There was once a boy living in a village hidden between foggy mountains and a beautiful lake called Luca. In spite of the lack of instruments since his family was poor, Luca was a child who had a passion for music. While sitting in the center of the village, he became so engrossed in the concert that he imagined being one of the violinists, leading his fingers over the strings instead of the bow.
On an October night, while it was getting cold, Luca took a walk in the woods near his house and came across an old, rundown cabin. The door creaked as it opened to reveal a very dusty area filled with artifacts buried beneath layers of dust. In one corner, only partly visible under a tattered blanket, there was a dusty old violin. It seemed very old but well preserved, and the wood looked a little shiny under the weak light.
Luca picked it and carefully touched the string with great expectation . To his astonishment, the instrument was a bit warm as though it had two emotions. Before he even realized what he was doing, he plucked the string producing precisely one sound and the tune wrapped around him literally with a magic touch. The leaves outside seemed restless as if they were chatting in hushed tones and even the lake beyond the trees began to quietly quiver.
but Luca was eager to give it life and played some tune that was most familiar in the village.
There was something about the easing of the bow over the strings of the violin that changed the man’s surroundings: upon him the world came alive. Flowers opened under the light of the moon and even creatures that had been asleep crept forth, after the sound. The piece did not just happen to be a violin – it was a magic one.
After that night, every night Luca would go to the forest to play the violin. The denizens of the woods became his listeners and even the stars who lived in the skies played twinkie winks in time to his music. One such night, when he was playing, there came to the glade where he was an old, silver bearded man.
“That violin took a liking to you,” the man’s words were soft, but his eyes were full of kindness and some other emotions Luca could not understand. “This was in the hands of a decent man, a musician who once adored this violin and used its magic responsibly to bring joy to people. But great power and magic comes with great burden.”
Luca felt an icy shiver on the bone. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly and carefully, aware of growing and gnawing fear.
“It is a magical implement for it can cast spells through the music it plays. It cannot be used in any selfish way whatsoever. If you do so with an unselfish heart, the light in you will bring forth light to the world. But should your hand be guided for whatever reason by the thought of greed or anger, the opposite will happen; the magic will turn inside out.”
Luca swore that he would not play the violin fe Olim for the benefit of his listeners only.
Thus, every night, he played music for the village and raised the atmosphere of everyone’s spirits. There was no village in the whole wide world that did not know about the boy and his magical violin, which, the stories said, could cure the sick, create lyons amidst the turbulent clouds, and blossom the most radiant of flowers even in the middle of winter.
Yet, respect that shape persuasi he understood as the shape of love portrayed the power of the violin itself. Out of all the words spoken by the old man thus such fear made certain that it did not give itself away for it belongs only to one who is devoted to the violin and not to the instrument itself.
