Mira and the Room of Quiet Noises

Mira’s bedroom had one loose floorboard. Every night, it gave a little squeak when she climbed into bed.

But one windy evening, it did not squeak. “Psst, Mira,” it whispered instead.

Mira knelt beside it. A thin golden line glowed around the board. When she lifted it, a tiny stairway curled down like a snail shell.

At the bottom was a room full of jars. One held a hiccup. Another held the pop of toast. A third stood empty, labeled RUSTLE.

A tiny woman in a patchwork coat hurried over. “Oh dear! The rustle has escaped!”

“What rustle?” asked Mira.

“The bedtime rustle,” said the woman. “It tucks blankets, turns pages, and helps tired children settle down.”

Something whisked past Mira’s ear. Shhhk-shhhk! It darted behind a tall jar of rain.

“There!” cried Mira. She reached behind the jar, but the rustle slipped under a table, making the paper labels flutter.

Mira noticed a basket of soft things: a woolly mitten, a feather, dry leaves, and a crinkly paper bag. “Does it like these?” she asked.

“It likes anything that makes a gentle sound,” said the tiny woman.

Mira spread the dry leaves in a trail across the floor. Shhhk-shhhk. The little rustle paused beside them.

Then she placed the feather at the end of the trail. The rustle floated over the leaves, tickled the feather, and curled into a small silver puff.

Quickly, the tiny woman opened the empty jar. Mira held the feather before its mouth. Shhhk! The silver puff followed the feather and slipped inside.

The woman clicked the lid shut. At once, the room grew calm, and the quiet noises settled in their jars.

“Thank you,” said the tiny woman. She gave Mira a new floorboard, smooth and warm as honey.

Back in her room, Mira fitted the new board into the gap and climbed into bed.

The board gave one happy squeak. Her blanket made a soft rustle as she tucked it beneath her chin.

Mira smiled into the dark. “Good night, little noises,” she whispered.