Als Lehrer/in registrieren
Unknown Story
Storyboard-Text
- I know that in a town full of magic, no one would certainly believe a young boy who could only make things—small things—fly.
- No one thought that it could happen. But there finally came a day when there was no more magic in the village of Daguet.
- The change came in a crawl of silence, and also darkness. No one knew exactly when it began. It must have started the day the sun refused to wake from its blanket of blue waters to the east. Or it must have been the night the moon refused to talk to the stars. Or perhaps it was that morning when the cocks did not bother to crow a welcome chorus to the beginning light, or perhaps that evening when the night breeze took to bed in a deep sleep and nothing stirred all night, not even the frogs or the crickets that used to lull the village into slumber with their constant music. Or it must have been the moment the light faded away from the cluster of trees the village fireflies danced in.
- I do not believe in magic anymore.
- Only Kulas knew, but he was only a boy, and all he could do for magic was to make things—small things—fly about him. The other people in the village of Daguet had so much more magic than him. Some could still typhoons with the purity of their songs. Some could control the waxing and waning of the moon with poetry. Others could speak in the language of the old forest spirits, and still others could make delicacies—cakes and pastries made from old and secret recipes—that conjured up long-lost memories of love, and sometimes even hate.
- If the people of the village where only a bit more aware of the slight sniff of the changing air, they could have divined the many small moments which could be said to have sparked magic’s unexpected retreat from Daguet, but no one knew. There were, of course, the lazy sun, and the sad moon, and the unlit fireflies, and the muted songs of nocturnal musicians.
- Perhaps it could have even begun the moment when Pedrito, Kulas’ older brother, whispered carelessly to a stray wind, “I do not believe in magic anymore.”
- You must understand, this was not a solitary, uncommon wish. There were already many people in Daguet—conscious of the practical changes sweeping the nearby villages and islands—who thought of magic as a relic from the old days, the gift of ancient babaylans who were no more than shadows of primordial tales. Perhaps they thought that they could do something more than magic.
Mehr als 40 Millionen Storyboards erstellt
Keine Downloads, Keine Kreditkarte und Kein Login zum Ausprobieren Erforderlich!
