Passion

 Chapter Seven – Into the Forest The next day at school, I could no longer keep the secret. The dream still burned inside me, and the whispers had not stopped echoing in my mind. At last, when we were alone under the cashew tree, I turned to Annie. “Annie,” I whispered, clutching my bag tightly. “I need to tell you something… something strange.” I pulled out the blue, golden-swirled book. Annie’s eyes widened. “Where did you get this?” “In the library,” I replied. “It’s called The Echoes of the Singing Flute. Annie… I read it, and when I played the notes inside, I heard voices. That night, I dreamed of the stream — glowing like silver — and the forest beyond it.” Annie’s face paled. “Lyra, that sounds scary. Are you sure it was just a dream?” I shook my head. “It felt too real. And the voices keep calling me to the stream.” That afternoon, instead of going home, we walked together toward the stream on the edge of the village. The closer we got, the heavier our steps became. When we...

 Chapter Six – The Hidden Book. A week after the competition, I slipped into the school library during lunch break. The library was quiet, carrying that faint smell of old paper and polished wood. I wandered through the shelves, letting my fingers trail over the spines of books I had seen a hundred times before. But then… something strange caught my eye. Down at the lowest corner of the last shelf, behind a pile of dusty history textbooks, I noticed a thin leather-bound book. Its cover was deep blue, with golden swirls that shimmered faintly under the light. My heart skipped as I brushed away the dust, and the letters on the cover seemed to glow: “The Echoes of the Singing Flute.” I froze. Those same words had often danced in my mind whenever I played. With trembling hands, I opened it. The pages were filled with drawings of flutes, strange symbols, and stories about musicians who could heal wounds, calm storms, or even give people courage — all through the power of sound. The deep...

 Chapter Five – The Song of My Flute The school courtyard was full of noise and color that morning. Drums pounded, dancers spun in bright wrappers, and singers shouted with all their strength. Parents, teachers, and students filled the seats, clapping and cheering for their favorites. I stood behind the stage, holding my flute so tight my palms were sweaty. My heart was beating so loud I was sure everyone could hear it. Annie touched my arm gently. “You’ve practiced for this, Lyra,” she whispered. “Remember — the flute will speak for you.” When the announcer called my name, my legs felt weak. I stepped out, and the crowd began to whisper. “The flute girl? She really joined?” “She’ll embarrass herself.” The words stabbed me, but I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I lifted the flute to my lips and blew the first note. It came out soft, like the sigh of the morning breeze. Then it grew, smooth and steady, flowing like a small river. Slowly, the noise of the crowd faded. The cour...