“Want to see the stars align?”

The father draws a string connecting the dispersed white ticks making the black glow blue. And in one motion, one pull of the string, a tiny ~thun~ vibrated and straightened all the stars to create a line of bright pearls - and he hangs the new necklace around his daughter’s neck.

“Wow! It’s so pretty! How did you do that?”

“It’s just a simple trick, you could do it too one day, you just need a passion for whatever it is you want to make. And girl, always remember to say thank you, ok?”

“Oh right, sorry. Thank you so much!” She said caressing the smooth lights warming her collar bone. “What can I make one day though? What will I have a passion for?”

The father stood and walked to his bench, grabbing a hollow frame with a long neck divided into frets, “Whatever you want. One day you’ll find yourself loving to do something with your hands, and your head will tell you how to do so, and your eyes will show you where to twist, where to tighten, where to carve, and where to pluck.” He turns to her holding an oaken guitar with palm leaves etched onto its face, and he hands it to her.

Her eyes became wide - as vibrant as her necklace - and her mouth had a slight surprise to it, “I think I want to sing.” She fingers one of the strings and it hums like a choir, with a slight crackle of fire underneath its voice - she matches the pitch with a tiny gasp. She plucks, and she strums, and she begins to sing.

~Doll, go sleep with tiny dreams,

In deep pillows a bean will whistle,

To wake the morn’ with coffee and cream,

And water the reeds to sing with thistles~

“Very beautiful Calliope.”