FEARLESS

Part 1

I was taught to never be afraid. But that is very hard to do when you're alone.

And I was alone.

Every night from eight o'clock to seven. According to the the glowy green numbers on my

Clock.

But tonight was especially lonely. And especially different. Because tonight was the first

night I asked Mommy to unplug my star-shaped night light. I was a big girl, after all. I told

Mommy to pack it away in a box to save for my little brother or sister.

Whenever they were born.

So it was dark, and I was alone.

Mommy had kissed my forehead and pulled the covers up. I snuggled under the blankets

and watched her close the door.

"Goodnight, my angel." She said as the door shut.

"Goodnight."

It was very dark.

A tiny golden line of light shown under the door. Like a glow worm, or glitter glue.

I looked around the room. There wasn't much to see in the dark. It was too cloudy for the moon to shine but I pulled open the curtains by my window anyway.

Maybe I was a little scared. But not enough to call for Mommy.

Not yet.

My only option was to retreat under the blankets. And pray.

We always said prayers as a family. Lots of times a day. But I had never prayed to be brave before.

I shut my eyes tight and waited to be brave.

Nothing happened.

I peeked out under the blankets.

And saw the strangest thing.

Or rather, didn't see.

The golden glow line under the door was gone.

Maybe Mommy had turned out the lamp and gone to bed. I thought she was baking breakfast cookies for the morning.

I mustered all my courage, which amounted to just more than a pinch, and swung my feet to my soft, carpeted floor.

Except it wasn't.

Instead my toes touched scritchy, scratchy grass. Cold and wet with night dew. I jumped into the air like a bunny rabbit, flumping back onto my bed. I called out in a whisper that grew into a shout.

"Mom, mom, mommy, mom, MOMMY!"

Nothing.

Just darkness.

Silent, oppressive darkness.

I remembered my emergency supply kit under my bed. And this was most certainly an emergency.

Reaching down I scrabbled blindly for my blue checkered backpack. My fingertips strumming the blades of grass.

I pulled the pack up by the straps and found my flashlight in a side pocket. I thumbed the switch and the beam cut a wide swath of light.

Not my room.

Not even close.

All I could see by the flashlight's beam were trees.

Rows upon rows of trees.

Like the forests I saw when we visited Grandma and Grandpa.

It was time to be scared. Daddy said it was okay to be a little scared. But never to panic.

I panicked.

I was lost in the middle of the woods.

Alone.

In the dark.

I breathed and blinked back tears of fear. I closed my eyes and prayed again.

Nothing happened.

Except I remembered. I remembered that I had been camping lot's of times.

This was like camping. I told myself.

Just like camping.

My Daddy liked to be prepared so I had a pair of sturdy boots under my bed too. With woolen socks inside. I found those and slipped them on. They didn't match my pajamas but that was okay. I knew how important it is to stay hydrated and energized so I ate some trail mix and drank some water from a bottle in my pack. All the while scanning the trees hoping they would turn back into my four walls with the line of light glowing under the door.