The Child at the Door

In a small village by the river, a young woman named Anya was known for her kindness. At eighteen, she was the oldest unmarried girl and watched over many of the local children. One boy, barely seven, spent most of his days with her. His own home was filled with loud voices and anger, a place where unhappiness was a heavy secret everyone pretended not to see.

One evening, a soft knocking came at Anya’s door. She opened it to find the small boy, trembling in the cool night air. She quickly brought him inside and wrapped him in a warm blanket. He told her the shouting at his house had gone on for hours, and then it had stopped. When he looked, he found the house empty and quiet.

The homes were simple structures of woven grass and wood, and sounds traveled easily through the village. Everyone had heard the noise, but no one had acted. The next day, the sun rose, but the boy’s parents did not come.