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Speaker 1: It was an autumn evening and the sky had filled

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up with gray clouds, soft like little elephant tummies. Sky, Ziggy, Lily,

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and Dash were playing inside, sitting on the rug building

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a castle out of soft, squishy cushions. Outside, the first

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drops of gentle rain went tap tap tap on the window,

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like tiny fingers knocking to come in. Aw said Dash, huffing,

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I wanted to look at the stars tonight, Me too,

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whispered Sky, resting her chin on her knees. Sky was

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the quietest of the four, and she loved the stars

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more than anything. They looked like gentle little lights watching

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over every one. Right at that moment, from the garden

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came a sound they knew very well. Chuff, chuff, chew, chew.

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The four children ran to the window. On the shiny

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tracks popped up out of nowhere was Toby the magic train,

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all colorful, puffing little clouds of sweet smelling smoke. Good evening,

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dear children, What joy that you're here. Hop into the carriage.

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We're off. Let's all cheer. I'll take you to gardens

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with fountains that gleam, where someone has waited as long

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as a dream. The children clapped their hands and pulling

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on their little jackets, hurried aboard. The little train, whistled happily,

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and set off, sliding through the gentle rain that kept

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going tap tap tap. After a short trip through the clouds,

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Toby stopped in front of a golden gate. The children

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climbed down and stood with their mouths wide open. In

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front of them was a huge, elegant garden, with fountains

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that whispered, and bushes trimmed into the shapes of animals.

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There was an elephant made of leaves, a rabbit made

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of twigs, even a dragon made of green moss. The

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stone statues seemed to watch them with old, old eyes.

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This is the royal garden of the whispering statues. Lily

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red on a little sign. The soft rain wet the flowers,

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and at the far end of the garden rose a tall,

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thin tower with a little round window at the top.

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Do you hear that? Said Sky? Stopping all at once,

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they all listened hard. From the tower came a thin

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little cry, like a sad whistle, sniff, sniff. Someone is crying,

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said Sky, and without thinking twice, she ran toward the tower.

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The others followed her. They climbed a curly staircase, step

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after step up to the room at the top. There,

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resting against a big brass telescope pointed at the sky,

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was a shiny little thing trembling all over. It was

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a feather, but not just any feather. It was golden, soft,

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and it smelled of powdery sugar. A feather that cries,

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asked Dash, amazed, the golden feather spun around and jumped back, frightened.

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Oh who who are you? Please don't hurt me. Don't

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be afraid, said Sky in a sweet voice, coming closer slowly.

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We are friends. Why are you crying, little feather? The

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feather sniffled with its tiny, invisible nose. I am the

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magic feather. My job is to draw the right paths

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in the sky, following the stars. But tonight, tonight, the

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stars are gone. I looked for them with the telescope,

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but everything is gray and black without the stars. I

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get lost, and I'm so scared of the dark. And

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she started to tremble again. Sky came even closer and

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reached out her hand. Ants may I, she asked kindly.

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The feather hesitated, then landed on Sky's warm palm. The

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little girl wrapped her up gently and warmed her with

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her breath, the way you warm cold little hands in winter.

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There like this, everything is okay. We are here with

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you now. Little by little, the feather stopped trembling. You

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are so kind, she whispered. No one has ever warmed

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me like this. Ziggy meanwhile, had gone up to the

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big telescope. Look, he said, the glass is all white

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and foggy, like the bathroom mirror after a hot shower.

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Lily blue on it and try to wipe it with

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her sleeve, but it stayed just as foggy. You can't

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see anything at all. That's why the stars seem gone,

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understood Sky, They are not really gone. It's the glass

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of the telescope that is foggy, so we just can't

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see them. The feather, cheered up a little by Sky's warmth,

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said shyly. There is someone who knows how to fix it,

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the old keeper of the garden. But she is far away,

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at the very back among the flowers. And I'm scared

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of the dark. Sky looked the feather in her little eyes.

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You know, sometimes I'm a little scared of the dark, too,

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But do you know what I found out? That when

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we are together, the dark gets smaller. Do you want

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to lead the way for us? I'll hold you, I

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won't let you go. The feather thought about it, then,

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with one small, brave breath, she said, I I'll try,

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and all of a sudden, from her golden tip, a

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trail of little glowing stars began to come out, floating

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in the air like fireflies. When I'm happy or brave,

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the little stars come out, she said, surprised at herself.

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You're wonderful, cried Dash. Following the feather's golden trail, the

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children went down from the tower and crossed the garden.

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The soft rain kept going tap tap tap on the leaves,

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and the animal bushes seemed to wave at them as

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they passed. The twig rabbit seemed to wiggle its ears,

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and the moss dragon seemed to smile. At the far

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end of the garden, under an arch covered with round

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blue flowers, they found a little old lady sitting on

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a bench. She had hair as white as cream, an

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apron full of tiny pockets, and she held a watering

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can on her lap. Beside her. The blue flowers swayed

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in the gentle rain, good evening. Little ones, said the

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old lady with a warm smile, not even surprised. I

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am Granny Hortensia. I have looked after this garden for

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a very long time. What brings you here on such

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a damp evening? Sky stepped forward with the feather in

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her hands. Good evening, Granny Hortensia. The telescope in the

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tower is all foggy and we can't see the stars

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any more. The feather was so sad. They told us,

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you know how to fix it. The Granny's eyes lit up. Ah,

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the old telescope. Of course, I know how it's done.

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It's an old secret, you know. My own Grannie taught

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me when I was as little as you, many many

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winters ago. She stood up, calmly, leaning on a little stick. Come,

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I'll show you, but first tell me. Have you ever

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seen how you dry someone's tears? The children looked at

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each other curious. Foggy glass, said Grannie Hortensia as they

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walked toward the tower. Is just like eyes when they

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fill up with tears. Everything goes blurry and mixed up.

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But you don't need to rub hard or get angry.

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You only need one kind gesture and a little patience.

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Back at the top of the tower, the granny took

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a soft, clean cloth from a little pocket in her apron.

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Then she did something that surprised every one. She brought

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her mouth close to the glass of the telescope and

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breathed on it, warm and slow ah, as if to

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warm it up. Then, with gentle round movements, she wiped

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the cloth over the glass without hurrying. The secret, she whispered,

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is the warmth of your breath and the softness of

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your hand. The cold makes it foggy. Kind warmth makes

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it clear. Always like this with things and with people.

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Sky watched, enchanted. It seemed to her the most beautiful

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thing in the world. Would you like to try, asked

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Granny Hortensia, holding out the cloth. Sky nodded with the

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feather resting on her shoulder to watch. She brought her

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face close to the glass, breathed her warm little breath

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on it, and wiped the cloth with the same gentleness

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as the granny. One circle, two circles, three circles, And

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then it happened the glass turned clear and see through

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like fountain water. At that very moment, as if by magic,

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the clouds in the sky opened up the rain stopped

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all at once, and up high above rose a huge

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full moon, round in silvery, that lit the whole garden

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with silver light. Look, look in the telescope, shouted Ziggy.

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One at a time. The children put their eye to

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the telescope, and they saw, They saw a whole sky

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full of stars, thousands and thousands, shining like little crumbs

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of light. They had never really been gone, They had

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always been there waiting for someone to clean the glass

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with love. The magic feather let out a little squeal

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of joy. Now she wasn't scared any more, and she

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didn't tremble any more. She flew up high into the

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silvery sky and began to draw with her golden trail.

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She spun, she glided, She made circles and curls, and

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little by little, among the real stars, a big glowing

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word appeared, Thank you. Sky. Felt her eyes go shiny.

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But it wasn't sadness. No, it was that warm, sweet

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thing that fills your heart when something is too beautiful.

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She smiled, and one small happy tear rolled down her cheek.

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Grannie Hortensia rested a hand on her head. You see,

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little one, the most precious things are never really lost.

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Sometimes they just need someone who knows how to look

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at them with gentleness. Thank you, Granny Hortensia, said, sky

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hugging her, I will remember your secret forever. Grandparents keep

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so many secrets, answered the old lady, laughing softly. You

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only have to ask for them and remember them. That way,

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they are never lost. They stayed a little longer, looking

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at the stars, all together with the feather doing somersaults

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in the moonlight. Then from the garden came the whistle

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that was now so familiar. Chuff chuff, Wocho Toby. The

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magic train was waiting for them at the Golden Gate,

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shining under the moon. What a special evening, What wonderful cheer.

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The stars were all shining, so bright and so near.

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A glass wiped with warmth till it sparkled anew and

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a granny who shared all her secrets with you. Climb

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in now, dear children, I'll rock you to sleep, while

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stars keep on blooming, so soft and so deep. The

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children waved good bye to Granny Hortensia until the blue

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arch disappeared into the distance. The magic feather flew beside

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the window for one last good bye, letting a trail

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of little stars fall on to their hair. As the

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little train slid gently toward home, Sky looked at the

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moon from the window with a smile on her lips

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and her head slowly leaning on Lily's shoulder. She had

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learned something important that evening, That grandparents know so many

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lovely things, kind gestures and old secrets, and that you

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only have to listen to them to find the light again,

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even on the darkest evenings. And with that warm thought

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in her heart, she fell asleep while outside the window

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the stars watched over every one