Blessing Nneka

winner of the pulitzer prize best short story THE GIRL IN THE SILHOUETTE Blessing Nneka CONTENTS THE GIRL IN THE SILHOUETTE EPILOGUE THE GIRL IN THE SILHOUETTE The moon hung low and heavy over the treetops, casting an ethereal glow across the winding forest path. The cold wind howled softly, as if whispering forgotten secrets. Inside the silhouette of a girl half dream, half memory something stirred. She was called Asha, though no one alive remembered her name anymore. Asha had lived in the village of Nthera, a place tucked deep within the mountains and shrouded in mist. People feared the forest that bordered it. They called it “The Hollowing Wood”, where spirits wandered and moonlight bent like memory. No one entered after dusk. Except her. One stormy night, Asha disappeared. No one knew why she had gone into the woods. Some claimed she had been lured by voices. Others said she was cursed. But the truth, like the moon, remained hidden behind clouds. 2 Twenty years later, a photojournalist named Eliah arrived in Nthera. She was young, curious, and obsessed with unsolved disappearances. She had heard whispers of the forest and the girl swallowed by shadows. Locals warned her, of course. “The path only appears in moonlight,” the old woman in the inn told her. “And if you follow it, it takes you not forward… but back.” Eliah didn’t believe in myths. She believed in clues. So when the full moon rose, she slipped into the forest camera slung around her neck, flashlight in her hand. Just as the legends claimed, a narrow path shimmered into view, winding between towering trees. What Eliah didn’t expect was the sensation: as if the trees were breathing… watching. As she walked, fog curled around her ankles. The forest grew quieter, thicker, older. Time itself felt wrong like she was drifting out of the present. Then she saw it. A woman in the distance—her back turned—wearing a long, sheer dress that fluttered though there was no wind. Her hair was long, black, wavy. She walked slowly, purposefully, down the moonlit trail. “Hello?” Eliah called out. The woman didn’t turn. Eliah followed. Every step deeper into the woods was like walking into someone else’s memory. Shapes moved in the corners of her eyes. Whispers tickled her ears in languages she didn’t know. The moon grew brighter—too bright until it felt like daydream. Trees melted into mist. Shadows turned to glass. Then the woman stopped. She stood at the base of a great tree, carved with dozens of names. One name glowed faintly beneath the moss: 2 ASHA. The woman slowly turned her face—and Eliah gasped. It was her own face. But older. Weathered. Tired. And full of knowing. The older Eliah whispered something she couldn’t hear. Then vanished. Suddenly, the forest howled. The ground cracked. The tree split open—and a hidden staircase spiraled down into darkness. ✦ Eliah descended. The air was cold and electric. At the bottom was a vast underground room—filled with photographs. Thousands of them. All of her, at different ages. Some she hadn’t lived yet. Some showed her writing books. Others—dead. On the wall was a mirror. When she looked into it… she didn’t see herself. She saw Asha. And suddenly, she remembered. She was Asha. Not a girl lost… but a soul reborn. A cycle that began in the forest, and now returned. Every 20 years, she was drawn back—never aging, always forgetting. She was the keeper of the woods, the guardian of the path between worlds. The forest had not taken her. It had become her. 2 EPILOGUE Some nights, on the edge of Nthera, a path still appears in moonlight. Locals say they see a girl’s silhouette, with a glowing crescent moon behind her, watching silently from the trees. They say she’s still walking—still remembering. And if you listen closely, the wind might whisper her name: Asha.