The Girl Who Knew No Fear — a short story for English reading and speaking

Macy sat on a park bench, her eyes fixed on her daughter, Lila, who was halfway up the tallest slide in the playground.

The other children climbed slowly, cautious and careful. Lila didn’t even pause. She weaved between them, half their size but twice as fast, pushing herself upward like it was the only thing that mattered.

“She’s very brave,” said a woman on the next bench. She wore sunglasses and had that polished look Macy had come to recognise. “Is she yours?”

Macy nodded. “Yes. She’s mine.”

The woman smiled politely. “You must be proud.”

Macy gave a small smile in return but said nothing.

Pride wasn’t quite the word.

Lila had been different since the day she was born. At first, Macy thought she was just bold. But when Lila ran into the sea at two years old, laughing while her skin turned blue with cold, and never cried from scrapes or falls, Macy started to worry.

The doctor had explained it during a long appointment in a white room with buzzing lights.

Something in the amygdala, he had said, vaguely. Macy has no idea what he meant then. She still wasn’t sure.

“She has trouble processing fear,” the doctor had said. “And she may not feel pain in the normal way. You’ll have to keep a very close eye on her. More than most mothers. Twenty-four seven, if you can manage.”

And that’s what she did.

Or tried to do.

“Mum! Look!”

Macy blinked. Lila was now standing at the top of the slide, arms out like an acrobat, legs spread wide for balance.

Before Macy could speak, Lila launched herself down with a shout of joy, twisting as she went, and landed at the bottom, jumping up into a standing position like an Olympics gymnast, as if she’d trained for it all her life.

Gasps echoed from nearby parents.

Lila ran up to Macy, beaming.

“Did you see me, Mum?”

“Yes, darling,” Macy said, brushing a leaf from her daughter’s top. “I saw.”

Macy tried to resist checking how the other parents nearby reacted, but she could not.

Some mothers nearby gave her that look. The look that Macy knew only too well by now.

Tight smiles. A tilt of the head. The kind of look that says: What kind of mother lets her child do that?

But they didn’t know Lila.

They couldn’t.

“Can we get ice cream?” Lila asked, bouncing on her toes. “Please?”

Macy stood and nodded. “Alright. But stay close.”

They crossed the park toward the ice-cream van near the path by the road.

Cars sometimes came through the bend too fast, ignoring the 20km signs.

The ice-cream van was parked beside a hedge. A man in a green hat served cones from a little window.

“Strawberry and bubblegum,” Lila said, without thinking.

Macy paid, and they sat down on a wooden bench. It was warm now, the sun soft on her back. She took a breath and allowed herself to relax, just for a moment.

Lila licked her cone and glanced up.

“Mum, do you remember when I climbed on top of the garage?”

Macy flinched. “Yes. I remember.”

“I wanted to see what the birds can see,” Lila said.

Macy nodded, saying nothing. She remembered too well. Lila had climbed out the upstairs window, balanced along the narrow ledge in just her socks and pyjamas, and leapt onto the neighbour’s garage roof. The firefighter who rescued her had been polite, but his eyes had said everything.

“I didn’t fall though,” Lila said proudly.

“No. You didn’t,” Macy said, her voice tight.

“I liked it up there,” Lila added. “It was peaceful.”

She continued eating her ice cream, eyes following a bird flying overhead. A pigeon, grey and simple, but to Lila it might as well have been an eagle.

Suddenly, she stood up.

“Lila. Sit down. Finish your ice cream.”

“I just want to see where the bird goes.”

“Lila, no. Stay here.”

But Lila was already running, cone in one hand, the other stretched out like she was balancing on a wire.

“Lila!”

She turned and grinned. “It’s okay, Mum!”

Then she was off like a bolt of lightning.

Macy’s heart skipped.

She got to her feet, her own cone slipping from her fingers and falling to the path.

“Lila!”

She ran, panic chasing through her nervous system. Lila was already near the hedge that bordered the small footpath. The trees blocked Macy’s view. She could hear voices, a dog barking, a car engine.

“Lila!” Macy pushed through the hedge.

But there was no sign of her daughter.

Just the road. A car moving slowly around the bend. A woman with shopping bags. A boy on a bike riding past. A patch of pink ice cream melting on the hot pavement.

Macy turned in every direction.

Behind the ice-cream van.

Behind the bench.

Along the path.

Nowhere.

“LILA!”

A man looked over, startled. “Are you alright?”

Macy didn’t answer. She kept turning, searching.

She ran back toward the hedge, pushed through the leaves again, came out the other side. Back into the park. Scanned the grass. The slide. The climbing frame.

Nothing.

No small girl in red sandals.

No dirt-stained T-shirt.

No cheeky grin.

“Lila…” Macy whispered, her voice thin. “Where are you?”

The world was calm. Too calm. People strolled by. Children laughed on the swings. A dog chased a ball. Everything was normal.

Except it wasn’t.

Macy couldn’t see her daughter. There was no sign of her.

And when a girl who doesn’t know fear runs into the world without looking back…

There’s no telling where she might end up