C-And a fairy tale (Chapter 3)

3



There once was a violinist made of snow. He fell in love with the sun,
and every morning he would get up and play to her. He had written a
piece for her, but as he was nearing the end, he saw that his right arm
was beginning to melt, and he had to stop playing and hide in the
shade.
"My violinist, why won't you play for me" said the sun. He does not
care about me at all she thought. Perhaps he gets bored.
"Tomorrow" he said. It's always tomorrow she thought.
Every morning he would begin to play. And just as the piece neared the
end, the violin stopped.
"Why won't you play it all for me, just once?"
The next morning, he got up. He looked at the sun on the snow all
around him. He concentrated, and breathed in, and put his bow on the
violin.
As he played, the sun rose higher in the sky. It was later than he
thought.
"Don't stop" said the sun. The violinist shut his eyes, he did not dare
to look. He played to the end of the piece.
"It is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard," she said, and she
looked down, and saw the violin lying in the snow.