The Magic of Love
By Lana Nizhehorodova
Peter has never liked his name. It always seemed to him that it was an ordinary name, just emphasizing his own ordinariness. Like most of his kind, he had grey feathers all over his body and a bright orange chest. And although, like most nightingales, he had a very beautiful voice, Peter never saw any value in it. He liked to sing for himself but was too shy to sing to someone else and always thought of oneself as a bird similar to others and not extraordinary in anything. This made his life rather dull and unhappy.
Most of his days Peter watched other birds, who had lush feathers and beautiful tails, birds with colorful bodies and long beaks. He always thought of them as special creatures, those who were made to be superior birds, not like him. Peter himself spent his free time hiding inside the abandoned forester’s hut, singing quietly so that no one would hear him. He never thought that something in his life could change; why would it change for such a small bird who had nothing special about himself? But it did.
One sunny summer morning, when Peter was singing his favorite song in the forester’s hut, the door opened, and a girl entered the room. She was about sixteen or seventeen years old, with hair as orange as feathers on Peter’s chest. She put down her basket, looked around the room, and said:
“Who is singing here? The sound is so beautiful.”
Peter did not answer. He got so scared of the girl’s intrusion that he quickly hid inside the old cupboard and held his breath. And when he was quietly waiting until the girl would leave, he heard her say:
“Please, come out of there, pretty bird. Never in my life have I heard such beautiful music. Please, sing just one more time.”
When he heard the girl asking him to sing, Peter got more scared, but he was also very flattered. You see, Peter did not have any friends, and no one had ever told him that his singing was beautiful. When she praised him, the girl's sincere compliment made Peter’s little heart melt right away. He sat in the cupboard for a few more moments, thinking about whether he should take a risk and show himself to this kind stranger. And then he heard her say:
“If you come out, I will give you some delicious berries that I found today. They are very tasty, big, ripe strawberries.”
Oh, strawberries… they are my favorite berries, Peter thought. Maybe I can sing for her; she seems really nice. He lingered for another moment and then opened the cupboard door slightly. The girl smiled as she saw him and said:
“Strawberries are my favorite berries; how about you?”
“Mine too,” Peter answered. “I am Peter, a nightingale,” he said, and flew to the corner of the hut.
“I am Ann,” the girl answered, and she gave Peter a beautiful smile.
“Which song do you want to hear, Ann?” The nightingale asked cautiously.
“I loved the one you were singing before. It seemed so familiar to me,” Ann said as she sat down on the bench next to the door.
Peter got on the top of the old wardrobe, opened his beak, and started singing. It was his favorite song, after all, and he loved the sound of it. But he had never sung it for anyone else before, and he felt shy as the girl was listening to him. He had thought that his voice was not beautiful at all, and he himself was too ordinary of a bird to make friends with this nice girl. He thought that there were birds in these woods who were much more beautiful than he was and who could certainly sing much louder and in a more sophisticated way. But, to Peter's surprise, as he finished his song, Ann stood up from the bench and exclaimed excitedly:
“How beautiful you sing! You must truly have a gift. Now it is going to be my favorite song, after I heard you sing it in such a lovely way.” And then she added quietly, “But I will not bother you anymore. Thank you for singing to me, and I really hope to see you another time.”
She put the strawberries on the table and was about to leave when Peter suddenly said:
“Maybe you want to hear another song?”
After all, it was not so scary to sing to her. And it was so nice to hear her praise him, and so nice of her to give him a whole basket of strawberries, that Peter finally decided to let his guard down.
That day, Ann agreed to listen to him sing again and again, song after song, and before long, the day turned into evening, and it was time for the new friends to say goodbye. Ann promised to come again soon, though. She said she would bring some more strawberries when she returned.
And she did keep her promise. From that day on, Ann would come to see Peter almost every day. Usually, she would bring a big basket of ripe berries with her. Every time she visited him, she would listen to Peter sing, and they would talk a little, and the more they got to know each other, the fonder they became of each other. Ann was the daughter of the new forester, who lived on the other side of the wood. She said she loved music, and she played the piano herself. Once, she even sang for Peter some of her favorite songs. They had a good time in each other’s company, and soon, Peter started to expect Ann’s visits. And it was not because of her nice gifts, although he did like them, but mostly because of the kind words Ann said to him, the compliments that she paid him so generously and often.
As time passed, Peter started feeling much happier. He spent a lot of time with Ann – singing, talking, and having fun. He finally made a friend – something he had never had before. His mood brightened up; life seemed good, and he almost forgot the way he thought about himself before, but then, one day, he was suddenly reminded of the beautiful birds again.
It was an August morning, and Peter was, as always, expecting Ann with her usual visit. He was practicing a new song that he wanted to sing for her when the door opened and his friend entered quickly. She looked excited and was holding something colorful in her hand. As Peter looked more carefully, he recognized the pattern of a peacock feather.
“Look what I just found. Isn’t it beautiful? Such a sophisticated design,” Ann said, and Peter could immediately feel a lump in his throat. A peacock’s feather. Of course, it was much more beautiful than his own gray feathers were. How could they possibly be compared? A peacock was a graceful bird, not like himself. And Ann was so excited to have found this feather. Now she probably would not want to hang out with him ever again. He turned away from Ann and hid in the cupboard. He did not want her to see him cry.
Ann tried to talk to him, tried to offer him strawberries, and to sing for him, but Peter did not come out. She did not understand why her friend was behaving like this and got very upset. But finally, there was not anything she could do. All that was left for her was to leave.
“I should have believed my dad when he told me a peacock’s feather was a bad symbol. Since I found it, you do not want to talk to me, and I do not even know why,” she said sadly, and she went out of the door.
Peter was left alone in the room. He came out of the cupboard and tried to sing to himself, but tears were streaming down his face, and his voice just would not obey him. Before long, he realized that he was missing Ann greatly. Now that he did not know when she would come back again, he regretted acting the way he did with her. Peter thought about what had happened that day and understood that he must have been very wrong. He decided he would fly to the other side of the wood to find her the next morning and went to sleep.
But as the morning came and Peter reached the house that had to be Ann’s, he did not notice her anywhere near. He flew next to the window of the hut and started to sing their favorite song. He thought it would make her come out, but she did not appear. Then, suddenly, Peter noticed someone lying on the bed in the middle of the room. It was a red-haired girl, and he quickly recognized Ann’s face as she looked at him through the window.
“I am not feeling very well, my friend,” she managed to say and put her head back on the pillow. “The peacock’s feather turned out to be a truly bad sign.”
Ann got ill suddenly and very quickly. One day she was alright, and the next – she got a terrible fever and could barely talk. Her parents were trying to take care of her, and the doctor came and went away, but she did not get better.
As for Peter, he was grieving greatly because of the illness of his dearest friend, but he did not leave her alone. Every morning, he flew to Ann’s hut and sang to his friend her favorite songs. Sometimes she said a few words to him and thanked him; other times she just smiled weakly and hid in the blanket.
A month went by, but Ann was not feeling better. Peter would fly to her house every day and would try to sing the nicest songs to her; he would bring her strawberries in his beak, but as time passed, Ann did not recover all the same.
One morning, when Peter reached Ann’s house, he sat under the tree and thought about which song he would sing for her on that day. And then he remembered the first time they met – how she was so caring and kind with him, how she praised him and helped him believe in himself. Now it was she who needed his help. He could not do much, but he could sing the song that she loved so strongly – the very first song he ever sang to her. He opened his mouth and started singing, not shyly, but with passion he never sang with before. As he sang, he thought of Ann, how beautiful her soul was, that she only saw beauty around her, how much love there was inside of her, that with her words of encouragement, she even made him love his own voice and forget his timidity. He finished the song and felt tears stream down his beak, for he did not know if he would ever have a chance to talk with his friend again.
Then, suddenly, he saw someone looking at him from a nearby tree. He looked carefully and noticed long green hair and emerald wings, and he knew immediately that what he saw was very rarely to be seen in these woods. In front of him on the branch of a huge oak there sat a forest fairy. She must have heard his song and stopped to listen. She smiled sadly as she looked at the nearby house and at Peter’s teary face and said:
“Your voice is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in my life, nightingale. But what is more important, I hear that there is love inside of you. Love for your friend. And I will help you. Both of you.”
Before Peter could answer, the fairy waved her wings and flew to Ann’s window. She tore a piece from the leaves in her hair, blew it at Ann, and softly whispered a spell. Then she smiled at Peter and said:
“Stay true to yourself, nightingale.”
The next moment she was not there anymore. Was it a dream? No, Peter knew for sure that it was not. He did see the forest fairy, and one could only see her once in a lifetime; she praised his voice, but what was more important, she also praised him – for giving love back to the one who loved him. And suddenly, Peter felt that he knew it himself, that he was a good bird – that he could not only sing beautifully but also be a good friend.
So why on Earth did he care about the feathers of other birds? It was so silly to do that. Peter suddenly realized that there was no sense in comparing himself to any other birds ever again in his life. What was truly important was what the fairy told him. It was staying true to himself.
“Peter!” The girl’s voice called, and he immediately recognized Ann’s red hair in the window. She was standing by the bed looking at him with a happy smile on her face.
“I am feeling so much better,” she said, and she added: “Shall we sing together?”
Peter began singing their favorite song, and Ann joined in.
Lana Nizhehorodova was born and lives in Odessa, Ukraine. She loves reading and writing stories. Her fiction appeared or is forthcoming in Variety Pack, The Temz Review, 100-Foot Crow, as well as anthologies by Dragon Soul Press and Jersey Pines Ink.
Very good. :)