The Night Light - Free Stories for Kids

The Night Light

Hazel was seven, and she was afraid of the dark hallway between her bedroom and the bathroom.

In the daytime it was just a hallway, with a worn blue rug and a row of school photos on the wall. But at night it stretched long and black, and the shadows looked like they were waiting for her.

She had been staying at her grandmother's house for two weeks, ever since Mama went into the hospital for her surgery. Everything here smelled like lavender and old books. The house made noises Hazel didn't know yet: a creak in the ceiling, a hum from the refrigerator, a tick-tick-tick from somewhere in the walls.

On the fourteenth night, Hazel woke up thirsty. The clock said 2:13. She sat up, and her throat was dry, but her stomach was tight with fear.

She thought about waking Grandma. But Grandma had been tired lately, with long phone calls and whispered prayers at the kitchen table. Hazel didn't want to add one more thing.

So she sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the blanket, and stared at the doorway. The hallway beyond it was a black mouth.

"Heavenly Father," she whispered, remembering the prayer Grandma had taught her. "You know what makes me afraid."

She waited. Nothing flashed or boomed. But the knot in her chest loosened, just a little.

Hazel put one foot on the cold floor, then the other. At the doorway she stopped. "You promised to be with me," she whispered. "So please come."

She took one step into the hall, then another. Something tall stood near the stairs, and her breath caught. She froze, and her heart thudded in her ears. Then she remembered. It was the coat rack. It had been the coat rack yesterday, and the day before.

Further on, a lumpy shape crouched under the window. Hazel squeezed her eyes shut. You promised, she thought. When she opened them, the shape was still there, but now she could see the corner of a striped sleeve hanging over the edge. Her laundry basket.

A tiny laugh escaped her, and it sounded loud in the quiet. Halfway down the hall she realized something strange. She wasn't shaking anymore. The fear hadn't vanished, but it had gotten smaller, like a bully who turns out to be shorter than you thought.

In the kitchen, she filled her glass at the sink and drank slowly. The moon was bright in the window. She thought of Mama in her hospital bed, maybe awake too, maybe afraid too.

"Please be with Mama," Hazel whispered. "She needs You tonight more than I do."

The tick-tick-tick came again from the wall, and this time it sounded almost friendly, like a clock keeping watch.

When she turned to go back, she found Grandma standing in the kitchen doorway in her robe, her gray hair loose.

"I heard you praying," Grandma said softly.

Hazel's cheeks went warm. "I was scared of the hallway."

"Did you walk through it anyway?"

"Twice." Hazel held up two fingers. "Well, once, and now I have to do it again."

Grandma crouched down so their eyes were level. "Hazel, bravery isn't about not being afraid. It's about knowing you're not walking alone." She tucked a strand of hair behind Hazel's ear. "God doesn't promise there won't be dark hallways. He promises to walk through them with us."

"Even Mama's hallway? The one at the hospital?"

Grandma's eyes shone in the moonlight. "Especially that one."

Together they walked back down the hall, Grandma's hand warm around Hazel's. The coat rack was a coat rack. The laundry basket was a laundry basket. It was every bit as dark as before.

At her bedroom door, Hazel turned. "Grandma, can we leave a little light on tomorrow night?"

"We can do that."

"But I think I might not need it."

Grandma smiled. "Then it will just be there to keep you company."

Hazel climbed under her blanket and whispered one more time, "Thank You."

And somewhere between the tick of the wall and the hum of the refrigerator, she fell asleep.

The next morning, the phone rang. Mama's surgery had gone well, and she was awake and asking for her girl.

Over breakfast, Grandma asked how she'd slept.

Hazel thought about it, swinging her feet under the table. "Good," she said. "I was scared, but then I wasn't."