Gabriel And The Magical Horn

(A mythical tale of tales)

Gabriel was a lad of seven years young, who one day, found a magical horn within the magical valley, near where the crystal-pure waters flow up & down stream, . . where the magical mountains pierce the blue silkened skies--and where the beautiful Angels sing softly in the evening time, amid the dawning of creation.

It was supposed that long ago, when time was not kept for any reason, that the magical horn was misplaced by the Unicorn trainer, or by the Captain of the Guardian Angels himself, however, no one really knew for sure, . . which is to say, they did not inform--not even me.

Gabriel reached down into the crack in the world where the horn was found, and retrieved it with his good hand, . . when unseen waves of unheard sounds rushed around his surprised face, as he then felt the magical music that was never heard before--within his joyous mind.

And Gabriel blew with all of his breath and with all of his might into the magical horn, all the way home to the village: through the pathways and the by-ways and over the rocky trails within the magical valley. But the only sound that came out of the magical horn, was the awful sound of noise that caused the birds to fly away and caused the animals to hide all around . . . And it made the Unicorns begin to cry.

The people of the village were horrified by Gabriel's noisy horn, despite his endeavor, so they all met in secret with the Chief Magician to complain and to seek out a rather speedy solution, when he too, was very much quite willing to cast a certain spell that would prevent Gabriel from blowing that magical horn that made that awful noise.

So, the Chief Magician prepared a chant and made the people of the village chant that chant, because that chant, was the only chant, that could take the noise from Gabriel's horn, which was the chanted-chant-of-chants.

That chant was magically powerful, as it was sadly learned, . . that that chant echoed too loudly--and it took all of the music away from everything: for all time--and to everywhere that was forever there.

continued . . .

The birds no longer sang their bird songs. The Angels moved their mouths without a sound upon their lips. Then countless tears filled their tender hearts and flowed from their crystal-crying-eyes that pooled to the ground, into the shallow brook. And the whistle was then stolen from the wind.

Gabriel was sadder than sad and without true purpose, as the magical horn became tarnished and beaten by the unsung-bitter-wind and by the ears that could no longer hear, . . when the word "lonesome" was invented by the shoemaker's son, who was secretly in love with a pretty Angel who wept and who could no longer--sing a single thing.

So, the world cracked open once again one day in the magical valley, near the golden brook that was filled to the shore with Angel tears . . . Where dreams were dreamed and where wishes all were wished--and Gabriel sat there on the thinking stone with his horn still within his good hand, when a wave of swirling sounds moved gently over and across his lame hand, as he then reached with it, and raised up the magical horn.

He began to play perfect tones that had never been heard of before, as his lame hand, became a good hand: just the same.

Suddenly, the birds began to sing their bird songs when the Angels began to sing again--and the little children laughed and played in harmonic harmony with the singing wind . . .When Gabriel played his magical horn within the magical valley, where music was born of that horn, that the chanted-chant-of-chants had all but taken away.

And to this very day, way far away, where the crystal-pure waters flow up & down stream--and where the magical mountains pierce the blue, silkened skies . . . Where the beautiful Angels sing of things yet to come for everyone--the people of the village gather together in the days and say, "Gabriel, . . come blow your horn . . ."

In the land beyond schemes and other greedy things--where the sunbeams kiss the silkened skies--where the Unicorns now, do freely roam . . .

In the valley of, . . the Golden Horn . . . .

~ For the children--of all ages ~

(c) 1991 by Jason Leigh

 

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