Author’s note: This is a simple children’s story about transforming what we see as our enemy or obstacle, such as writer’s block, into our ally. Please enjoy.

A long time ago, a little girl had a recurring nightmare. Night after night, she was chased by a mean witch, who had a black dress, black hair, bright red eyes, and a sharp, nasty knife. And night after night, the girl woke up from the nightmare, crying and scared.

One night, she woke from yet another nightmare, and ran down the long, dark hallway leading to her parents’ bedroom, the sound of her bare feet on the wood floor echoing behind her. She could see that the door to her parents’  bedroom was open just enough that there was a faint light spilling into the hallway, guiding her way. The door made a slight creaking sound as she opened it enough to see that her parents were both asleep in their giant bed, lighted only by the moonlight that was streaming through the windows that flanked her father’s side of the bed. She paused, and thought for a moment about whether her parents would get mad at her for waking them up, and decided that her mother would be the least likely to get mad. She took a deep breath, and tapped her mother’s shoulder several times very lightly before her mother finally opened one eye.

“Mama,” she said. “There’s a mean witch in my dream who is chasing me and I’m scared.”

Her mother, whose one open eye was really only halfway open, paused for a moment and whispered “Just tell her that you love her and go back to bed.”

As the little girl watched her mother’s one open eye slowly close again, she thought to herself that what her mother said would not help at all. Not one single bit.

“Hmmph,” the little girl said, putting her hands on her hips exactly the way her mother sometimes did. But her mother was already asleep. The little girl turned and slowly walked down the long dark hallway back to her room, stomping her feet ever so slightly, and got back in bed. After a while, she fell back to sleep.

The next night, the mean witch was back, chasing her with her sharp, nasty knife. The little girl ran, as frightened as ever, but then suddenly remembered what her mother had said. She stopped and turned around, facing the witch. The witch stopped as well, her eyes red with rage and her knife held high as if to strike.

The little girl mustered all the courage she had, raised her hand as if to say “stop,” and shouted at the witch.

“You don’t have to do this. I love you.”

Time seemed frozen for a long moment as the witch just stared at the little girl, the red fading from her eyes. The witch’s hair and dress also began to change color, as if by magic. From the darkest of dark to the lightest of light. To the little girl, she suddenly looked a lot more like an angel than a mean witch.

The witch then kneeled down until she was eye to eye with the little girl, brushing her now white hair from her face, and spoke in a soft, kind voice.

”You are the bravest little girl I have ever seen.”

“You see, your love has freed me.”

”I am your guardian angel.”

”I love you and will protect you always.”

Without hesitating, the girl hugged the angel, squeezing her as tightly as her little arms could, for what seemed like a very long time.

”No one has ever called me brave before.” the little girl whispered.

From that day forward, the little girl knew that she would always be loved, and never had another nightmare.