Speaker 1: It was an autumn evening and the sky had filled
up with gray clouds, soft like little elephant tummies. Sky, Ziggy, Lily,
and Dash were playing inside, sitting on the rug building
a castle out of soft, squishy cushions. Outside, the first
drops of gentle rain went tap tap tap on the window,
like tiny fingers knocking to come in. Aw said Dash, huffing,
I wanted to look at the stars tonight, Me too,
whispered Sky, resting her chin on her knees. Sky was
the quietest of the four, and she loved the stars
more than anything. They looked like gentle little lights watching
over every one. Right at that moment, from the garden
came a sound they knew very well. Chuff, chuff, chew, chew.
The four children ran to the window. On the shiny
tracks popped up out of nowhere was Toby the magic train,
all colorful, puffing little clouds of sweet smelling smoke. Good evening,
dear children, What joy that you're here. Hop into the carriage.
We're off. Let's all cheer. I'll take you to gardens
with fountains that gleam, where someone has waited as long
as a dream. The children clapped their hands and pulling
on their little jackets, hurried aboard. The little train, whistled happily,
and set off, sliding through the gentle rain that kept
going tap tap tap. After a short trip through the clouds,
Toby stopped in front of a golden gate. The children
climbed down and stood with their mouths wide open. In
front of them was a huge, elegant garden, with fountains
that whispered, and bushes trimmed into the shapes of animals.
There was an elephant made of leaves, a rabbit made
of twigs, even a dragon made of green moss. The
stone statues seemed to watch them with old, old eyes.
This is the royal garden of the whispering statues. Lily
red on a little sign. The soft rain wet the flowers,
and at the far end of the garden rose a tall,
thin tower with a little round window at the top.
Do you hear that? Said Sky? Stopping all at once,
they all listened hard. From the tower came a thin
little cry, like a sad whistle, sniff, sniff. Someone is crying,
said Sky, and without thinking twice, she ran toward the tower.
The others followed her. They climbed a curly staircase, step
after step up to the room at the top. There,
resting against a big brass telescope pointed at the sky,
was a shiny little thing trembling all over. It was
a feather, but not just any feather. It was golden, soft,
and it smelled of powdery sugar. A feather that cries,
asked Dash, amazed, the golden feather spun around and jumped back, frightened.
Oh who who are you? Please don't hurt me. Don't
be afraid, said Sky in a sweet voice, coming closer slowly.
We are friends. Why are you crying, little feather? The
feather sniffled with its tiny, invisible nose. I am the
magic feather. My job is to draw the right paths
in the sky, following the stars. But tonight, tonight, the
stars are gone. I looked for them with the telescope,
but everything is gray and black without the stars. I
get lost, and I'm so scared of the dark. And
she started to tremble again. Sky came even closer and
reached out her hand. Ants may I, she asked kindly.
The feather hesitated, then landed on Sky's warm palm. The
little girl wrapped her up gently and warmed her with
her breath, the way you warm cold little hands in winter.
There like this, everything is okay. We are here with
you now. Little by little, the feather stopped trembling. You
are so kind, she whispered. No one has ever warmed
me like this. Ziggy meanwhile, had gone up to the
big telescope. Look, he said, the glass is all white
and foggy, like the bathroom mirror after a hot shower.
Lily blue on it and try to wipe it with
her sleeve, but it stayed just as foggy. You can't
see anything at all. That's why the stars seem gone,
understood Sky, They are not really gone. It's the glass
of the telescope that is foggy, so we just can't
see them. The feather, cheered up a little by Sky's warmth,
said shyly. There is someone who knows how to fix it,
the old keeper of the garden. But she is far away,
at the very back among the flowers. And I'm scared
of the dark. Sky looked the feather in her little eyes.
You know, sometimes I'm a little scared of the dark, too,
But do you know what I found out? That when
we are together, the dark gets smaller. Do you want
to lead the way for us? I'll hold you, I
won't let you go. The feather thought about it, then,
with one small, brave breath, she said, I I'll try,
and all of a sudden, from her golden tip, a
trail of little glowing stars began to come out, floating
in the air like fireflies. When I'm happy or brave,
the little stars come out, she said, surprised at herself.
You're wonderful, cried Dash. Following the feather's golden trail, the
children went down from the tower and crossed the garden.
The soft rain kept going tap tap tap on the leaves,
and the animal bushes seemed to wave at them as
they passed. The twig rabbit seemed to wiggle its ears,
and the moss dragon seemed to smile. At the far
end of the garden, under an arch covered with round
blue flowers, they found a little old lady sitting on
a bench. She had hair as white as cream, an
apron full of tiny pockets, and she held a watering
can on her lap. Beside her. The blue flowers swayed
in the gentle rain, good evening. Little ones, said the
old lady with a warm smile, not even surprised. I
am Granny Hortensia. I have looked after this garden for
a very long time. What brings you here on such
a damp evening? Sky stepped forward with the feather in
her hands. Good evening, Granny Hortensia. The telescope in the
tower is all foggy and we can't see the stars
any more. The feather was so sad. They told us,
you know how to fix it. The Granny's eyes lit up. Ah,
the old telescope. Of course, I know how it's done.
It's an old secret, you know. My own Grannie taught
me when I was as little as you, many many
winters ago. She stood up, calmly, leaning on a little stick. Come,
I'll show you, but first tell me. Have you ever
seen how you dry someone's tears? The children looked at
each other curious. Foggy glass, said Grannie Hortensia as they
walked toward the tower. Is just like eyes when they
fill up with tears. Everything goes blurry and mixed up.
But you don't need to rub hard or get angry.
You only need one kind gesture and a little patience.
Back at the top of the tower, the granny took
a soft, clean cloth from a little pocket in her apron.
Then she did something that surprised every one. She brought
her mouth close to the glass of the telescope and
breathed on it, warm and slow ah, as if to
warm it up. Then, with gentle round movements, she wiped
the cloth over the glass without hurrying. The secret, she whispered,
is the warmth of your breath and the softness of
your hand. The cold makes it foggy. Kind warmth makes
it clear. Always like this with things and with people.
Sky watched, enchanted. It seemed to her the most beautiful
thing in the world. Would you like to try, asked
Granny Hortensia, holding out the cloth. Sky nodded with the
feather resting on her shoulder to watch. She brought her
face close to the glass, breathed her warm little breath
on it, and wiped the cloth with the same gentleness
as the granny. One circle, two circles, three circles, And
then it happened the glass turned clear and see through
like fountain water. At that very moment, as if by magic,
the clouds in the sky opened up the rain stopped
all at once, and up high above rose a huge
full moon, round in silvery, that lit the whole garden
with silver light. Look, look in the telescope, shouted Ziggy.
One at a time. The children put their eye to
the telescope, and they saw, They saw a whole sky
full of stars, thousands and thousands, shining like little crumbs
of light. They had never really been gone, They had
always been there waiting for someone to clean the glass
with love. The magic feather let out a little squeal
of joy. Now she wasn't scared any more, and she
didn't tremble any more. She flew up high into the
silvery sky and began to draw with her golden trail.
She spun, she glided, She made circles and curls, and
little by little, among the real stars, a big glowing
word appeared, Thank you. Sky. Felt her eyes go shiny.
But it wasn't sadness. No, it was that warm, sweet
thing that fills your heart when something is too beautiful.
She smiled, and one small happy tear rolled down her cheek.
Grannie Hortensia rested a hand on her head. You see,
little one, the most precious things are never really lost.
Sometimes they just need someone who knows how to look
at them with gentleness. Thank you, Granny Hortensia, said, sky
hugging her, I will remember your secret forever. Grandparents keep
so many secrets, answered the old lady, laughing softly. You
only have to ask for them and remember them. That way,
they are never lost. They stayed a little longer, looking
at the stars, all together with the feather doing somersaults
in the moonlight. Then from the garden came the whistle
that was now so familiar. Chuff chuff, Wocho Toby. The
magic train was waiting for them at the Golden Gate,
shining under the moon. What a special evening, What wonderful cheer.
The stars were all shining, so bright and so near.
A glass wiped with warmth till it sparkled anew and
a granny who shared all her secrets with you. Climb
in now, dear children, I'll rock you to sleep, while
stars keep on blooming, so soft and so deep. The
children waved good bye to Granny Hortensia until the blue
arch disappeared into the distance. The magic feather flew beside
the window for one last good bye, letting a trail
of little stars fall on to their hair. As the
little train slid gently toward home, Sky looked at the
moon from the window with a smile on her lips
and her head slowly leaning on Lily's shoulder. She had
learned something important that evening, That grandparents know so many
lovely things, kind gestures and old secrets, and that you
only have to listen to them to find the light again,
even on the darkest evenings. And with that warm thought
in her heart, she fell asleep while outside the window
the stars watched over every one