Small is Beautiful
I lay on the crumbled bed of my sister, just beside our garden, holding my ruby-red phone. Learning magic tricks in this lockdown and besides having a glimpse of my favourite grasshopper. This boring 24 hours of the day, having no work to do, made me think of many stupid questions and wishes including "why do birds fly?" and "why are we alive?". And wishes like wanting to be a bird and wishing to turn all the grasshoppers in the world into giant ones. Keeping all this wishes in mind, I went to the witch from whom I occasionally learned magic for the pandemic.
"Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo" the witch said the spell for changing the mouse into a rabbit. Today again, the witch taught me spells which was almost about 50.Days went by and I became a professional wizard. Now I didn't need the witch any longer and n ever even stepped out near the witch's house. I started making my true.
I threw the spell to the grasshoppers, saying "Wingardium leviosa". Just after that the good and beautiful-looking grasshoppers metamorphosed into terrible-looking giant and scary grasshoppers.
The situation seemed like my assumptions were terribly wrong. This was nothing from, what was going to happen next. The grasshoppers were hopping in a zig-zag line of porters just like the cars in the main road of Dhaka made them so huge that one step of theirs on me would be enough to smash me and sent me to god. Right after a minute of having these thoughts, they came to smash me.
"Aaaa…!" I started shouting with my eyes fully shut down.
The moment I opened my eyes, something astonishing happened. Everything froze and right in front of me I saw the witch whom I forgot but she didn't. She stopped the time and sent me to my past where I still didn't do this mistake.
At the end, I understood my mistake that we should never forget the one who helped us and that small is beautiful. We should also never try to change what god made with his ideas and if we do so it can sometimes even cause us death. Now I always visited the witch and took care of her.
The writer is a student of class 5, BACHA ENGLISH MEDIUM SCHOOL,
Farm gate Dhaka