Light

By Aabha Ghuli

“You need to vacate this house within the next three days.” That was the last thing Mia heard before she left for school. A man had shown up unannounced, brandishing a letter that claimed their home wasn’t rightfully theirs. Her parents had been frantically searching for the original documents, which her grandmother had tucked away somewhere safe, but now they were nowhere to be found.

Mia trudged into school with the fear of losing the only roof over her head. As she sat in class, she absentmindedly opened her science textbook but couldn’t focus on the words. Lost in a maze of her own questions, the whiteboard blurred before her eyes. Then, a sharp question from her teacher snapped her back to reality.

“So, who knows why the moon sometimes appears red?” The teacher scanned the room, but Mia was only half-listening. She hastily began copying a diagram of the moon that appeared on the board. Huh?’ She stared at the moon in her book; a blue, twinkling light sparked around it. Suddenly, she felt her head spin, her vision went blurry, and her fingers grew numb. A loud knock at the classroom door startled her, and she nearly jumped a foot high before scrambling back into her seat. She leaped in her seat, looking around frantically, and noticed the classroom was empty. Before she could move, the door swung on its hinges and opened with a creak.

There stood an old woman, Wrinkles etched across her face; she approached Mia with a purpose. “Take,” she said, handing a torn note held together with tape into Mia's hands. Mia gaped blankly at the woman’s face, a wave of recognition washing over her—it was her grandmother!

“MIA! How many times have I told you to pay attention in class?” Her teacher’s voice echoed, snapping her back to the present, her heart racing. “I… umm… sorry, ma'am, I… I will finish my diagram,” Mia muttered, confusion swirling in her mind about the vivid dream she just had.

RING!  The school bell rang, breaking her chain of thoughts. She grabbed her bag and sat near a window on the bus. The chilly wind seeped through her layers, sending shivers down her spine. ‘Brrrr,’ her teeth chattered as she pulled her jacket’s hood tighter around her head and slipped her hands into her pockets. As warmth seeped into her fingers, she brushed against something crinkly in her pocket.

She pulled it out and noticed it was the same torn piece of paper, held together with tape. Confused, she peered at it, only to find it completely blank. Just as empty as her worries about home. She stuffed it back into her pocket, as it was her turn to get off the bus.

When she got off, she scanned for her mother, who was absent from her usual spot.

Upon returning home, Mia quietly walked to her room and flung her jacket, her thoughts still racing. The piece of paper rolled off the floor, she picked it up, and placed it on her study table, quickly forgetting about it. After finishing her dinner, she hoped to put an end to her restless night. However, she couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. That night, sleep eluded her, worry gnawing at the edges of her mind.

Bright sunlight streamed through her window the next morning, prompting her to rise. “Ugh! What else can go wrong?” she grumbled, trying to shake off the heaviness in her chest. As she fumbled around her desk for her hairband, the sun glinted directly on the torn paper, illuminating some words on the torn paper.

Her eyes widened when she saw the writing. She squeezed the paper and walked toward her bed. Slowly, the writing began to vanish. Startled, she threw it back onto the desk. As sunlight shone on it again, the writing was visible once more. Her heart raced as she read the words that began to fade in and out of existence:

Search for those tiles.

Under which Santa piles

All his gifts, treats, and goodies

Below an incredibly special tree

‘Special tree? Santa’s gifts?’ The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. “Oh, I know! A Christmas tree!!” She jumped in excitement and dashed to the living room  where the Christmas tree was set . ‘Under a few tiles… that means the tiles must be hollow!’ Mia thought, tapping on the tiles, but none sounded hollow. ‘But it’s under the Christmas tree...’ Suddenly, a thought struck her mind.

“Mom!” Mia yelled, running to find her mother. Her mother was sitting at the table, her head buried in her hands. “Mom! Do you know where Grandma kept the Christmas tree?” she asked breathlessly, her heart pounding in hope.

“Yes… in that dusty corner. We moved it after it became too difficult to clean around," her mother replied, her voice heavy with nostalgia.

Mia rushed to the indicated spot and tapped on the tiles beneath the tree where it was usually kept . “Yes! Mommy, can you please remove these four tiles? We’ll find some help to save the house!” Mia pleaded. “Darling, I...” her mother began, but Mia interrupted, “Mooooom! Please! Can you at least try?” Her mother hesitated, appearing weary, but finally relented, driven by Mia's infectious determination. Together, they removed the tiles, anticipation crackling in the air.

“There,” her mother said. Mia leaned closer, her heart pounding, but to her dismay, there was no clue; instead, only a thick cloud of dust greeted her.  

“Wait!” she exclaimed, brushing aside the dirt. Her fingers grazed over another scrap of paper, and she squealed in delight. “Look, Mommy!”

Her mother leaned in, astonishment painted across her face as Mia held up the paper, a glimmer of hope igniting within them. This could lead them to the answers they desperately needed to save their home. "We might just find Grandma's secret after all!"

By Aabha Ghuli