The Rainbow Bridge and the Shadow of the Serpent: The Rainbow Bridge and the Shadow of the Serpent

by Sergio Pereira

  They were welcomed with honours and invited to sit down. Many shows, recitals, presentations and concerts would take place on that festive, gala night. The night that would always be remembered as the Consecration of the Seven Moons. The Kingdom had been saved. The Forces of Oppressive Music had suffered their worst defeat in the last eight centuries. Even so, the Fairy Queen of Occidental Music knew that it was only a matter of time before they reorganised. After all, the challenges of good never cease.

  The only drink served was arum lily milk. However, each one savoured it according to their best affective and taste memories. Twenty gypsy dancers came into the room. Music filled the air. Then it was the turn of another ten dance companies brought by the Fairy Princesses to perform.

  Time itself refused to pass because it wanted to watch for itself, forever, such beautiful spectacles. Eternal moments came one after the other and more and more love in the form of drops of light from the tears shed by those present reached the skies and went on to distant Kingdoms, as a fount of inspiration.

  This was one of the moments that the Fairy Queen most loved about her mission.

  When the presentation in which the Celtic dancers left everyone stunned with their grace was over, the Fairy Queen looked at the Maestro.

  - She is your pupil. Conduct her.

  He smiled and nodded. Violet trembled. A wonderful grand piano was pushed near.

  - Come.

  She just shook her head. Playing at the Castle of Music in front of the Fairy Queen and the other Fairies and personalities was too much for her. It was an honour she didn’t deserve, competence she didn’t possess, ambition she had no desire for.

  The Maestro smiled once more and pointed towards the piano. Violet went as cold as ice. Then she froze.

  The Maestro walked over to her and took her by the hand. Warmth started to circulate through her veins. She felt great paternal affection. Even so, she still turned to the Fairy Queen.

  - I don’t know if I should.

  - Dear apprentice! After all you have proved to be and how you can grow, we really desire your progress. We love you. We are grateful. And we pray that you do not get side-tracked on easy paths. Who could be better than you to play now at this festive occasion?

  But for the friendly hand of the Maestro holding her, she would have exploded with happiness, but she would also have frozen. She went over to the piano and settled on the stool. She raised her eyes towards the Maestro. She whispered:

  - In front of this audience I’m nothing.

  - Your commitment must always be with music and not with the audience. Do the best you can and you will always be the best for the audience.

  - What do you mean?

  - Love the audience, but above all love music more than anything. Only this way will you do your best and give the best of music for all audiences.

  - Is some magic score going to appear?

  - Not this time, my friend. You will have the inspiration of inspirations. Release your heart and hands.

  - Will you do me the honour?

  Stefanie could not believe the beauty and elegance of the young male dancer before her.

  - You didn’t think your friend would perform alone, did you?

  - But we haven’t rehearsed anything.

  - When you have the inspiration we will have, rehearsals are not necessary.

  Placing her left hand on the right hand of the male dancer, Stefanie walked gracefully and elegantly to the centre of the stage, near the piano. The lights went out. Just two large bluish pools produced by the spotlights illuminated the pianist, piano, ballerina and male dancer.

  Not knowing how to begin, Violet closed eyes and let her emotions fly. A wonderful Fairy was also concentrating. Her body shimmered slightly. A small shower of violet petals fell over Violet, then, in addition to the petals, she felt that a refreshing, perfumed dew was enveloping her with each touch of each petal. The Fairy Queen of Occidental Music had decided that, at that moment, she would be Violet’s inspiring muse.

  The pianist’s fingers touched the ivory and ebony keys. The melody that was composed would never again be played. But this had not the least importance, because, inspired by the Fairy Queen, it was sublime!

  Stefanie was dancing gracefully and with unique lightness. Her movements were materialized without her knowing, like the divine music created by her friend.

  Dancing to perfection with her partner, even without rehearsal, she was carried and launched into the air several times. Enchanted, she found she could fall in love with him. When Violet’s music became livelier and quicker, he said to her:

  - Now it’s your solo. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, one day we will dance again.

  He stepped away, smiling. The music replaced his sudden absence. Stefanie gave herself body and soul to her art. Violet also. Minutes followed and, the fine spectacle ended with an apotheosis.

  - Bravo! Bravissimo!

  The joy of the two was infinite. Their gazes met. There was no need for words. They would be incomplete and imprecise. Their minds and souls were one. More than best friends, they were now sisters of ideas.

  - Bravo! Bravissimo!

  The sounds of the applause and shouts were becoming more distant and less audible to Stefanie’s ears. The strong, clear light falling on Violet disappeared and when Stefanie realized it, she was lying on the carpet in her room in New York.

  - Bravissimo.

  This was the last sound she heard and, this time, it was very low. She looked around and recognised the familiar environment. Startled, she stood up at once. She looked for Violet but couldn’t find her. She let out a deep sigh. She laughed. Then she cried. But she was not crying from sadness. When her tears were really going to begin to be sad, she saw a small chain with an equally small pendant lying on the floor, right in front of the mirror. It was a tuning fork, bearer of unique magic. As soon as she picked it up, it vibrated. Her soul became radiant once more. She was definitively cured of any depression.

  She sat on the bed and began to recall her adventure. She knew it had been real and that she would never be able to tell anyone. The first thing that came to her mind was a strong desire to study ballet intensively and be a prima ballerina. The second was something she said to herself:

  - When I have a daughter, while she’s still little, I’ll tell her.

  In the Kingdom of the Seven Moons, a Fairy called the Fairy Queen of Dance, whom Stefanie did not know personally, was blessing her career or mission. The rest depended only on her.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  THE BEACH BEFORE THE NOW

  - Bravo! Bravissmo! Bravo!

  The sound of a strong wave crashing muffled and supplanted the shouts and applause that became distant in space, but very close in emotion. She was immediately aware of the pleasant warmth and the peculiar feel of coarse sand on bare feet.

  The sea breeze ruffled her hair. Where could her party shoes be? They were probably still by the pedals of the grand piano in the hall at the Castle of Occidental Music. She had a mania for playing barefoot. She almost always left a sandal or sneaker at the piano at home. This time had been no different.

  She was not alarmed by the sudden change of environment. Accustomed as she was to journeys through the shortcuts of worlds, although she had no desire to leave, she found it normal. She knew she could not return, but rather had to go forward. So, she kissed the air, using all the love and affection she possessed. She asked the wind to take the kiss to everyone in the Castle. She gave another, and again asked the wind to take it to Stefanie. When she gave the third and final one, so as not to push her luck with the wind, she addressed it to her parents.

  Then she decided to walk. The place where she was reminded her greatly of The Beach After the Now. However, this beach excelled it. It was even more beautiful. More than any beach she had ever seen. Lots of white crabs were running sideways, seeing themselves threatened. At both high and low tide, they reigned without a kingdom. The vegetation at t
he water’s edge was resistant to salt, wind and the strong waves that often went beyond the limits of the sand.

  Violet turned her face to the left, thereby looking northwards. The beach formed a great curve, stretching almost out of sight. Three hundred metres away, pink cliffs appeared timidly, no bigger than an adult human. They grew gradually as they progressed to the north. They finally reached a height of up to eighty metres. A green flower adorned the cliff tops. On their vertical walls of purple and pink earth, long stalks, like vegetable hair loose in the sea wind, gave a green contrast and the idea that life establishes itself almost everywhere. The same wind from the sea that constantly whispers in every ear also ran through the cracks carved out by small rivulets. Actually, their waters were parts of great rivers that decided to run faster to the sea.

  When she looked to the right, she noticed that the scenario was different. More or less two kilometres ahead, the continent rose no more than a few metres above sea level. After this, the beach ended at a hill that looked like the back of a beached whale. It was bare, black rock. A second hill lay behind and reached three hundred metres in height. It was covered in vegetation similar to the Atlantic Forest. Behind the two, a third rose impressively, for two hundred metres separated the beginning of the rock wall immersed in the sea from the top.

  On the powerful rocks of the two hills and the mountain, still more powerful waves crashed in improvisations of passion and jealousy. Rocks and sea have always loved each other and often form a couple in eternal litigation.

  The turquoise blue sea and the foaming waves composed a hydrodynamic water-colour in eternal movement. Blinding white foam created effervescent bubbles when the crests of waves battered the walls of windy gusts.

  Although she didn’t know it, that beach had a name, the Beach Before the Now. It was the wildest, and at the same time, the most pleasant environment she’d ever seen. Although she felt more attracted to the South, she couldn’t decide which side to follow. So, she took in the landscape, savouring the strong wind smoothing her face. Her hair was full of curls. Even they gradually became salty from the sea spray.

  She looked at the sea. As the beach wasn’t steep, the depth of the water increased slowly. But, because of the reefs and a huge sandbank running parallel to the coast, two surf lines formed. The most distant was more or less three hundred metres from the coastline. From this to the second one, waves of up to three metres broke to the left, forming perfect tubes. It would be a paradise for surfers, if surfers were to discover it one day.

  When they reached the second break line, one hundred metres from the beach, the waves swelled. Soon afterwards, and now with not so much energy, they broke again. Then they came towards the beach, losing size and strength until their white foam licked the sand.

  - How lovely it would be to get into that sea!

  She uttered this so that no one, except herself, would hear. She looked to both sides. Everywhere was deserted, as it had been seconds before. She took off her dress. In only her underwear, she ran ahead.

  The sea embraced her, as she embraced it. The girl’s skin and the water suited each other. The Sun itself appeared, with its rays, also wanting to join in the game. Some flying fish passed in front of her. Except for the crabs, these were the only living beings she could see.

  Violet jumped and gave a lot of back flips in the water. It didn’t matter whether she was a child or an adolescent. Age didn’t exist for the sea.

  She decided to duck dive and without realising it, went deeper and deeper. When she noticed, she was already in water above her navel. When the first wave appeared, she threw herself towards its movement to bodysurf it. She remembered that in Brazil, bodysurfing is called pegar jacaré[3].

  It was wonderful! The strength of the wave was intense. Violet, with her arms stretched out in front of her as if she were a surfboard, almost reached the beach. She scraped her knees on the sand. Dragged by the power of the waters, she lost her balance and rolled to the side twice. She got up quickly. She laughed. Running, she returned to the deep.

  She waited for another suitable wave. She repeated the game, but this time much more skilfully. She went deeper down. She abandoned all caution. She went far out. Only when the water reached her neck did she realise how reckless she was being. She was alone in the sea, on an unknown beach, and very far from the sand. She realised the obvious. She was nothing in the face of the strength of the waters. She gave a sudden worried frown. At once, taking advantage of the movements of the small breaking waves, she went back. - Gosh!

  Nothing can be so sudden as the sea. Not even lightning bolts are as surprising and fearful as the sea, when it wants to be imposing and sovereign. A strong current formed from nothing. Getting back to the beach seemed impossible. Even so, she was not afraid. She looked back and saw a beautiful but threatening wave of more than two metres forming. The crashing of the waves was like roar of a lion. Because of the strong and sudden current created by the wave that seemed to swallow everything as it grew, the water went down to waist level. The wave reached two and a half metres.

  In less than two tenths of a second she decided to try to duck dive or surf it. She opted for surfing it. She wasn’t afraid, but adrenalin flooded her heart.

  - Yee-haw!

  At the same time, she remembered when she used to duck dive or have fun body surfing with her father. She followed his advice. She wasn’t afraid. She took in as much air as she could in the shortest possible time. She positioned herself. She propelled her body forward towards the wave. One last, quick breath.

  There was no time for anything else. The mass of water was kind, but very energetic with her. At first, Violet was lifted up high. She went up with the formation. It was the last time she saw that beach. She went up so fast, so fast that she was swallowed by the turbulent waters. She was taken and shaken like chocolate milk or a milkshake in a liquidiser.

  Turbulence and acceleration were her first sensations. Emotion and joy soon followed. Then she felt the lack of air. She couldn’t disentangle herself or emerge from that force. With her eyes open, all she could see was the tumult of bubbles and more bubbles. Her chest hurt. She gulped without opening her mouth. The level of oxygen in her brain and in her circulation was going down while that of carbon dioxide was rising dangerously. When the emotion turned to fear, and the fear was going to sour into panic, the wetness disappeared. She was dressed in the clothes she had left at the Beach After the Now and stretched out on the grass of Ibirapuera Park.

  - My God! What’s wrong with you? Get up. I’ve been calling you like a madman for two minutes in the middle of this crowd. Where were you?

  Violet looked and saw that she was ten metres from where she had left her father and the bicycles.

  - Daddy!

  She leapt up like a cat and clung to the neck of a father who was more worried than angry.

  - Where were you?

  - Right here, Dad. You know I love you, don’t you? Have this.

  She stretched out her hand and offered him a small shell, which in the midst of the turmoil, her left hand had grazed against on the sea bed and grabbed in a reflex action.

  - What’s this?

  - Just a small shell, of course. You can make a wish because it must be magic.

  He returned her smile. He didn’t understand. But he also didn’t worry in the least about knowing how she, seventy kilometres from the sea, came to have a shell in her hand. Seeing his daughter was enough.

  The two orchestras were now playing Aquarela do Brasil, written in 1939 by the genius composer Ary Barroso.

  Violet felt unimaginable happiness at seeing so many people watching once again. For her and for many, Brazil was the land of all music and all musicians.

  CHAPTER XXVII

  NOTHING IS FOREVER, BUT LOVE IS

  One month of normal life passed by. The next one brought very important news. Her parents had sent for two of the best and most respected piano tuners in the city on two different days.


  Violet cried and cried when she heard the two diagnoses. They were identical. The soundboard was perfect, but the pin block, which houses the pins that hold and stretch the strings, which, for their part, exercise tons of traction strength, had many twisted, worn down pins. It had become impossible to tune it now. The other mechanisms had also worn out over time. The diagnosis from the piano tuners was as follows: a complete overhaul. Replace the pin block, strings and the internal mechanisms as well.

  It was not an easy decision. Because it was old, the piano had 86 keys and two pedals. Violet needed an instrument technically suited to her time to go on to be a professional. She would soon be doing the entrance exam for the São Paulo Municipal School of Music. The exam was highly contested and she, though well prepared, needed to study a lot. The cost of renovations, which would take more than two months, was a little more than half that of a first-rate piano.

  Violet was very reluctant to accept the idea. Until, the afternoon of the following Saturday after the visit of the last tuner, her father and mother went into her bedroom. They found her more thoughtful than sad. They sat beside her on the bed.

  - Darling. Have you thought how happy the piano will be in continuing its mission?

  - What do you mean, Dad?

  - Maybe somewhere there’s a little girl just beginning. It will be perfect for her as it was for you.

  - There could also be a little boy waiting for it. Who knows? – added her mother.

  - But dad, will it be loved?

  - By you, I’m certain.

  - But by the new owner?

  - Anyone who buys a piano like that is certainly special. So, they’ll love it, too.

  - It’s alive. You know that, don’t you?

  - In a certain way, yes. Its life is the life that its owners lend it. I’m sure that our Father in Heaven puts everything right. The owner of the piano repair shop is enchanted with the piano.

  Violet got a hug from her mother. That firm hug lasted a long time. Long enough for the three tears rolling down her face to evaporate in the air at the end of the day on a delightful Saturday.