Uncle, help me! Mommy’s been sleeping for three days, and there’s a weird SMELL
Certainly. Here’s a rewritten version of your story in English, preserving the same tone, meaning, and length, but with different wording and phrasing:
“Uncle, please help! Mommy’s been sleeping for three days, and there’s a strange SMELL!” cried the little girl from next door.
Marissa gave a small sigh, picked up her doll, and headed to the other room to play. Mommy was just resting—she mustn’t be disturbed. “She gets really tired from work,” Marissa explained to her plush toy.
The doll blinked its large, painted eyes as though it understood. But the truth was, five-year-old Marissa—who had been raised by her single mother, Olivia—hadn’t gone to preschool in two days because no one was there to take her. It had always been just the two of them since Olivia’s divorce.
Olivia worked long hours at a grocery store checkout. Since the supermarket stayed open all night, her shifts rotated—sometimes during the day, sometimes overnight. On those long nights, their kind neighbors, Uncle Brian and Aunt Irene, would look after Marissa.
They made sure she was fed and tucked into bed. When Olivia returned from work in the morning, she’d have breakfast, take a quick shower, and then sleep. That day was no different—except this time, she didn’t wake up.
Marissa, unaware of what had happened, was simply glad she didn’t have to go to school. She snuggled beside her mom and drifted off peacefully. When she woke, she gently shook her mother’s arm. No response. She toddled to the kitchen and warmed up a sausage in the microwave by herself.
After eating, she played quietly, watched cartoons, and returned to check on her sleeping mom. Still no change. As the sun went down, she decided it was time for bed again.
By the next morning, Olivia still hadn’t stirred. The refrigerator was empty except for a hardened piece of bread. Marissa didn’t yet know how to use the stove to make tea.
Her stomach growled. She tried again to wake her mother—nudging, shaking, even splashing water on her face—but nothing worked.
She cried for a while, then crawled into bed beside her mother once more and fell asleep.
When the sun peeked through the curtains the next morning, she woke up again. Her stomach was rumbling. She looked over at her mother—still lying there—and sniffed the air.
It didn’t smell like her mom’s usual scent. There was a strange, sweet smell she couldn’t place. She reached out and touched her mother’s hand. It was cold. Not soft like before—but stiff and bluish.
“Uncle Brian, help!” she called out, knocking on their door. “Mommy’s been asleep for three days, and she smells funny!”
It was only 6 a.m., but the drowsy neighbor quickly stepped outside. When he entered their apartment, he froze in place.
Olivia lay facing the wall, and the air was thick with a scent he recognized instantly—one he’d learned to identify during his years as an emergency nurse.
“Marissa, sweetheart, come with me,” Brian said, offering his hand gently. “Let’s go to my place. Aunt Irene will make you something warm to eat.”
“But what about Mommy?” she asked, glancing back at the motionless figure on the bed.
“We’ll take care of her, okay?” Brian said, trying to keep his voice steady, though his chest felt tight. “You need to come with me right now.”
The girl hesitated, eyes fixed on her mom.
“Why won’t she get up? Is she sick?”
Brian swallowed, struggling to respond.
“Yes, she is. Very sick. That’s why we need to call someone to help. But first, come with me.”
He led her gently to his apartment next door. Irene, who had been alerted by the commotion, was already at the door in her robe, eyes full of worry.
“What’s going on?” she whispered after seeing the look on her husband’s face.
Brian leaned close and murmured, “Olivia’s gone. I think it happened days ago. Call the ambulance—and the police. I’ll stay with Marissa.”
Irene’s hand flew to her mouth in horror.
“Oh no… was she all alone this whole time?”
Brian nodded grimly, then looked over at Marissa, who stood in the living room, still clutching her doll.
“Sweetheart, did you eat anything this morning?”
She shook her head.
“The fridge is empty. Mommy didn’t go shopping.”
“Okay. Let’s get you some breakfast. Then you can play here a while, alright?”
The girl nodded. Irene wiped her eyes quickly and began preparing eggs and toast.
Brian stepped out onto the balcony to make the necessary phone calls.
When he came back, Marissa was already eating, her hair being gently brushed by Irene, who was chatting softly to distract her.
“Will someone help Mommy?” Marissa asked between bites.
Brian and Irene exchanged a glance.
“Yes, dear,” Irene said with a smile. “Some very good doctors are on their way. They know just what to do.”
“Does Mommy need special doctors?” the child asked.
Brian sat down next to her, carefully considering his words.
“Marissa… your mommy…” But before he could continue, the doorbell rang.
Irene opened the door to reveal two paramedics and a pair of police officers.
“Where is the patient?” one asked.
“Next door,” Brian said quietly. “Please be discreet. The child is here and doesn’t fully understand.”
They nodded respectfully and went to Olivia’s apartment. A kind-faced female officer stayed behind and knelt beside Marissa.
“Hi, I’m Officer Anna. Can I chat with you a bit?”
Marissa tilted her head, curious, and nodded.
“About Mommy?”
“Yes. About her, and about you. Can you tell me what happened over the last few days?”
With the innocent honesty of a five-year-old, Marissa recounted how her mommy had eaten dinner and gone to bed, and how she hadn’t woken up. She told her about heating food, watching cartoons, and trying to wake her up.
Anna wrote everything down, occasionally asking gentle follow-up questions. In the corner, the other officer was now speaking softly with Brian.
“Marissa, do you have any relatives? Maybe a grandma or an uncle?”
The little girl nodded thoughtfully.
“Grandma Ellen lives far away, in a village. We go there in summer. Daddy left a long time ago.”
Anna looked to her colleague, who was already on the phone—likely contacting child welfare services.
“Until we reach your grandma, would it be okay if you stayed here with Uncle Brian and Aunt Irene?”
“Of course she can,” Irene said, stroking Marissa’s hair. “As long as needed.”
Anna smiled warmly, then turned back to the girl.
“Marissa, I need to tell you something important. It may be hard to hear, but I know you’re very brave.”
The child’s eyes widened, clutching her doll tighter.
“Your mommy isn’t just sleeping anymore. She’s gone to a place where people don’t come back from.”
“She left me?” Marissa asked, confused.
“She didn’t want to, sweetheart. But sometimes people get very tired and their hearts stop. When that happens, they go to a special place—one without pain or sadness.”
Tears welled up in Marissa’s eyes.
“Who will take care of me now?”
“There are many people who care about you,” Anna said, gently squeezing her hand. “Uncle Brian and Aunt Irene for now, and maybe soon your grandma. And we’ll all make sure you’re okay.”
The girl was quiet, then whispered, “Mommy won’t come back ever?”
“Not in the way you remember. But some believe those we love stay close in spirit, even if we can’t see them anymore.”
Marissa began to cry softly. Irene embraced her, rubbing her back gently.
In the days that followed, everything changed. Olivia’s body was taken for examination, and her cause of death was found to be a brain aneurysm—sudden and painless.
Child services contacted Grandma Ellen, who arrived quickly. Though elderly, she was strong and determined.
“She needs the countryside,” she said. “Fresh air, animals, friends—and someone who will always be home.”
On the day Marissa was to leave, she came to say goodbye.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” she said with surprising maturity.
“Will you come visit?” Irene asked, holding back tears.
“Grandma says every month. And she’ll tell me stories about Mommy every night, so I won’t forget her.”
Brian knelt and hugged her tight.
“You’ve been so brave, Marissa. I know your mom would be proud.”
Marissa smiled faintly, then offered him her doll.
“I want you to keep Anabelle, so you’ll always remember me.”
Irene took the doll silently, tears running down her cheeks.
As the car disappeared down the street, Brian and Irene stood hand in hand. Though Marissa was leaving, a part of their hearts would always belong to the little girl who had shown such quiet strength through unthinkable sorrow.
That night, in her new bed in the quiet countryside, Marissa listened to Grandma Ellen telling stories.
“Your mommy had the same big eyes and the same smile,” her grandma said, brushing her hair gently.
“Do you think she can see me now?” Marissa whispered.
“I’m sure she can,” Grandma replied, kissing her forehead. “And I think she’s smiling down at her brave little girl.”
Marissa smiled, closed her eyes, and imagined her mommy in the sky above—watching over her, lighting up the stars. And for the first time since that long sleep began, she felt safe again.