I’m here


I’m here.

I don’t know what I’ll do after that, or what to say …

But at least I am declaring my presence, I haven’t left.


It’s dark in here, did someone turn off the lights?

Mommy, I’m afraid…

Mommy? Are you there? Is anybody here? Hello?

Nobody. I’m all alone here in this dark room.

I shouldn’t talk loud, the monsters might hear me.


I didn’t even bring my imaginary friend with me. It’s just me with myself. But still, it’s lonely even with such company.

Seconds seems like hours… Will anybody come for me?

Does anybody know I am trapped here?

I’m thirsty… Maybe I can drink my tears.

I look around the room … At least I think it’s a room. I cannot see even a hint of light.

Huddled in the corner, I could run, but my arms and legs are paralyzed with fear. Not only of the darkness, but also of what could be lurking in it …

I am too young to die mommy. I want to roll on grassy hills, giggling uncontrollably. The sun would shine on my face, and the light breeze would play softly with my hair. I want to chase beautiful butterflies while skipping rope.

… What is that sound?! Footsteps?

I think I just peed all over myself. It doesn’t matter anymore.

In the complete black of darkness, I catch a small flutter of movement with the corner of my eye. I let out a scream of horror, and cover my head with my hands, but as time ticks on I realize I didn’t have to. My ears strain and when the creature passes in front of me, I understand what that sound was.

A little white moth.

I vaguely recognize its presence as my brain is slowly going numb… This is it. Ten whole years of my life, lived. I hope my puppy will be ok without me.

The moth flutters in front of my eyes once more. My mind registers it the second time. A moth… What is it doing here? Could there be a way out?

A small ray of hope flutters in my heart, like the fluttering of wings…

I stop crying.

Maybe the white moth can lead me out of this darkness…


P.S. There you go, I found something to say. A little short story of a young girl in darkness. Whether the darkness is literal or metaphorical, it’s up to you to decide.