A Little Girl’s Dream


There was a little girl locked by a spell in a dark room that is to small to contain a soul, in the heart of a high tower that light cannot seek through. There was only a tiny window pane that allows two or three poles of light to enter every morning. The little girl always slept on hey spread over the ground like a mattress exactly where sunlight rests. The walls of the room where grey pages of a coloring book with white scribbles on them. The rusty old nail that the little girl found in one of the room’s corners was the pen she used to write on the walls. The walls were full of drawings and writings left by all the little girls lived in this room for thousands of years. There were images of birds, cats, ducks and flowers, there were writings about dreams and wishes to see their mothers and fathers and buy new toys. There verses from Quran, old and new poems, songs, and letters to those who will inhabit the room after them.

What the little girl loved the most was when the sun embraces her face in the morning as she is still sleeping, then she opens her eyes and immediately the glare takes them to a beautiful place, a white page and crayons, her father and mother holding her hands before the house and giggling. She had two braids, each on one side, her cheeks are rosy. The house has a triangular roof, and there is a round window that looks like Haidi’s window oversees an unending meadows, garnished with lilies here and red roses there. The cat is half size the house and has 6 legs, it can speak too. There are clouds laughing and playing together. There are stars hanging by threads from the sky. There are red birds playing with it and with the cat. The sun is singing.

As the little girl was scratching on the wall with her nail, suddenly her daydream – that is more real to her heart than reality – interrupted by a key rumbling inside the lock of an iron door. The freak Abu Awafi is covered with mud and algae, rotten things like plastic bags are stuck on him. Parts of his skin are peeling and falling. His eyes are black like his heart. They are dripping tar and arsenic.

The little girl wasn’t afraid, she continues the letter that she wanted to send. she gives her eyes to the glare so it would take them far away. Forever.

She wrote on the wall: The light was always living inside of me, I saw it only when I became in the dark.

About Hummingbird

Feels strange when I talk about myself. It is just me.
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