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@ ODILI ONUOHA
2025-06-16 09:52:46In a village nestled between cliffs and sea, lived a girl named Rita who had never spoken a word. She wasn’t mute but ever since her mother passed during a storm, her voice had locked itself deep within.
The villagers called her “the silent one.” Some pitied her. Others ignored her.
But every morning, Rita climbed the cliffs, sat with the rising sun, and played a handmade flute. Her melodies echoed through the valley, haunting, beautiful, alive.
One day, a merchant visited the village. He brought riches, spices, and tales but no joy. His heart was heavy with the loss of his son, and he walked through life with a scowl and silence of his own.
That morning, as he walked near the cliffs, he heard Rita’s song. He froze.
Something about the tune loosened the knot in his chest. It reminded him of lullabies he’d forgotten… of hope he thought had died.
Each day, he returned to hear her play. And though Rita said nothing, her music became his healing.
Soon, others began gathering. A boy with no father. An old widow. A girl who stuttered. They listened. They wept. They smiled.
Rita never spoke.
She didn’t need to.
Her silence became a voice louder than any words one that taught the village: “You don’t have to shout to be heard. Sometimes, healing sings quietly.”
Moral: Quiet doesn’t mean weak. There’s power in peace, and strength in stillness.