She stands in the hallway the way small birds stand in storms,
too fragile for the wind,
too brave to fly away.
***
Her pajamas still smell like sleep,
yet the night has already carved her awake.
She clutches the stuffed toy that knows all her secrets,
the one thing that never raises its voice.
***
On the wall, the adults she loves become giants made of noise.
Their shadows twist into shapes she doesn’t have names for yet,
but her heart recognizes every one of them.
Fear.
Anger.
The kind of pain that echoes even when the house goes silent.
***
She doesn’t cry.
Children like her learn quickly that tears make no difference
in a place where promises break louder than bones.
***
Still, she watches.
Because if she turns away,
no one will remember to be gentle.
***
And in that narrow strip of hallway light,
a child becomes something she should never have to be:
the keeper of peace
in a war she didn’t start.
***
One day she will grow,
carrying this doorway inside her like a bruise that never quite fades,
learning to unteach herself the lie
that love is something shaped like fear.
***
But tonight,
she is only a little girl
standing in the dark
begging the world,
without words,
to please
be softer.
***
Thank you for staying and loving my work
Other Best Pieces to Consider
Criminal story
About the Creator
Aarsh Malik
Poet and storyteller who believes in the quiet power of words.
My first book, QUIET FLAME
Buy Coffee
⏳ 90 days. $2,000
If my words stay with you, a little tip can help me get there.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.