500 Words 2025/26: read a finalist's story from the 5-7 category

This story was chosen as a finalist for 500 Words 2025/26.

Remember, spelling, punctuation and grammar are not taken into account for a 500 Words story, therefore all the top 50 stories have been published how they were submitted.

My Two Worlds In One by Suhayla S.

My name is Saira Ali, and I'm eight years old. I live in a little house in Manchester with my mum, dad, and my brother, Safi. Mum says our home smells like Bangladesh because she's always cooking biryani or frying somosas. But I think it just smells like love - warm, spicy, and safe.This morning, Mum woke me early. "Utho, Saira!" she said - that means "wake up" in Bangla. I wanted to hide under the blanket, but then my eyes snapped open i remembered - it was the day of our school's Culture Celebration Fair! My heart gave a little jump, and Safi started bouncing on the bed like an excited puppy.After breakfast - which was delicious homemade paratha drizzled with honey - I packed my sparkly blue lehenga, the paper flags I'd made, and a box of Mum's homemade shondesh. They're sweet date-molasses balls that taste like golden sunshine. Mum smiled and said, "Share them with your friends so they can taste Bangladesh." I nodded proud, excited smile…When we reached school, the hall looked like a rainbow. There were children in kilts, saris, and football shirts, each one shining in their own colours. It was the whole world in one place all so proud and happy. The air smelled of curry, sausage rolls, and cupcakes - a swirl of scents that made my tummy rumble. Miss Hues smiled. "Saira, you look wonderful! What are you sharing today?"I told everyone about Pahela Baishakh, the Bangladeshi New Year. I explained how people wear red and white, sing joyful songs, and eat pitha, soft rice cakes filled with sweetness. My friend Emily asked, "Do you get any presents?" I giggled. "No, but we get music, dancing, and so much food!" Then I showed them the dance moves Mum had taught me. Safi joined in to, twirling beside me, and the whole class clapped and laughed. Even Miss Hues tried a spin before almost falling over!Later, I visited the British bake-off stall and tried a scone with jam and cream - cream first, of course. Dad says that's the Devon way, and very serious business. It tasted buttery and light, different from shondesh but still wonderfully tasty.I smiled, thinking how special it was to eat biryani and scones, wear a lehenga and trainers, and speak both Bangla and English - sometimes all in one go.At the end of the fair, Miss Hues gathered us on stage. "Today," she said, "we learned that being from two places means having twice as much to share." She looked at me and added, "Saira reminded us that our differences make our world brighter." My cheeks warmed like the red chillies in Mum's curry.That night, when I told Mum everything - the dancing, the scones, the laughter - she hugged me and whispered, "You are our bridge between Bangladesh and Britain."I smiled into her shoulder and squeezed her tight. I think she's right. I'm from two worlds, and that makes me feel like the luckiest girl on earth.

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