The little girl clung tightly to her mother’s arm.

“It’s going to be alright,” her mother cooed, but the way her eyes flicked about betrayed her own anxiety.

In her other hand, the girl’s mother held two green tickets. She clutched it the way one would when they had struck the lottery.

As the pair walked across the white marble floor of the station, a large black screen caught the girl’s eye.

“Attention: The train to 1994 will be leaving in three minutes.”

The green letters displayed on the screen flashed.

“Due to the dangers of the Spanish flu pandemic, passengers are advised not to travel to the years 1918 to 1920.”

“Where are we going?” The girl asked.

“We’re going to save Daddy.” her mother said calmly, trying to hide the panic that festered in her heart. She knew the risks of taking the Light Train.

The clock struck twelve as the head of a pale-coloured train appeared, as if cut off from the rest of the vehicle. As it moved forward, more carriages materialised, until all were in full view. Its doors slid open with the grace of a serpent, and the passengers on the platform streamed in. The girl sat next to her mother, looking out of the small window. An ancient tree stood outside. The train let out a loud cry. The tree began to morph rapidly, its trunk peeling back one layer at a time, its leaves changing colours and its outer branches vanishing. The train let out another cry, and beside the train stood the same tree, but it now seemed smaller and younger. The girl’s eyes widened. Her mother clasped her hand and led her out of the train.

“Stay here, Mommy will be back soon.” Her mother said hurriedly.

“But-”

Before the girl could protest, her mother was already gone. The little girl watched helplessly as the sand trickled down the hourglass. Hours passed, and people began to stream onto the train. The little girl’s mind filled with worry.

“The train to 1998 will be leaving in 2 minutes.”

The little girl got onto the train hesitantly.

“The train to 1998 will be leaving in 1 minute”

“Mommy…” The little girl wailed.

The train doors began to close. Abruptly, the girl's mother came running towards the train.

“Hurry! The train is going to leave!” The girl yelled. She ran forward and tried to hold the doors open, but she wasn’t strong enough.

Her mother stared at her with a resigned smile, tears welling in her hazel eyes. This was clearly not a dream.

“I’m sorry, Isabella. I will always love you.”

The doors slammed shut, drowning out the girl’s anguished screams.

Impossible.

But if it was impossible, then why had she seemed so real? Even if she was real, it was still so hard to believe…

It all started when my brother, Gabe, and I decided to go hiking. When we stopped to satiate our growling stomachs, we heard a tell-tale pitter-patter sound. Angry dark clouds were chasing each other, racing towards us.

I opened my umbrella, just in the nick of time. Quickening our paces, we splashed down the hill.

While we were running, I caught a glimpse of something pink. Skidding to a halt, I looked around suspiciously.

“What?” Gabe panted.

Then, I spotted a little girl in a pink dress, hugging a teddy bear.

I approached her warily, “Excuse me, aren’t you awfully young to be standing here, alone in the rain?” I asked.

She remained mum, but pointed in the direction of the exit.

“You’re lost? Do you need our help?” I inquired. She nodded. Strangely, I could not see her face clearly.

At the exit, the girl ducked out of our umbrella and ran to the nearby shelter. Then, she merely stood there, still as a statue.

Back home, after bathing and having dinner, Gabe and I were so exhausted, we fell onto our beds and sunk immediately into a deep sleep…

Tap

I woke up with a start. What was that?

Tap

There it was again. This was clearly NOT a dream.

Cautiously, I got out of bed and pulled the curtains open. My jaw dropped. There was a little girl levitating outside my window.

Tap

Her small finger was tapping on the window pane. She was holding a teddy bear and was soaking wet.

Her dress. It was pink.

My eyes widened and I attempted to scream but it got stuck in my throat. I tried to force it out, to no avail.

“Thank you.” With a small sad smile, she was gone.

I blacked out.

“Gabby! Gabby!” I jerked awake to come face to face with my brother.

“Gabe! I saw the little girl we helped yesterday! She...she was hovering outside my window last night!” I blurted out, my eyes darting towards the window frantically.

Gabe looked at me like I had three heads. “We live on the 10th floor,” he said matter-of-factly, “You must have been dreaming! Now, come out for breakfast!”

I blinked rapidly in confusion.

“33, 32, 31…” gazing at her countdown chart on the wall.

No one knew why. All Charlie knew was that she had an incurable disease. There was a knock on her bedroom door. She opened the door with the little strength left inside her. She peered around the door landing and noticed an oddly large box with her name printed on it. Cautiously, she dragged the box into her room, took a deep breath and opened it.

Her eyes widened. There were several tiny pork buns, yet unordinary buns. They hopped and emitted soft and shrill squeaks. Charlie felt a smile etched across her face. She remembered them from her childhood imagination - the Pygmy Buns.

Then, before her eyes, Rabbit, Brown Bear and Jaguar appeared. The three animals seemed to be having a tea party and a friendly argument at the same time.

“I’m telling you, a red hat would look nicer,” said the Rabbit.

“No, no, a yellow hat would look far fancier,” retorted the Brown Bear indignantly.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, let’s all agree that a blue hat would be politically most appropriate,” said the Jaguar calmly.

Charlie chuckled, recalling the pretend “tea party” with her three soft toys who kept her company as she had no siblings. Charlie closed and hid the box deep inside her wardrobe so no one would find it.

The moment Charlie woke up in the morning, she opened the mysterious box excitedly. She was pleasantly surprised, the objects changed again. She found her Grandma and herself in there, underneath the Eiffel tower! She remembered as a child planning with her Grandma on their trip to Paris…and they were about to go. Days before their departure, Grandma had a stroke and passed away.

“Charlie,” called her mom, “come down for breakfast!” Charlie dried her tears, closed the lid of the box and went downstairs reluctantly.

“10, 9, 8…” came the next moment Charlie got the chance to open her box. She found a large six-story house, the rooms big and fanciful, and filled with red and gold everywhere. Even though the house was miniature like a 3D model, Charlie felt as though she was inside the mansion. She was transported back to her fantasy dream house, which she spent hours and hours, drawing again and again.

Then she heard it, in that shimmering sunroom of the mansion. A voice said, although she was going to leave this world, she was not alone. She felt a familiar sense of comfort, more carefree than ever, like a little butterfly fluttering in a sea of flowers…the wind beneath her wings, a feeling she never experienced before.

Charlie set off somewhere far away. Somewhere safe.