The Midnight Visitor
In a small, quiet town nestled between rolling hills, there lived a boy named Ravi. Ravi was resourceful, hardworking, and had a knack for finding ways to support his family. His mother, a widow who worked tirelessly as a seamstress, inspired Ravi to pitch in wherever he could. His latest venture was ironing clothes for neighbors.
With his trusty old iron and a rickety wooden table, Ravi turned a small corner of their modest home into a makeshift laundry service. By day, he attended school and played with his friends, but in the evenings, he transformed into the “Iron Boy,” smoothing out wrinkles and earning a few precious coins.
One night, orders piled up after a local wedding had left everyone with wrinkled formalwear. Determined to finish, Ravi worked well past his usual bedtime. The warm glow of the lamp cast long shadows across the room as he focused on the rhythmic hiss of steam escaping the iron.
Just as the clock struck midnight, a soft clop-clop echoed from outside. Ravi froze, the iron hovering mid-air. The sound grew louder until it stopped right outside his window.
A deep, resonant voice broke the silence.
“Didn’t your mother tell you not to be ironing clothes late at night?”
Ravi’s heart jumped into his throat. He turned slowly to the window, and his eyes widened. Standing there, framed by the moonlight, was a horse—a magnificent creature with a shimmering coat and a mane that seemed to ripple like liquid silver. Its dark eyes sparkled with an otherworldly light, and its lips moved as it spoke.
“W-who are you?” Ravi stammered, clutching the iron like a shield.
The horse tilted its head. “Names are not important. But you should know that ironing past midnight stirs things best left undisturbed.”
“Things? What things?” Ravi asked, his curiosity momentarily overriding his fear.
The horse snorted softly, a sound that almost resembled a chuckle. “Spirits. Shadows. Call them what you will. They grow restless in the heat of the iron at night. You don’t want to invite them in.”
Ravi glanced at the clothes piled on the table, then back at the horse. “But I need to finish these. People are counting on me.”
The horse’s eyes softened, and it stepped closer to the window. “Your dedication is admirable, but heed my warning. For tonight, let it be. Finish in the morning.”
Before Ravi could reply, the horse reared slightly, its silver mane glinting in the moonlight. With a final, cryptic look, it trotted off into the darkness, leaving Ravi staring after it in stunned silence.
The next morning, Ravi woke to find his mother standing at the table, finishing the last of the ironing. “You were so tired, I thought I’d help,” she said with a smile.
Ravi hesitated, then decided not to mention the midnight visitor. But from that day on, he made sure to finish his ironing before nightfall.
Though he never saw the horse again, he sometimes heard the faint clop-clop of hooves in the distance, as if reminding him of that strange, magical night. And in his heart, he carried the lesson that some tasks are best left for the light of day.
