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@ ODILI ONUOHA
2025-06-16 10:08:09The night the storm swallowed their village, fear ran like fire in every heart.
Children clung to their mothers. Old men stared at the cracking trees outside. Even the bravest men stayed indoors, muttering prayers and counting lightning.
But in a small hut near the edge of the forest, a boy named Ezekiel lit a single candle.
His sister, Clara , not older than ten, asked in a whisper, “Why are you lighting that? The storm will blow it out.”
Ezekiel smiled softly. “Because if I don’t, the darkness wins.”
Clara trembled. “But the storm is so loud. What if the roof falls? What if the forest floods?”
Ezekiel knelt beside her and held her hand. “Then we listen, and we run. But until then, we keep the light on. Someone might be looking for it.”
Just as he spoke, a frantic knock came at the door. A woman drenched and shivering had seen their tiny flame through the chaos. She wasn’t from the village, but had lost her way when her cart overturned on the muddy road.
They wrapped her in a blanket. Made space by the fire. Shared what little food they had.
Later that night, Clara looked at the still-burning candle and whispered, “You were right.”
Ezekiel looked at her. “About what?”
She smiled. “Light doesn’t stop the storm. But it helps people find each other.”
Moral: In the face of overwhelming fear, even the smallest courage can become a beacon.