A letter from China..
A melody flew through the chilly winter air, vibrating in the millions of tiny drops falling from the sky.
It flew across People's Square, where it passed almost unnoticed under the sound of festivities:
People had come from all over the country for the Spring Festival, and now reunited families were walking along the market, laughing and talking.
The markets during Chinese New Year were amazing, with the smell of dumplings and noodles and so many other delicious foods everywhere.
The melody drifted through town, stopping to admire all the beautiful decorations people put up around the city;
not even the rain could bring down the hundreds of parties all around the town.
The melody was shut out.
People didn't hear it because they were too busy cooking or playing or watching TV.
It flew around the town, looking for someone to listen to it.
To appreciate it.
And most of all, to make it strong again.
Suddenly it saw an open window.
It was part of a beautiful house, with freshly painted walls and a lovely veranda full of flowers and plants.
The melody flew through the polished glass into a silent room with old furniture, a lively carpet adding color to
the room and neat clothes piled on a wooden chair on the side of the bed.
On it sat a girl, carefully leaned down, drawing.
The melody observed her for a minute. She had smooth black hair which cascaded down her shoulders
in such a way that it acted like a curtain so that the melody couldn't see her face.
The silence was only broken by the sound of rain outside and the pencil sketching across the page.
Curious, the melody flew above her and looked at her drawing. It showed a sketch of raindrops hitting the floor of
an empty street, dirty with mud and full of trashcans piling up on the side.
The road seemed endless, making its way to the unknown.
It gave a feeling of loneliness and coldness and abandonment.
The melody felt sad, seeing this girl in a beautiful house, full of nice things but feeling so melancholic and fearing the unknown.
So, it flew around the girl, ringing and giving newfound energy to the emptiness around her.
The girl's eyes lit up.
She started drawing music notes around the sketch, and erased the center area.
She drew a man, holding a flute, blowing in it with his eyes closed.
It was simply incredible how beautiful the drawing was, detailed and amazing.
The melody flew close to the girl's chest, and noticed that the rhythm of the pencil had the same rhythm as her heart.
The melody rejoiced as the girl started to smile, and was proud that it had brought at least a bit of light in that dark bedroom.
Then a strong gust of wind blew into the room, blowing the notebook right off the bed and onto the floor, crumpling it up.
The girl leaped down and tried to save the paper, but in doing so she tipped over a glass of water which spilled
all over her beautiful drawing. The melody watched, horrified, as the man and his flute faded into the street.
The girl picked up the damp notebook, still open, and flipped through, looking for something to save.
Nothing was left.
The melody flew around the sketches, trying to dry them somehow.
But it couldn't do anything.
A tear rolled down the girl's cheek, as she realized that all the work she'd done,
the hours she had spent getting her dreams onto paper were gone.
She stood without even picking the notebook up, and let herself fall onto the bed.
She buried her head into the blankets and sobbed softly.
The melody sensed her sadness more than anything in the room, and tried to slip under the pillows,
urging the girl to pick herself up.
But it was useless.
The melody then noticed a small carillon on the folded clothes.
On it was a picture of a fairy, wearing a wavy blue dress and looking in the distance,
almost like someone called her and she had just turned around.
The melody slipped in through the glass cracks and pushed the lever forwards, but it wouldn't budge.
After all, the melody wasn't anything more than a musical thought drifting through the wind.
It had been hiding outside the whole time, ashamed of ruining the girl's drawings.
The melody urged him to come in, and together they pushed the carillon down, and with a loud thump it landed on the carpet.
The girl looked up.
Wind rushed away, afraid to make too much noise and returned to the rain.
The girl sat on her bed covers, still silent and sad but curious at the same time.
She stood up, almost shaking, and crawled to the other end of the bed.
Her tiny hand reached down and picked the carillon up.
She twisted the tiny lever and a beautiful music rung through the air.
The melody joined the carillon music, and together they flew around the room, sliding along small gusts
of wind who had silently entered moments before.
The air was alive with music and wind and happiness, and the girl also started to hum the carillon music,
twirling around her bed and making up dance steps along the way.
It was beautiful and natural and real.
The melody drifted away from the carillon music, and observed the heartwarming
scene of that girl smiling and dancing on her own, laughing at nothing but making everything she touched come alive.
It was time to go. The melody had done its part in bringing joy in someone's heart,
and now its job was done.
Together with the wind they glided through the night.
And as the melody glanced down, she caught sight of silver umbrellas reflecting the light of the lanterns, which looked like fireflies in the night.