The Girl Who Talks to the Star's - By Anugraha Visakh

Written By: ANUGRAHA VISAKH

Category: SHORT STORY

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Anugraha Visakh, with her short story "The Girl Who Talks to the Star's," invites readers into a world of introspection and healing. This narrative, submitted under the Short Story category for the esteemed Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, is a touching exploration of family dynamics, love, and memory. Set in the quiet town of West Field, the story follows Tara, a young girl whose conversations with the stars reveal her journey through grief and acceptance.

About the Work

"The Girl Who Talks to the Star's" is a beautifully crafted narrative that delves into themes of loss and the enduring nature of love. With a gentle and introspective style, Anugraha Visakh captures the emotions of a young girl grappling with change and the absence of her mother. The story's imagery evokes a sense of nostalgia and warmth, as Tara's nightly vigil under the stars becomes a poignant metaphor for her growth and healing.

THE GIRL WHO TALKS TO THE STAR'S

Original Submission by ANUGRAHA VISAKH

THE GIRL WHO TALKS TO THE STAR’S

In a quiet little town called West Field, there lived a girl named Tara with her father and grandmother in a beautiful old house at the end of a cobblestone street. The house had tall windows, creaking wooden floors, and a garden that bloomed every spring.

Tara was a thoughtful girl who found comfort in rainy afternoons, old books, and the endless night sky. She was the kind of person who noticed the little things others overlooked — the fading colors of a sunset, the sound of rain against her window, and the sadness hidden behind someone's smile.

Although she lived with her father and grandmother, there was one person whose absence had left an emptiness in her heart: her mother, who had passed away when Tara was very young. Her memories of her mother were faint, like photographs slowly fading with time, but she held on to every little thing she could remember.

Every evening, when the world grew quiet and the sky darkened, Tara made her way to the balcony. She would sit beside the railing, pull her knees close to her chest, and gaze at the stars scattered across the heavens.

But to Tara, they were more than distant specks of light. She liked to imagine that her mother was somewhere among them, watching over her from a place far beyond her reach.

Sometimes, she would pick the brightest star in the sky and pretend it was her mother's way of saying hello.

"Guess what happened today, Mum?" she whispered one evening, a faint smile appearing on her face. "You're not going to believe this."

She would tell her mother about everything — the little victories that made her proud, the embarrassing moments that made her laugh, and the worries she couldn't bring herself to share with anyone else.

Occasionally, she would pause and stare at the sky, half-expecting a sign that her mother had heard her.

Of course, the stars never answered. But Clara liked to believe that somewhere beyond the vast, endless sky, her mother was listening.

And somehow, that belief made the world feel a little less lonely.

But one evening, everything changed.

Clara returned home after a tiring day, expecting the familiar warmth of her little family. Instead, she found a strange woman sitting in the living room beside her father.

"Clara, come here," her father called.

She approached them cautiously.

"This is Clara," he said. "She's going to be a part of our lives from now on."

Anaya stared at the woman, confused. Before she could ask what he meant, her father explained that he intended to marry Clara.

Tara felt as though the ground beneath her had shifted. Her mother had been gone for years, but the thought of another woman taking her place felt unbearable.

"Why do we need someone else?" she asked quietly.

Her father sighed impatiently. "Tara, you're old enough to understand that life goes on."

"But she's not Mum!" Tara cried.

"That's enough!" he snapped.

His sudden anger left Tara speechless. She had never expected her father to speak to her that way.

Things grew worse when an argument broke out between her father and grandmother. Voices rose, harsh words were exchanged, and before Tara could understand what was happening, her father ordered her grandmother to leave the house.

"Please, Dad! Don't do this!" Tara pleaded.

But he refused to listen.

Her grandmother gathered her belongings with trembling hands. Before leaving, she turned towards Tara and gently touched her cheek.

"Take care of yourself, sweetheart," she whispered.

Tara wanted to hold on to her, to beg her to stay, but she could barely find her voice.

The front door closed, leaving Tara standing alone in the hallway.

The house that had always felt safe suddenly seemed unfamiliar.

That evening, dinner remained untouched on the table. Tara had no appetite. She quietly made her way to the balcony, hoping the stars would offer her the comfort she desperately needed.

She looked up at the brightest star, the one she had always imagined was her mother.

"Mum?" she whispered.

Her eyes filled with tears.

"You won't believe what happened today."

Her voice trembled as she began recounting the day's events. Her father had brought another woman into their home, and then he had sent her grandmother away.

"I don't understand, Mum. Why is everything changing? Why won't Dad listen to me? Granny is gone, and I don't even know if she'll come back."

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I know Clara might be a nice person, but I don't want someone to replace you. Nobody can replace you."

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater, but the tears kept coming.

"I miss you so much. Sometimes, I try to remember your voice, but it's getting harder. What if one day I forget what you sounded like?"

Her voice broke.

"Please tell me what to do, Mum. I wish you were here."

Tara buried her face in her hands and cried beneath the endless sky.

She failed to notice the figure standing behind her.

Her father had been searching for her when he found her curled up beside the railing, her face wet with tears and her eyes fixed on the night sky.

For a moment, he simply stood there, watching his little girl struggle with a pain he had failed to notice.

"Anaya?" he called softly.

She quickly wiped her cheeks and turned away.

"Go away, Dad. Please. I don't want to talk."

But this time, he didn't leave.

Instead, he sat beside her.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The night breeze drifted through the balcony, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers from the garden below.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he finally whispered.

Tara looked at him, startled.

"I know I've hurt you. I've been so caught up in my own life that I forgot you were hurting too. I thought I was making things better for myself, but I never stopped to think about how all of this would affect you."

He lowered his eyes.

"I can't change what happened today, Tara. But I can promise to try to be a better father. You shouldn't have to feel alone in your own home."

Tara stared at him, unsure whether to believe his words.

"Will things ever be the same again?" she asked.

Her father took a deep breath.

"Maybe not exactly the same. But they can still be good. And I'll do my best to make sure you never have to face everything alone."

For the first time that evening, Tara let herself cry in someone's arms.

Her father held her close, just as he had when she was little.

"I'm here, princess," he whispered. "And I'm going to do better."

That night, beneath a sky full of stars, something inside their little family began to heal.

Things didn't change overnight. There were difficult conversations, misunderstandings, and days when Tara struggled to trust the promises she had been given. But slowly, her father began to change. He listened more, spent more time with her, and learned that being a father meant more than simply providing a home.

His new wife, Clara, turned out to be nothing like the stranger Tara had imagined. She never tried to replace Tara 's mother or force her to call her anything she wasn't comfortable with. Instead, she gave Tara something she hadn't expected — kindness without conditions.

She helped her with her schoolwork, listened to her endless stories, and sometimes sat beside her on the balcony, looking up at the stars.

One evening, Clara noticed Tara gazing at the sky.

"Do you come here every night?" she asked gently.

Tara nodded.

"I talk to my mum."

Clara looked at the stars before turning back to her.

"Then I hope you always have wonderful things to tell her."

For the first time, Tara felt that Clara understood something important: loving someone new didn't mean forgetting someone she had lost.

Little by little, Tara began to smile again.

Her grandmother eventually returned, bringing with her the warmth that had once filled their home. Her father apologized to her, too, and promised to treat her with the respect she deserved. Slowly, forgiveness found its way into their family.

Laughter returned to the rooms, dinner conversations grew longer, and the house that had once felt so painfully empty began to feel like home again.

Tara even made new friends who taught her that the world outside her window had beautiful things waiting for her, too. Her days became filled with laughter, adventures, and memories she would one day share with the stars.

But there was one place she never forgot.

Her mother's grave.

Every year, on her mother's birthday, Tara visited with her father, Clara, and her grandmother. Together, they laid fresh flowers upon the grave, sharing stories and memories of the woman who had left an irreplaceable mark on their lives.

Tara would kneel beside the flowers and whisper, "Happy birthday, Mum. I hope you can see me."

She would tell her mother about her life, her friends, her little achievements, and the family that had slowly learned to heal.

Clara would gently squeeze Tara's hand, never asking her to forget the mother she had lost.

And Tara loved her for that.

As the years passed, Tara grew into a young woman whose heart held both memories and dreams. Her life was no longer defined by loneliness. She had a father who cherished her, a grandmother who stood beside her, a stepmother who cared for her, and friends who made ordinary days extraordinary.

Yet, every night, she returned to her balcony.

Sometimes, she spoke about her day. Sometimes, she complained about her homework or laughed about something silly her friends had done. And sometimes, she simply sat in silence, watching the stars shimmer in the darkness.

Her father would occasionally appear at the balcony door.

"Talking to your friends again, princess?"

Tara would grin.

"Obviously, Dad. They're excellent listeners."

He would laugh, kiss the top of her head, and leave her to her little universe.

Tara would then look up at the brightest star and smile.

"Today was a good day, Mum," she would whisper. "I wish you could have been here. But I think you'd be happy for me."

She no longer looked at the stars only when she was sad. She looked at them when she was happy, too, because she wanted to share every beautiful moment with the mother she had never stopped loving.

And somewhere between the girl who cried beneath the night sky and the young woman who learned to smile beneath it, Anaya discovered something important.

Happiness did not mean forgetting the people she had lost. It meant learning to carry their love into the life she still had.

Her mother was no longer there to hold her hand, but her memory lived in every flower Tara placed upon her grave, every story she told beneath the night sky, and every quiet moment when she looked up and felt, somehow, a little less alone.

Tara had once spoken to the stars because she missed her mother and wished she could hear her voice again.

Now, she spoke to them because she wanted to share how beautiful life had become.

The stars remained silent, as they always had. But Tara no longer needed them to answer.

She had learned that love could remain, even when someone was no longer beside you. It could live in memories, in the kindness of others, and in the little rituals that made an ordinary life feel extraordinary.

She was still her father's little princess.

She was still her mother's daughter.

And beneath the same stars she had spoken to for so many years, Tara was, at last, happy.

Written by:

ANUGRAHA VISAKH

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious event celebrating the art of storytelling and poetry. Participants from around the world share their unique voices and perspectives, contributing to a diverse tapestry of creative expression. The competition serves as a platform for aspiring writers to showcase their talent and connect with a global audience, fostering a community of literary enthusiasts.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Anugraha Visakh for sharing "The Girl Who Talks to the Star's" with us. This moving tale of love and resilience resonates deeply within the context of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. We look forward to witnessing more of Anugraha's literary journey and are grateful for her contribution to our understanding of family and healing through her evocative storytelling.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.