Afraid of the Dark

Whyia loved her room in the daytime. She loved her books, her teddy bear and the little chair beside her bed.

But at bedtime, everything looked different. The corners grew dark. The chair grew a long, strange shadow. Whyia pulled her blanket up to her chin.

“Mama?” she called. “Please don’t turn off the light.” Mama sat down beside her. “What worries you, sweetheart?”

“There’s something by the chair,” Whyia whispered. “And I heard a scratching sound.” Her tummy felt tight. She held Teddy close.

“That sounds scary,” said Mama. “I’m right here. Let’s look together.” She gave Whyia a little flashlight.

Whyia pointed the light at the chair. It was her blue cardigan! Its sleeves made a shadow like two long arms.

Mama lifted the cardigan, and the shadow changed. Whyia moved the flashlight, and the shadow stretched. “It moves with the light!” she said.

Then the sound came again. Scratch, scratch. Whyia squeezed Mama’s hand. “Can we check that too?”

They looked out of the window. A thin branch was brushing the glass in the wind. Scratch, scratch. “Oh,” said Whyia. “It’s just the tree.”

“The cardigan is still a cardigan,” said Mama. “And your room is still your room. In the dark, things are harder to see. But they don’t change.”

Whyia looked out at the dark garden. “Does everyone sleep when it gets dark?” Just then, a little owl landed on the branch. “Not everyone!” he hooted. “My name is Hoo.”

“I need help tonight,” said Hoo. “A baby hedgehog is lost in the garden. Owls see well in the dark, but two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

Whyia looked at Mama. “Can I help?” Mama smiled. “I’ll be right here when you come back.” Whyia closed her eyes and said the magic words: “Look at me, here I stand! Not a girl, but an owl instead!”

Golden sparks swirled around her. Her arms became soft wings. Her toes became tiny claws. With a flutter and a whoosh, Whyia was a little owl!

At first, the garden looked like one big shadow. Whyia stayed close to Hoo. “Look again,” said Hoo. “Slowly.” Then she saw it: the silver path, the fence, the round leaves.

“Owl eyes need only a little light,” said Hoo. “And owl ears hear the smallest sounds. Listen.” A cricket chirped. A moth fluttered by. The garden was busy in a quiet, nighttime way.

Then Whyia heard something else. A tiny squeak came from under the bushes. “Where is everybody?” “That’s him!” said Whyia.

Under the leaves sat the baby hedgehog, curled into a prickly ball. “It’s so dark,” he cried. “I can’t find my mama.”

“I was scared of the dark too,” said Whyia softly. “Let’s look again and listen together.”

They listened. Far away, near the old apple tree, something went sniff, sniff, huff, huff. “That sounds like a hedgehog looking for someone!” said Whyia.

Whyia flew low and slow. The baby hedgehog trotted after her along the silver path. Hoo watched over them from above.

Under the apple tree, Mama Hedgehog was searching everywhere. “There you are!” she huffed, and they touched noses. “Thank you, little owl!”

Just then, a cloud slid over the moon. The garden went very dark. Whyia’s tummy tightened again. “I don’t like this part,” she said.

Hoo landed beside her on a sturdy branch. “Owls know a trick,” he said. “Breathe in slowly... and let it out with a long hoooo.” Whyia breathed in. “Hoooo.” Her wings stopped shaking, and soon the moon came back.

“I want to go home now,” said Whyia. “Then home we’ll go,” said Hoo. He gave her a soft silver feather from his wing. “When the night feels big, hold this and breathe like an owl.”

They flew along the fence to the warm glow of her window. Mama was waiting there. Whyia landed on the windowsill and said: “Look at me, here I stand! Not an owl, but a girl instead!”

Golden sparks danced around her. Her wings became arms. Her claws became toes. Soon she was back in her pajamas, with Teddy and the silver feather in her lap. Mama hugged her tight.

“How was your adventure?” asked Mama. “I helped a baby hedgehog find his mama,” said Whyia. “But I got scared again.” Mama kissed her curls. “You can feel scared and still be brave. And you can always ask for what you need.”

“Can we leave a little light on?” asked Whyia. “Of course,” said Mama, and she turned on the nightlight by the door. “And the door a little open?” “If you need me, just call. You don’t have to handle every worry by yourself.”

Whyia folded her cardigan and put it away. The chair was a chair. The books were books. The scratching was the tree. “Good night, tree,” she whispered. A gentle hoot came from the garden. “Good night, Hoo.”

One corner still looked very dark. Whyia looked again, slowly. It was only her toy box. She held the silver feather and breathed like an owl. “Hoooo.” Her shoulders softened against her pillow.

From that night on, Whyia knew three night tricks: look again, listen, and breathe like an owl. And when the dark still felt too big, she could always call Mama. The dark doesn’t change your room. It only hides the colors until morning.