She stood by the window, enfolded by the music of November. A cold and gloomy wind threw the fallen leaves mercilessly throughout the garden while low-hanging grey clouds threatened with rain…
She turned and resolutely went into the kitchen, and soon the gentle fragrance of spiced tea began to spread throughout the house.
Choosing a cup with a winking sun, she drew the warm, red blanket around her shoulders as she settled comfortably into the living room sofa, next to the peacefully sleeping cat. Inhaling the wonderful aroma, she took a sip of the hot golden drink…
On the screen in front of her, photos by her friends began to appear… And by the time the cup had turned halfway full, November seemed something far-away and unreal.
Suddenly, the screen faded and turned black, and then a face emerged. It seemed friendly to her, but very strange too… She set the mug aside and peered closely at it.
“Who could it be?” she wondered.
“Can’t you see: I am a spirit!” the creature unexpectedly answered playfully.
Jumping in surprise, she blinked and then looked at the screen again. The face of the mysterious spirit was multi-coloured symmetrical lines, and its eyes glowed with joy – and yet, at the same time, seemed tinged with sadness.
“You must be the spirit of the rainbow!” she exclaimed.
“Guessed… Almost,” it answered intriguingly.
“Why do you have square eyes?” she asked suddenly.
“That is to see you better, my dear.” And then, sensing her confusion, it explained helpfully, “Your world for me is a large room based on four elements …”
“Uhm… quite. And why does your mouth look like a door?” she tried again.
“That is so that I can…”
For some reason, the spirit stopped abruptly. But then the rainbow lines framing the mouth-door somehow began to resemble a kind of colourful tunnel. And, although she continued to sit on the couch, the door seemed to approach her slowly. Finally, not understanding how, she found herself right in front of the threshold.
“You really want to know, don’t you, what is there?” the spirit urged. Its voice became as the surf of a gentle wave in the sea, filled with endless shades of feelings and emotions.
Trying to calm her trembling heart, she closed her eyes for a moment and then asked again “Be so kind to answer, sir. What kind of spirit are you really?”
“The spirit of a fairy tale, my lady,” it whispered, opening the door in front of her.
She took a deep breath and looked beyond…
For a Russian version, with some different photos and music,
please click here: ДУХ СКАЗКИ
Story: Elena Voroniouk © 2019, all rights reserved.
Evgeny Kissin: Rachmaninoff – Prelude Op 3 No 2 in C Sharp minor
Rimsky-Korsakov – Scheherazade