Clara e o Escuro

Clara and Grandma Lúcia were in the living room on that hot summer night. Standing on her tiptoes, little Clara looked out the wide-open window and envied the houses across the street, which were brightly lit, as if mocking her for being stuck in a place without electricity. Frustrated, she huffed and turned to her grandmother, who was sitting in her corner of the three-seater sofa, sewing a small colorful patchwork quilt. Every now and then, she rummaged through her sewing bag, which rested between her left thigh and a purple pillow right next to her. "Grandma, why do those houses have power and ours doesn't?" She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Clara, dear..." Grandma Lúcia threaded the needle and looked at her granddaughter over her round glasses with a cord. "The power grid is divided into sectors, and this time, we lucked out by having ours with the problem." She smiled in the dim light of the small candle on the side table. "Some days it's over there." "That's not fair." Clara walked over to the sofa and sat next to her grandma’s purple pillow. "I know, Clara, but that's how life is." Grandma Lúcia placed her hand on the little girl’s shoulder. "This kind of thing teaches us to be patient, my love." She stroked her granddaughter's back and smiled. "But the power will come back eventually, don’t worry." "But there’s nothing to do..." Clara stared at her grandmother, her eyes shining despite the low light. "There’s no internet, no TV, and even my phone’s battery is dead." She pulled the dead phone from her pocket and showed it to her grandma. "I hate the dark!" She threw it onto a yellow pillow on the other end of the sofa. "My love..." Grandma Lúcia lowered her round glasses to see her better. "The dark is also part of life, and I assure you, it’s not all bad..." She placed the small colorful patchwork quilt on the purple pillow. "What could be good about the dark, Grandma?" Clara threw her arms open and stared at her. "You’d be surprised..." Grandma Lúcia picked up the quilt and resumed her sewing. After a few moments of suspense, she added, "But I think you’re not really that interested..." "Of course I am!" Clara grabbed her grandma's right arm with her little hands. "Anything is better than having nothing to do. Come on, Grandma, tell me!"

Clara tiptoed into the living room, where her little brother sat, scared. " - Don't worry, I'll find the light," she reassured him. But as she moved, the candle flickered, threatening to go out. " - Oh no! Please stay lit," Clara pleaded, her heart racing. Without light, the path to the flashlight seemed impossible.

She stumbled into the kitchen, but the door was stuck. " - Why won't it open?" Clara grumbled, pushing harder. The air was heavy, and sweat trickled down her forehead. " - Maybe I should try another way," she thought aloud. The kitchen was the shortcut, but she had to find a longer route now.

Exhausted, Clara slumped to the floor. " - Maybe I should just give up," she whispered, tears in her eyes. The weight of the darkness felt overwhelming, too big for an eight-year-old. " - No! I can't stop now," she suddenly exclaimed, shaking off her despair. Deep down, she knew the light was more than just a flashlight—it was hope.

A soft voice broke the silence. " - Remember what Grandpa said, Clara," her mind echoed. Her grandfather's wisdom about facing fears resonated within her. " - I need to think like him," Clara decided, standing up with renewed determination. She recalled his stories of perseverance and found strength. " - I know where to look now!" she exclaimed, feeling a spark of hope.

Clara finally reached her grandfather's study, where the flashlight lay waiting. " - I did it!" she shouted triumphantly, holding it high. She flicked it on, and the room flooded with light, chasing away the shadows. " - We have light again!" Clara said to her brother, who cheered with joy. She realized the journey had given her more than just light; it had filled her with wisdom and courage.