Flames from a soldier’s torch rolled across the porch and lapped at the pineboard siding.
Another house nearby was already swallowed in a blaze of heat and light.
April 26, 1777. The British were coming.
Leaping astride the family horse, one brave patriot galloped into the night.
There was no moon that night, torrents spilled from the sky and the roads turned to rivers.
Soaking in the saddle, flying from farm to farm, pounding from door to door and shouting in the streets, one rider raised the alarm.
“The British are coming!”
Before morning sunbeams began to stab at the sky, Sybil Ludington had loped over 40 miles and roused over 400 militiamen.
She was 16 years old.
Later, the two armies tangled at the Battle of Ridgefield.
The Redcoats retreated and we rankled them all the way to the sea.
Cool, right?
“But why hasn’t Sybil’s story been more regaled?” you ask?
Great question. Also, you sound very sophisticated, using a word like “regaled.”
One historian’s theory suggests Sybil’s story isn’t especially Revered because maybe it never happened.
That’s right. Maybe 16 year-old Sybil never rode all night in a rainstorm.
Huh. Do you suddenly feel a bit sad? I did too…
Why do we really want this heroic tale to be true?
This is a little embarrassing and you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but…
I’ve decided to believe Sybil really did save the day by riding that night.
I know, I know. I can’t prove it. I can’t prove that she did. But I still believe.
You see, when I think about what she did, I stand a bit straighter.
My problems seem lighter and the day gets brighter.
If she did something that courageous, maybe you and I can too.
That’s what a story can do.
Do you know any other stories that are too good not to be true?