gates of dawn chapter 1
As the stage was lit up, the elegant and elegant cast danced and sang in front of him. His eyes sparkle and sparkle; so full of life and love for the adventures they knew in their young hearts that awaited them. They twirled and clapped to the music that had always played for them, a soundtrack to their lives. The ‘blood of life’, which so many in the tight-knit town called the ‘heart of life’ with such pride that every time it was uttered, beer mugs were banged together followed by loud laughter and much joy.
Yes, in fact, the music was what kept this place going. Surrounded by a meadow of mountains and bordered by thick green forest to the east that crept into a long stream that ran down the mountain and eventually flowed into a freshwater lake. The small community was a postcard from a distant land that only the island of Zyrah in the Pacific could offer. Each of the log houses in the village had a small wood-burning stove that burned long into the night, fuming in the cool night, then slowly disappearing into the star-filled sky. The streets were all lit by lamplight just before the sun shone for the last time before retiring for the day. The boy who reads the lamps was known and loved, like a son to all. He laughed and smiled as the dogs playfully chased after him as he went from lamp to lamp and street to street. At the end of the day and ushering in the night, the children played, and with the nights of the full moon they played a little harder and a little more. Their parents just smiled at them silently as the dogs barked at the moon. Perhaps the parents were envious of the children, longing for their youth that had slowly slipped away? Or perhaps the dominating presence of the full moon brought about feelings that the ancients did not fully understand? Whatever it was, full moons were always nights celebrated in the small farming and logging town of Houtenwoud.
The music swam throughout the town, touching the people in many ways, throughout the year. While the beautiful women of the town danced on warm summer evenings, the working men roamed the land and brought home food for themselves, their families and all the townspeople. But when the sun went down and the day was done, the dancers devoted their energy to cooking for their friends and family in town, while the young talent provided them with background music. It was quite common for the roles to be reversed, with the musicians cooking and the women picking up the guitars to play.
Much of the town cultivated self-expression, in whatever form it took, whether cooking creative meals or hitting the high notes of a soulful ballad. A beautiful creative machine, which never ends and never wants to end. The melodies bounced off the mountains and into the sky, into the heavens. “The gods love music to children” was one of the first things children were taught in school. All the children in the village learned to play an instrument when they were little. Much of the education was based on it, along with other kinds of creative and emotional development. The school was somewhat divided at the beginning, in the sense that a little more than half of the teachers focused on developing more rigid and logical courses, where the other tutors explored music and creativity. Music has kept this small town alive since the first house was built more than four hundred years ago, but only in the last year has it become a part of the educational system.
From that day on, all kinds of different musical instruments and types of music came to the village. Flutes, guitars, mandolins, drums, banjos, trumpets, basses, bells and many others with all the various types of music they were able to create. Each new instrument brought with it a different feel, a new rhythm, a new personality, which added to the harmony and life of Houtenwoud. He brought the people together and kept the town close…