Music of the dreamers

by tothemoon

Listen to the melody of your heart

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"Listen to the melody of your heart"

Her wide eyes sparkling delight reflected wonderfully jingle bells, concealed inside the bird figurines on top of reddish clay columns. This sounds like a wonderful jingle singing, he soars above the audience, taking into the blue skies clean any alarms.

Stallion moves majestically along the white sand, smoothly stepping on a high dune, and weightless little one fun rides in his footsteps, imagining that everything one fluffy snow. Although she had never seen snow, but the stories of his father about the incredible "ice deserts" little one represented him the same sand, that's just rained down from the sky. That kind of weightless crumbs, white on the purity of which was called "snowflake" and were burning more than well water, gushing over the edge of the bucket, grabbed up from the bowels of a sultry afternoon.

Peach sun lying on the horizon, trying to roll down quietly for him to doze off and among the dunes of the milk. The rectangular bars of red clay, on top of which seemed to sit in the nest bird figurines lined up in a continuous colonnade along the way. Rough wind gusts blew warm lemon mare messing up her green mane, prickly and soft as young pine needles. Slight ringing of bells from a dozen plays upbeat song, flying among the desert, where no one would have heard …

Stallion spreads a carpet of gray wool on the hot sand. Now he sat on the edge and lays near him out of the bag sewn pillow stuffed with rags. At the pillow immediately swoop on little pony, crushing his tiny body and began embracing a pillow as a stuffed toy or a dear friend. Dreamy look of a happy little daughter cause her father a small smile, looking into her clear eyes, blue as the sky above their heads. Stallion says slowly:

The stallion is going to draw a line in the sand around the hoof coffee beans, weaving them into the patterns that resemble slender palm trees with spreading leaves, the ones that harmonous beauties grow only in the oases.

With every word of her father, in the imagination of dreamy new filly loom vivid images reflected lights up in stars in her eyes wide.

Caravan disappeared into the desert, taking with him fillies former life. Walkers in countless corridors light draft, depressing, hidden behind every corner of the rich palace. Cold luxury frozen in the form of hundreds of carpets and paintings. Gold and silver ware, placed on an elegant table full of ripe fruit, like for invisible guests. Tiny tongues hundreds of candles swayed in inconspicuous niches closed brass gratings, and meek covered the palace peace. Wherever there was coffee filly, corridors invariably led her under the majestic dome in the center of the palace, wide as the horizon, this is where fate had changed the life of one careless step.

Days passed and nights in absolute solitude and silence. Patient despair beginning to creep into the heart of the palace captive, forcing fade hope. Since the departure of the caravan, filly did not hear anything but their echoes that teased her volatile repetitions sounded like mockery invisible scoffers. Soon she felt like one of those birds sold by at bazaars in a gilded cage for huge pile of specie. But if you know how great captive birds sing or striking in its beauty, the coffee filly was dingy and quiet.

And withered cut flower, put in a vase, so faded and torn away from the soul of the world that caged. Once raising sad muzzle to the light that falls from the top of the dome directly to her, enveloping the full sorrow eyes, she began to sing softly. Thin and delicate, charming melody flowed from overflowing sorrow soul out, pouring through the countless corridors, filling the empty rooms of life. Music all her life, tormented inside coffee filly suddenly rang, playing straight from the trembling heart. Captive forgotten everything; yearning of cooped up, burden of loneliness, bitterness and despair. Adversity suddenly ceased to have any meaning, and left her, giving fabulous Chant, who submitted a whole new world. The one amazing world that is constantly nurtured in her soul. Listening and memorizing the surrounding sounds colorful reality. Reality, available to everyone, but is only open to her. And she heard the voice of the Master of the Palace of charming, heartfelt songs picked up the coffee fillies.

The narrator pauses and scoops up a handful of hoof glassy sand from its pour a thin stream a couple of coffee beans surrounded by palm trees and inscribed Palace.

Lemon filly nods in agreement, knowing that her father wishes her nothing but good. And really, is not good to force mom to worry about being late for a walk due to an unexpected history. And to make it in time, she quickly gathered scattered on the carpet jasper, playfully tumbleweed stone for stone in woven bag. Then joined his father helped to lay down carpet and pack travel bags. Finally, the two of them went home.