A picture is worth a thousand words: The stairs of solitude.

This must be a stair case leading to a quiet garden. The shade tells of it as a crawling flower that crawls on the world.
It feels like this garden is a place where people barely come around except for moments of isolation. The girl sitted on the stairs is seen burying her face in her laps. And I believe she must be disturbed by something.

The stairs of solitude.

The garden behind the house was quiet, almost forgotten, except by Mercy. The narrow staircase leading to it was lined with crawling flowers, their delicate shade casting soft patterns on the steps. It was a place of solitude, where only grief seemed to find comfort. Mercy often sat there, curled into herself, her face buried in her lap.

At just 15, Mercy had seen more hardship than most. She lost her father when she was only 10, and life grew unbearably difficult. She and her mother lived from hand to mouth. Her mother sold fairly used shoes and handbags; items often bought on credit and paid for after long delays.

Despite their struggles, Mercy remained focused on her education. She was in her final year of secondary school and preparing for her WAEC exams. Her mother, determined to give her daughter a future, working tirelessly to pay for both the WAEC and JAMB registration. Mercy, bright and hardworking, promised herself she would make her mother proud.

That month, fortune smiled on them. Her mother made enough to cover the exam fees. Mercy sat for both exams and excelled, clearing her WAEC and scoring an impressive 310 in her JAMB. Her mother was overjoyed. For the first time in a long while, hope came alive in their small home.

But joy was short-lived. Mercy’s mother fell gravely ill. Despite repeated attempts to get her treated, her condition worsened. And then, just like that, she was gone.Mercy was shattered.

Alone and heartbroken, she found solace in the garden where she sits on the narrow stairs, bury her face in her laps to cry. That was the only place where she could cry freely and question her Creator. It became her sanctuary.

Later, her uncle came to take her in. A new chapter was about to begin, but Mercy would always carrying her mother’s dreams, and a heart full of unspoken prayers.

Thanks for reading.
Stay inspired, stay true
It's your girl @Rita



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I will always feel it strange that out in the open where everyone can see you is the place where one can freely cry.

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It's strange, isn't it?
Well maybe anyone who does that demands to be seen even by strangers. You know, there must be something honest about not hiding how you feel 🤷

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