A Noise at the Door! UFLI Foundations Lesson 115

Pa told the best bedtime stories in the world. Better than books. Better than shows. Better than all of them put together. Every night, it was the same routine. Pa sat on my bed with his big red mug of hot drink. Every night I said, 'Tell me a story, Pa.' And every night, Pa did.

Tonight, Pa leaned in so close I could smell the hot drink on his breath. 'Tonight,' he whispered, 'I will tell you about a girl made of air.' 'A girl made of air?' I said. 'That is not real. That is a tall tale.' Pa smiled. That smile was always the cue that something big was coming. 'You tell me at the end,' he said.

The girl made of air had no face you could see. No name you could shout. She could sit right next to you in a big red chair and you would never know she was there. The only clue? A tiny dip in the seat. But who checks a seat? Nobody. That is who. She was there. She was just... air.

When it rained, you could almost spot the girl made of air. The drops curved and bounced around a shape that was not quite there, like water sliding off something you could not see. She just stood still on the wet path, hoping a few people would stop. But people walked right past. They were too busy with their umbrellas to see a girl made of nothing but air.

Snow was better. Snowflakes landed on her head and body and stayed, so she looked like a girl made of snow. A few children stopped. They pointed. They whispered, 'Do you see that?' The girl made of air held very, very still. She did not want them to look away.

One morning, the girl made of air did something brave. She walked right into a classroom, sat down at a desk, and picked up a green crayon. A boy just a few seats away screamed so loud the teacher dropped her mug. Because from where the boy sat, a green crayon was drawing a wobbly shape all by itself. No hand. No arm. Nothing.

'Please do not be scared,' said a voice from the empty chair. 'I just wanted to draw.' The boy stared. Then he whispered, 'Can I paint your face? So I can see you?' The girl made of air held perfectly still. The boy dipped his brush in bright yellow paint and, very carefully, gave her two eyes and a smile.

'More!' said the girl made of air. 'Paint my hair full of things I love!' So the boy painted a heart. A star. A fat cat that seemed to mew. Music notes that almost seemed to hum. And a bunch of cherries on top, just because. 'How do I look?' she asked. The boy grinned. 'Like a song.'

After that, the girl made of air painted herself every single morning. Hearts on her arms. Stars on her fingers. Bright footprints all along the path she walked, so the world could follow her trail. She continued to paint, day after day. She was not hiding now. She was letting the world know she was there.

She stood on a hill, bright with every hue and every thing she valued. Then something grand happened. People could finally see her. Not because of the paint. She had fueled herself with all the things she loved, and now no one could miss her.

Pa went quiet. He sipped the last of his hot drink and looked at me. 'So?' he said. 'Tall tale? Or true?' I pulled the blanket up to my nose. A girl made of real air? That can not be. That is just silly. 'Made up,' I said. 'All made up.' Pa smiled and kissed my head. 'I love you.'

Pa turned off the lamp. He walked out. He closed the door. And then, very slowly, the door creaked back open. Light spilled in from the hall. But nobody came. No one was there to rescue me. I pulled the blanket right up to my chin. Don't open that door. Don't open that door. DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR.