7. The Muses’ Spring.

As I struggled through the bushes, stoically enduring the scrapes and punctures of

rosehips and blackheads, I thought about my future wings and everything they would allow me to know. Suddenly, the singing of birds that I had never heard before took me out of my fantasies.

I walked a few more meters and noticed that underlying the melodious singing of those birds was the gurgling of a spring. And the closer I got, the more sounds I perceived!

 I immediately smelt the subtle aroma of water running among willows, freesias, and orange trees in bloom. When I reached the shore, I drank from the fresh waters that meandered playfully, spinning and jumping into small crystal waterfalls. I leaped over the narrow spring and followed its course for a long stretch, immersed in the extraordinary symphony that flooded that place

This side of the spring was free of weeds or thorns blocking my path. There were only spaced trees that let the warm rays of the sun penetrate through their branches. And all kinds of musical sounds reverberated everywhere.

I would have liked to stop there indefinitely, but Destrouch warned me that I could only stay in that place for a short time:

«Visitors are allowed to stop and rest for a while, but then they must go on their way. Unless they are willing to participate in the orchestra, help color the flowers, carve the fallen twigs, sculpt the spring rocks, or do something like that,» he explained. «In a few words, the muses don’t admit just anyone into their spring. Whoever wants to stay here must help them create beautiful things for their magnificent home.»

And Hope added: «You can visit their spring whenever they invite you. But the muses are as generous as they are demanding! They only allow free entry to those who accept to work hard for them. Everyone else can come here only when invited and can only stay as long as the muses deem it appropriate.»

But I was barely paying attention to what my friends were saying because I was immersed in the wonderful music of that place!

With every step I took, I discovered a new work of art hidden in the landscape. Every plant, every tree, and every flower was in the right place and had the perfect shape and the exact color, making the landscape look like a painted picture. Even the smallest stone was sculpted or colored, and each twig was a figure or a carved utensil with intricate designs!

Everything there was art and poetry, and I wished I had my violin to join the invisible orchestra. If only I could write those beautiful melodies that came to mind so that I could play them on my violin one day!

«Don’t worry about it! If you persist with your music studies, I promise I will make you listen to these and many other melodies,» a sweet voice whispered.

I looked around in surprise, trying to discover who it was, but I couldn’t see anyone. Then Destrouch looked at Hope with a mischievous smile and said:

«It seems that a muse has spoken to our friend!»

«It is not surprising. He plays the violin and the muses may have been visiting his nest for quite a while now.» Answered the fairy.

I looked at them intrigued and tried to explain that a voice was talking in my head but it wasn’t part of my thoughts. I was sure of that! They laughed out loud at my bewilderment, and Destrouch explained that the voice I had heard was one of the muses of that spring: «You don’t see her simply because the muses usually remain invisible, except for rare opportunities when they reveal themselves to the eyes of a privileged few.»

«Who are these muses you’re talking about?» I asked them. Although the name was familiar, I needed to find out what they were.

«The muses are nine very wise and talented sisters,» explained Miss Hope, an expert in lecturing on these topics that were so mysterious to me. «They help the bugs with artistic talent to get nightingale, parrot, swan, flamingo, and other birds’ feathers to excel in the arts. Although the muses are not interested in painting, sculpture, or crafts, not far from here live other beings who work with wood, stones, metals, and colors. You’ll meet them soon!» She assured me.

«The one who just spoke to you mentally must have been Terpsichore, the guitarist. She is the muse that inspires those who play string instruments,» said Destrouch.

I wanted to see the muse, and while I thought about this, the voice spoke again in my mind:

«We muses are not meant to be contemplated by mortals but to be heard by the

minds of some of you. If we let ourselves be seen, it is possible that you no longer pay attention to what we try to transmit. Dazzled by our beauty, you would probably be unable to concentrate your restless minds on anything else,» she said.

«Okay, I won’t insist on that any further! But would you please let me listen to that beautiful music for a few more minutes?» I asked.

«Okay, just as long as you continue walking by the spring.» Terpsichore agreed.

I immediately started listening to that magnificent symphony again, while skirting the zigzagging course of the waters, preceded by Hope and Destrouch hovering

dancefully behind me.

The music faded as we entered the depths of the forest again, and little by little it was replaced by a growing rumor of forges, hammers, chisels, saws, and sandpaper. And in a 

a very different way from that of the muses’ melodious orchestra, these sounds also created another type of music, much more rhythmic and vital.