That morning I woke up to the smell of impossible.

Do you know how impossible smells? Like first snow and summer thunderstorm at the same time. Like a new book and old attic treasures. Like grandma's pies and cosmic stars.

I knew right away - something important would happen today. Mom always says I imagine too much. And that at twelve years old, it's time to stop believing in fairy tales.

But she doesn't know the main thing - some fairy tales believe in you.

Especially when your sun drawn on a foggy window suddenly winks and says: "What did you expect? You drew me yourself!"

And that's just the beginning. Because then there will be:

- A butterfly with transparent wings through which other worlds can be seen

- An artist painting with starlight colors

- A gardener growing gardens from human smiles

- The Keeper of the Well where all world's possibilities live

- And even the Dancing One In The Center Of Times herself!

But the main thing is not this.

The main thing is the choice I'll have to make:

to remain an ordinary girl in an ordinary world

or become a Keeper of Wonders in a world where everything is possible.

Even what cannot be.

Especially what cannot be.

"DANCING WITH WONDERS" is a story about how the most important wonders live not somewhere far away, but right here. In simple things. In ordinary days. In every heartbeat.

You just need to not be afraid to be yourself.

Especially when everyone around says it's impossible.

Because exactly where explanations end, true wonders begin.

And this choice - to become a Keeper of Wonders or remain ordinary - will face not only the main character.

It will face everyone who opens this book.

And you? Are you ready to see wonders where no one else notices them?

‍

PROLOGUE: THE FIRST SPARK OF WONDER

"Wonders begin where explanations end"

That morning I woke up to the smell of impossible.

Do you know how impossible smells? Like first snow and summer thunderstorm at the same time. Like a new book and old attic treasures. Like grandma's pies and cosmic stars.

I knew right away - something important would happen today. Mom always says I imagine too much. And that at twelve years old, it's time to stop believing in fairy tales. But she doesn't know the main thing - some fairy tales believe in you.

I was sitting by the window, drawing with my finger on the foggy glass. Nothing special - just doodles. A sun with rays, a cloud, a bird. The kind all children draw when they're bored in class or while riding the bus.

And suddenly... the sun winked!

"Oh!" - I pulled my hand back. My heart was beating somewhere in my throat.

"What did you expect?" - asked the sun in the most ordinary voice, as if drawn suns talk every day. "You drew me yourself!"

"But... but you're not supposed to be alive," - I whispered, feeling goosebumps the size of sparrows running down my spine.

"Supposed - not supposed..." - the sun rolled its drawn eyes. "That's the whole problem! Everyone only thinks about what's supposed to be and what's not. But wonders happen exactly where someone forgets about these 'supposed to'!"

It jumped on the glass, leaving a trail of tiny sparks:

"Do you know what's most important about wonders?"

"What?" - I moved closer, mesmerized by the dancing sparks.

"That they only happen to those who..." - the sun paused, - "...who aren't afraid to look silly!"

And it stuck its tongue out at me!

A real tongue! Pink as raspberry ice cream!

I burst out laughing - and at that moment, the first real wonder happened.

My laughter suddenly became visible! It swirled around the room in colorful bubbles, each the size of a tennis ball. In each bubble something amazing was reflected - here a dragon playing chess with a butterfly, there a whale swimming through the sky between clouds, and there a little girl teaching stars to waltz.

"There!" - the sun jumped happily. "Now you're ready!"

"For what?"

"For a real adventure! For what you were born for! For what you dreamed of, even when you didn't know you were dreaming!"

It suddenly jumped off the glass - right onto my palm. It felt ticklish and warm, like holding a piece of summer day.

"I hereby appoint you The-One-Who-Sees-Wonders!" - the sun announced solemnly.

"The what?"

"The-One-Who-Sees-Wonders!" - it repeated. "It's a very important job! You need to find wonders in the most ordinary things and help others see them!"

It flew to my bookshelf, where textbooks suddenly started stretching and yawning, waking from a long sleep:

"Look! Even in the math textbook hide amazing stories! Here, between the formulas - see? - sleeps a constellation that no one has discovered yet!"

"What do I need to do?" - I came closer, and the algebra textbook friendly waved at me with its page corner.

"First, learn the three main rules of wonders!"

The sun spiraled around me in a golden helix, bending its drawn little fingers:

"Rule number one: trust your eyes, even when reason says 'this cannot be'!

Rule number two: be amazed by everything, even if you've seen it a hundred times!

And rule number three..." - here the sun paused, - "rule number three is the most important..."

"What is it?" - I leaned forward.

"Ah, that you'll have to find out yourself!" - the sun suddenly started melting in the air, turning into warm golden light. "Because the most important discoveries we must make on our own!"

Its voice became like the rustle of first spring leaves:

"And remember - you're not just Lisa anymore! You're The-One-Who-Sees-Wonders! And that means..."

The last words sounded from somewhere far away:

"...that the most amazing adventures begin exactly when we stop being afraid to be ourselves!"

And it dissolved completely, leaving behind only warm radiance and the smell of summer morning.

And I... I remained standing in the middle of my room, which now seemed like an entrance to a thousand new worlds. In my hand, I clutched a tiny golden spark - the last gift from the drawn sun.

And somewhere deep in my soul, I knew - this is just the beginning. The beginning of a story where everything is possible. You just need to remember the main thing:

Wonders begin where explanations end.

And continue everywhere where someone isn't afraid to believe in the impossible.

And in the city at that moment, all clocks started showing different times.

And each was absolutely accurate.

For its own fairy tale.

‍

CHAPTER 1: THE MYSTERY OF THE NAMELESS WONDER

"True wonders live not where everything is possible, but where someone dares to be themselves"

It happened on a Tuesday.

The most ordinary Tuesday transformed into the most extraordinary day of my life because of one puddle. Or rather, because of what turned out not to be a puddle.

I was running home from school, jumping over real puddles - the ones that reflect the sky. And suddenly I saw a puddle that reflected... something else. I didn't even have time to understand what exactly - because my schoolbag, which I was habitually tossing in the air as I walked, suddenly broke free from my hands and plopped right into this strange water.

And disappeared.

Simply dissolved, as if it had never existed.

"Hey!" I dropped to my knees, peering into the puddle. "My favorite poetry notebook is in there!"

"And how many poems are in it?" someone asked right by my ear.

I jumped in surprise. Next to the puddle sat a butterfly. But not an ordinary striped or spotted one. Its wings were transparent, like the glass in my mother's spectacles. And through them you could see... you could see...

"Oh," was all I could say, because through the butterfly's wings I could see a garden. But not an ordinary city garden with swings and a sandbox. This was a garden where flowers of all possible and impossible colors bloomed - even those for which names hadn't yet been invented.

"'Oh' is not an answer," the butterfly noted sternly, as if it were a Russian language teacher. "I asked about the poems. Are they real?"

"What do you mean - real?" I was confused.

"In the most direct sense," the butterfly fluttered its wings, and luminous traces remained in the air, like lines of an unknown alphabet. "Do they tell the truth or what's supposed to be written in poems?"

I thought about it. In my notebook were strange poems - not about autumn forests and spring streams, like everyone else's. I wrote about how clouds tell each other bedtime stories. About how stars play hide-and-seek with moonlight. About how trees dance waltz when no one is watching.

"Probably incorrect poems," I sighed. "Real poems don't have such things..."

"Oh really!" the butterfly suddenly grew to the size of our cat Barsik. "Then what's this?"

And it flapped its wings - once, twice, three times!

All the puddles around lifted off the ground! They hung in the air like mirrors, and each reflected its own world:

In one, whales played tag with clouds.

In another, trees whispered to each other using flowers instead of words.

In the third, children built castles from sunlight.

"But... but..." I looked around bewildered. "Is this even possible?"

"No," agreed the butterfly. "It's not possible. But it happens. Because true wonders live not where everything is possible, but where someone isn't afraid to be themselves."

It shrunk again and landed on my palm:

"Want to get your notebook back?"

"Of course!"

"Then jump."

"Where?"

"Into the puddle, obviously! Or do you think wonders come to those who are afraid to get their feet wet?"

And before I could get scared or change my mind, the butterfly gently pushed me with its transparent wing.

One step.

One splash.

One heartbeat.

And the world turned upside down!

I fell through colors that don't exist in paints.

Flew past sounds that can't be heard with ears.

Spun in a dance with wind that smelled of children's dreams.

And then...

I fell until I landed in the most amazing garden in the world. Flowers grew here with roots upward, emanating colored light instead of fragrance. Trees conversed in leaf-rustle language that I somehow understood. And in the center, on an old bench with peeling paint, lay my schoolbag.

But not just a schoolbag - it glowed from within, like a flashlight under a blanket when reading a book at night.

I carefully opened it, and...

All my poems came alive!

Letters rose from the pages like schools of silver fish and turned into tiny constellations. Lines wove into rainbows that you could walk on. And between the words, gardens bloomed - exactly like the one I had seen through the butterfly's wings.

"Now do you see?" the butterfly appeared again, but now it was woven from the same light as everything around. "Real isn't where everyone says 'correct'. It's where you're not afraid to say what lives in your heart."

"How do I get back home?" I asked, watching as my poems about dancing trees transformed into a real waltz of leaves and wind.

"Why go back?" the butterfly wondered. "You're already home."

"Where?"

"In your real world. The one that always lived in your heart. You just were afraid to believe in it before."

And only then did I understand - this was my garden. The very one I wrote about in my poems. The one I always imagined when looking at the boring school yard. The one no one believed in except me.

"But what about school? And mom? And..."

"Open your eyes," the butterfly said softly.

"They are open!"

"No. Really open them."

I blinked.

And found myself... in my courtyard!

But it was already a completely different courtyard. The same - but entirely different.

Now I could see how clouds gather in circles to tell each other stories.

How stars wink at streetlamps: "Hey, colleagues!"

How the wind draws invisible pictures, then erases them and draws new ones.

My schoolbag stood nearby - ordinary on the outside, but inside... Inside the notebook still glowed. And if you listened carefully, you could hear the letters quietly humming my poems.

"Remember," the butterfly perched on my shoulder, now almost invisible in the sunset light. "Wonders aren't about escaping to another world. They're about learning to see the real world - the one that lives behind the veil of habit. The one where every puddle can become a door. Every word - a key. Every moment - a miracle."

And it dissolved in the air, leaving behind only a barely perceptible scent of thunderstorm and honey.

And I... I went home. By the usual road. Past ordinary houses.

But now I knew:

The world is full of doors to wonder.

You just need to not be afraid to enter them.

And most importantly - not be afraid to be yourself.

Even if no one else sees what you see.

Especially if no one else sees what you see.

Because true wonders begin where explanations end.

And continue everywhere someone dares to believe in the impossible.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

And each was absolutely accurate.

For its own fairy tale.

‍

CHAPTER 2: MIRRORS OF UNITY

"In the world there are no opposites - only different parts of one dance"

It all started with socks.

I was getting ready for school when I noticed that my favorite socks with kittens had become... strange. One showed yesterday, the other - tomorrow. In the left one, a kitten chased a ball of yarn that hadn't been unraveled yet, while in the right one - it was already sleeping, curled up in that very ball.

"Mom!" I shouted. "My socks are broken!"

"What do you mean broken?" my mom's voice from the kitchen sounded completely normal, as if socks couldn't break.

"They... they're arguing!"

And indeed - the kittens on the socks were now quarreling with each other:

"We should go right!" mewed the left one.

"No, left!" hissed the right one.

"Forward!" insisted the first.

"Back!" disagreed the second.

"Lisa, stop fantasizing and come down for breakfast," Mom sighed.

But I already knew - these weren't fantasies. After meeting the talking sun and the butterfly with transparent wings, I had learned to distinguish ordinary strangeness from real wonders.

And this was definitely a wonder. Because when I came down to the kitchen...

All reflections in the house had rebelled!

The kettle reflected sunset, although it was early morning.

In spoons - instead of upside-down faces appeared tiny galaxies.

And in Mom's glasses actually reflected what was only supposed to happen in an hour!

"Mom, don't you notice anything strange?"

"Strange?" Mom stirred her coffee, and constellations swirled in the cup. "No, everything's as usual. Only..."

She squinted, looking out the window:

"I think the neighbors' mirror ran away."

I ran to the window and nearly choked on my cereal - an ornate mirror in an antique frame was majestically marching down the street! It moved on carved legs, like some old commode, and occasionally stopped to reflect something unusual - like an underground rainbow, or fish swimming in the air.

And behind it...

"Oh!" Mom squeaked when a whole procession of mirrors of all shapes and sizes marched past our window.

Small pocket mirrors hopped like grasshoppers.

Makeup mirrors powdered themselves with moon dust on the go.

And huge wardrobe mirrors carried reflections of other worlds on their surfaces, as if they were windows into parallel universes.

"I must have made my coffee too strong," Mom muttered, taking off her glasses and wiping them with a napkin.

And I... I knew what to do! I took out my notebook, which still glowed after yesterday's adventure, and quickly wrote:

"Today all mirrors decided to show the truth."

And the letters immediately came alive! They jumped off the page and ran out the window, chasing after the procession of mirrors.

"Lisa, you'll be late for school," Mom was still wiping her glasses, not noticing that they reflected a unicorn reading a newspaper.

"I won't!" I grabbed my bag. "I'll take a shortcut!"

And I ran out the door.

But instead of turning toward school, I ran after the mirrors. They were all moving in one direction - toward the old clock tower in the city center.

Something incredible was happening along the way:

Store windows showed not goods, but passersby's dreams.

Puddles reflected not the sky, but other worlds.

Even in dewdrops on the grass, you could see whole stories!

And suddenly...

"Watch your step!" came a familiar voice.

I stopped just in time - I had almost stepped on a boy who was sitting right in the middle of the sidewalk. He held a brush in his hands, from which dripped... stars?

"Hi!" he lifted his head, and I saw that one of his eyes was the color of dawn, the other - of sunset. "I'm Mark. I paint what no one sees. Or rather, what everyone sees but pretends not to notice."

"What are you painting now?" I sat down beside him, mesmerized by how the starry drops turned into tiny constellations before dissolving in the air.

"Look!" Mark waved his brush, and a transparent canvas appeared in the air. "I'm painting a dance."

"Of what with what?"

"Of everything with everything!" he laughed, and his multicolored eyes sparkled. "Watch carefully..."

First stroke - golden: "This is day..."

Second - silver: "This is night..."

And when they met on the canvas, a miracle happened - they didn't mix into gray, but began to dance, creating amazing patterns of light and shadow.

"See?" Mark added a drop of dawn pink. "Everyone thinks opposites should fight. But they actually..."

"Dance!" I breathed out, watching as light and darkness intertwined in an amazing waltz on the painting.

"Exactly!" he added some stardust. "Like summer and winter - they're not enemies, they're partners in the dance of seasons. Like joy and sorrow - one makes the other deeper. Like..."

"Like silence and music!" I caught on, remembering yesterday's butterfly and its lesson about the space between words.

"You understand!" Mark rejoiced. "Want to try?"

He held out a second brush - it looked ordinary, but when I took it, I felt a tiny heart beating inside the brush.

"Just don't think," he warned. "Just let the opposites find each other."

I carefully touched the canvas. A drop of pure joy fell from the brush - bright as the first day of summer vacation. And following it, of its own accord, slipped a drop of gentle sadness from the brush - transparent as the last day before school.

And when they met...

BAM!

The whole world around us exploded with music! But not ordinary music - each opposite sang its own song:

Traffic lights performed a symphony of red and green.

Trees conducted a choir of leaves and roots.

Clouds and puddles staged a musical duel - and both won!

"Oh," I got scared. "Did I paint something wrong?"

"No," Mark smiled. "You painted exactly right. You painted the truth."

"What truth?"

"That in the world there's no 'right' and 'wrong'. There are only different parts of one dance. Look!"

He quickly drew his brush through the air, creating a new canvas:

"Here's the sun - it's bright, hot, alive..."

A stroke of gold.

"And here's the moon - cool, mysterious, dreamy..."

A stroke of silver.

"And when they meet..."

He joined the colors, and a flock of butterflies broke free from the canvas! But not ordinary ones - each had one wing of sunlight, the other of moonlight. They whirled around us, leaving trails of stars and sunbeams in the air.

"Now it's your turn," said Mark. "What do you want to unite?"

I thought. Then decisively dipped the brush in the air:

"Courage..." - a stroke of fiery red.

"And fear..." - a stroke of pale blue.

When the colors touched, out of the canvas jumped... a rabbit! But not an ordinary one - it constantly changed colors, shimmering with all shades of the rainbow, and somehow managed to remain invisible at the same time!

"This is the bravest coward in the world!" Mark laughed. "See? When opposites become friends, something completely new is born!"

We painted all day. We combined laughter and tears - we got warm summer rain where sunbeams splashed. We mixed fast and slow - we got a dance of clouds that simultaneously stood still and moved faster than wind.

And the mirrors kept walking toward the clock tower. But now they didn't just reflect other worlds - they showed how all opposites in the world actually make up one whole:

In one mirror, a dragon and a knight played chess.

In another, a wolf and Little Red Riding Hood had tea.

In a third, mathematics and poetry performed a rap duet!

When the sun began to set, Mark pulled two crystals from the pocket of his strange jacket (which seemed to be sewn from patches of day and night).

"These are crystals of unity," he said. "When it seems the world is divided into 'good' and 'bad', look through it."

I held the crystal to my eyes and gasped. The world through it looked completely different! Each opposite was connected to another by finest threads of light. Good and evil, truth and lies, beauty and ugliness - everything turned out to be parts of one great dance.

"Now you see?" asked Mark, who suddenly looked like his true self. "Nothing is separate. Everything is one. As day cannot be without night, as inhale cannot be without exhale..."

"As story cannot be without mystery!" I caught on, remembering my glowing notebook.

"Exactly!" Mark began to melt in the twilight, becoming like the Cheshire Cat's smile, only multicolored. "And remember - when you meet something that seems wrong..."

"You just need to find its pair in the dance!" I finished.

Evening wrapped the city in purple haze. The butterflies with sun-moon wings melted in the air, leaving behind the scent of storm and honey. The brave cowardly rabbit hopped away on a rainbow that connected sunset and sunrise.

And I went home, clutching the unity crystal in one hand and the brush given by Mark in the other. Now I knew something very important:

The world isn't divided into black and white.

It's woven from all colors at once.

And the most beautiful happens where opposites don't fight, but dance.

And in the garden remained blooming that amazing flower - black and white, but creating all colors of the world where its opposites meet in the dance of unity.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

And each was absolutely accurate.

For its own dance.

‍

CHAPTER 3: THE GARDENER OF SIMPLICITY

"The greatest wonders live in the simplest things"

That morning I woke up to the smell of apples.

A strange smell - as if all the apples in the world had ripened simultaneously. And not just apples - pears, plums, oranges, and even fruits that haven't been invented yet. The smell was so thick you could seemingly spread it on bread instead of jam.

I looked out the window and saw that our ordinary courtyard had turned into a garden. But not a city garden with scraggly bushes, but a real Garden - just like that, with a capital G.

Between the buildings grew trees that don't exist in nature - on one branch apples, on another stars, on the third - gummy bears. Along the paths, instead of asphalt, spread a living carpet of moss that glowed in the shadows and sang quiet songs at dawn.

And in the center of the courtyard, on an ordinary bench with peeling green paint, sat a person. Neither old nor young - as if age was something optional for him, like a tie at a pajama party. He held the most ordinary dandelion in his hands and smiled as if this flower was the greatest treasure in the world.

"Ah, young seeker of wonders!" he waved the dandelion at me as if conducting an invisible orchestra. "Come down, don't be shy. Simplicity doesn't bite!"

I ran down the stairs, skipping steps. Each step, by the way, had also changed - one smelled of fresh bread, another purred like a kitten, the third told tales about distant lands.

"I'm the Gardener," said the man when I approached. "Just the Gardener. No strange titles or mysterious names. Have a seat!"

I carefully sat down. The bench was warm, as if it had just been sunbathing, although morning had barely begun.

"Look," the Gardener held out the dandelion. "What do you see?"

"Well... an ordinary flower," I shrugged. After Mark's flying paints and singing roses, this seemed quite uninteresting.

"Really?" the Gardener held the dandelion up to the sun. "And now?"

And suddenly...

Each petal turned into a tiny sun!

In the stem you could see green life-light flowing!

And in the flower's heart, tiny galaxies swirled!

"Wow!" I breathed. "How did you do that?"

"Me?" the Gardener seemed surprised. "I didn't do anything. It's always like this. People just usually rush too much to notice."

He pulled a handful of seeds from the pocket of his worn gardening apron:

"Want to try growing a wonder?"

"Is it difficult?"

"The most difficult thing in the world!" laughed the Gardener. "And the simplest. Watch..."

He poured the seeds into my palm. The most ordinary seeds - brown, small, unremarkable. The kind sold in any gardening store.

"Now close your eyes," he asked. "And feel how a whole world sleeps in each seed."

I obeyed. And suddenly...

I felt tiny hearts beating in the seeds!

How they breathed - slowly, calmly, wisely!

How inside each was folded a whole universe, waiting for its moment!

"And now," the Gardener's voice became like spring rain's whisper, "plant them. Just as your heart tells you."

I knelt down and arranged the seeds on the ground. I didn't think about how to do it right. I just felt where each of them would be happy.

"Excellent!" the Gardener clapped his hands, and sparks of simple, pure joy flew from his fingers. "And now - the most difficult part..."

"What?" I prepared for something incredible.

"Wait," winked the Gardener. "Just wait. Without magical spells. Without magical dances. Just be near and believe."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

I sighed disappointedly. After the colorful wonders of recent days, this seemed... too simple.

"Look!" suddenly said the Gardener.

Right before our eyes, the seeds began to sprout! But not as usual - slowly and imperceptibly. But like this:

The first shoot shot up in a fountain of green light!

The second opened in a spiral, twisting time around itself!

The third rang very thinly, like a silver bell!

"But... how?" I looked bewildered at this miracle. "We didn't do anything special!"

"Exactly!" the Gardener beamed. "That's the secret. Wonders don't like being forced to happen. They come by themselves - to those who can simply be near. Simply love. Simply believe."

He took out a small watering can from another pocket:

"Want to water them?"

I took the watering can. Inside was the most ordinary water. But when I watered the shoots...

Each drop turned into a tiny rainbow!

Each splash sounded like a note from the song of life!

Each puddle became a window into another world!

"See?" the Gardener collected fallen drops in his palm. "Simple things are the most magical. Because they contain primordial wonder. That from which everything else is born."

By noon our courtyard was filled with flowers. Not fantastic ones, not talking ones, not flying ones. Just flowers. But each was a real miracle:

Daisies told stories with sunbeams.

Bluebells rang with the song of dawn.

Cornflowers kept pieces of summer sky in their blue.

"Now do you understand?" asked the Gardener when the sun began to set. "No need to look for wonders far away. They're here, nearby. In every blade of grass. In every dewdrop. In every breath of wind."

He picked another dandelion and blew on it. The fluff flew away, turning into tiny stars, and then - into new flowers, simple and beautiful.

"Take this," he held out a small bag of seeds. "When you want a real wonder, just plant one. And wait. Without expectations. Without demands. Just be near and love."

I walked home, clutching the bag of seeds to my chest. Now I saw the world anew:

A crack in the asphalt was a cradle for a future blade of grass.

A sparrow on the wires conducted the sunset symphony.

An old lamppost told stories to those who knew how to listen.

And in the garden, the Gardener continued his simple and important work - reminding the world that the greatest wonders live in the most ordinary things.

You just need to not be afraid to be simple.

Not ashamed to be ordinary.

Not try to be special.

Just be.

Just love.

Just believe.

And then every dandelion will become a star.

Every dewdrop - a window to wonder.

Every moment - infinity.

Because real magic isn't in complexity.

It's in simplicity.

Such simplicity that can only be seen with the heart.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

And each was absolutely accurate.

For its own simplicity.

‍

CHAPTER 4: THE WELL OF IMPOSSIBLE

"Every drop holds all the stories that have ever happened"

I didn't plan to wake up at five in the morning. Honestly! But try sleeping when your alarm clock suddenly decides to perform an opera.

"Ding-dong!" it sang in a thin voice, then got scared of its own boldness and hid under the pillow.

But it wasn't even the singing alarm clock that woke me. It was the silence after its song. Such a ringing silence that it seemed you could pour it into a glass and drink it in small sips.

Something was hiding in this silence. Something important. As if the whole world was holding its breath before a leap.

I already knew this sign - this is how real adventures begin.

The crystal of unity given by Mark came alive in my pajama pocket. The simple flowers from the Gardener stirred anxiously in the vase on the windowsill. And the magical seeds in the pouch began to softly sing a lullaby.

"Hurry!" they whispered in chorus. "It's time!"

I ran out into the garden, not even changing out of my pajamas. The morning fog was still sleeping in the corners, curled up like kittens. But one little ball was strange - it glowed and... winked!

"Hey!" called the foggy ball in a voice like the ringing of crystal drops. "Follow me! But quietly-quietly, so as not to wake the wonders that are still sleeping."

It rolled down the path, leaving behind traces of silver sparks, like skate marks on first ice.

I ran after it. Past sleeping houses where the last stars still flickered in the windows. Through the park where trees conversed in their sleep in the language of rustling leaves. Along narrow streets that were never on the city map.

"Here!" the foggy ball dove into some arch.

I flew in after it and...

Do you know what surprise looks like when it freezes in the air? That's exactly how I froze.

I was standing in a round square that definitely wasn't in the city before. In the center of the square was a well. The most ordinary village well with a wooden roof and an old bucket on a chain.

But...

The chain went up, not down - straight into the sky!

The bucket was woven from moonlight!

And from the depths came singing - not voices, but silence itself!

"Welcome," came a voice like waves lapping at the shore. "I've been waiting for you."

Next to the well stood a person. His skin was the color of the purest water, and in his eyes splashed all the seas of the world - from the warm Black Sea to the frozen Northern Sea.

"I am the Well Keeper," he said simply. "Want to look inside?"

I nodded, unable to speak a word.

"Just carefully," warned the Keeper. "Inside there isn't water - there are possibilities. All the possibilities of the world."

I approached the edge and...

Gasped!

The well had no bottom. None at all.

Instead of water, stars splashed there.

Between them swam whales the size of pinheads.

And somewhere in the depths, whole universes flickered.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the Keeper smiled. "This is the Well of Impossible. Here lives everything that hasn't happened yet but very much wants to happen."

He lowered the bucket - upward! - and when he pulled it out, something incredible splashed inside.

"This is the water of beginning," he explained. "From it are born all rivers, all seas, all rains. Want to try?"

I carefully peered into the bucket. Inside was the most ordinary water. Completely transparent. But when I looked at it...

In each drop reflected a new story!

In each splash sounded a new song!

In each glint sparkled a new dream!

"Drink," the Keeper said softly. "Just remember - this water doesn't quench thirst. It creates it. Thirst for wonders. Thirst for the impossible. Thirst to be yourself."

I raised the bucket to my lips.

First sip - and I heard the music of all stars at once!

Second - and I saw all colors that haven't been invented yet!

Third - and I tasted joy itself!

"Wow!" I breathed when I could speak again. "This... this..."

"These are possibilities," the Keeper nodded. "Now they will always be with you. In every ordinary drop of water you will see the reflection of wonder."

He pulled from the air a small bottle of blue glass:

"Here. This is water from the very depths of the well. There, where the boldest dreams are born."

I took the bottle. It was warm like a summer sea and cool like a mountain stream - simultaneously!

"And what do I do with it?"

"Oh!" the Keeper laughed, and his laughter rang like a thousand silver bells. "This is the most important water in the world. When you meet someone who has forgotten how to dream - give them a drop. When you see a place where joy has gone out - water it. When you hear a story that's afraid to be told - add it to the ink."

Suddenly something flashed in the depths of the well! A bright beam of light shot upward, swirled around me and...

Turned into a little water dragon!

"This is Droplet," the Keeper introduced him. "He will be your guide. Just don't try to catch him - water doesn't like to be held. It likes to be befriended."

The dragon happily tumbled in the air and settled on my shoulder. He was warm and ticklish, like summer rain.

"Now run," the Keeper winked. "The sun is about to rise, and with the first rays the Well of Impossible hides. But now you know - it's always nearby. In every drop of water. In every tear. In every dewdrop."

I ran home, clutching the blue bottle to my chest. Droplet flew beside me, leaving a rainbow trail in the air.

And now I saw...

How in every puddle reflected not the sky, but another universe.

How invisible mermaids danced in the fountain.

How pieces of rainbow hid in the morning dew.

And the Well of Impossible... It's still there. Just only those who believe in the impossible so strongly that it becomes possible can find it.

And if one early morning you hear the ringing of crystal drops and see a glowing ball of fog...

Run after it!

Maybe it will lead you to the Well where in the deepest water hide the most important wonders.

Wonders that are waiting just for you.

Because everyone needs their own drop of impossible.

To become possible.

To become real.

To become yourself.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

And each was absolutely accurate.

For its own wonder.

‍

CHAPTER 5: THE MUSIC OF SILENCE

"The most important music is that which sounds in the silence between notes"

Do you know how the loudest silence in the world sounds? Like the whole world holding its breath before the first note.

That morning I woke up to such silence. It was so thick and ringing that you could cut it into pieces and spread it on bread instead of honey.

Droplet, my water dragon, nervously circled around the room, leaving silver spirals in the air. The crystal of unity from Mark softly rang, as if being tickled from inside. And the simple flowers from the Gardener bowed their heads, as if listening to something incredibly important.

"Ding!" an invisible string suddenly twanged.

And the world... turned upside down!

I found myself in a place that cannot be. It wasn't a room or a garden - it was the very space between sounds. Here clouds were notes, and stars sang lullabies to those who were yet to be born.

"Finally!" came a voice like the chiming of crystal bells. "I've been waiting!"

On a rainbow folded into a rocking chair (have you ever tried folding a rainbow into a chair? it's very ticklish!), sat a girl. No, a grandmother. No... It was a being beyond age, woven from music and light. Her hair was harp strings, and her dress was the frozen sounds of all the songs in the world.

"I am Melody," she introduced herself, rocking on the rainbow. "And I keep all the songs that haven't been sung yet. All the sounds that haven't been born. All the music that hides in silence."

She waved her hand, and notes began swirling in the air - alive, glowing, each with its own character. Some were mischievous and jumped like sparrows, others were important and floated like swans, others were shy and hid behind clouds.

"And do you know that every person is a song?" asked Melody, coaxing an especially shy note to her. "Just not everyone remembers their melody."

"And me?" I held my breath. "Do I have my own song too?"

"Of course!" Melody laughed, and her laughter scattered into colorful stars. "Want to hear it?"

"Yes!"

"Then close your eyes and don't breathe."

I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath.

And then...

I heard it. My song. It sounded like first snow and last sunset simultaneously. Like mom's voice and the rustle of book pages. Like the ticking of clocks and the whisper of stars.

"Is that really... me?" I whispered, opening my eyes.

"Of course!" Melody jumped off the rainbow, and her dress rang with all the bells in the world. "But you know what's most amazing? Your song is part of the Great Symphony!"

"What symphony?"

"The one that sounds always and everywhere! Listen!"

She clapped her hands, and the world filled with music. But not ordinary music - I heard how the air itself sang, how rays of light rang, how dust motes whispered among themselves.

"And now..." Melody pulled from the air a conductor's baton made of frozen moonlight, "want to learn to conduct wonders?"

"Is that possible?"

"It's not," she winked. "That's why we absolutely must try!"

And she handed me a second baton - made of sunlight.

What happened next cannot be described in ordinary words. Because ordinary words are too heavy for such light music.

We conducted sunrise - and the sun rose by notes!

We played on rain strings - and each drop sang its own song!

We arranged a concert for flowers - and they danced a waltz!

And then...

"Shh!" Melody suddenly whispered. "Do you hear?"

"What?"

"The silence! The most important silence - the one from which music is born!"

And I heard...

How unborn flowers sing in seeds!

How dreams curled up in balls sing in the soul!

How hope hidden in each heart rings!

"Now you're ready," Melody smiled. "Ready to receive your instrument."

"What instrument?"

She cupped her hands like a boat, and between them appeared something... Something like a tiny star, but sounding like a whole orchestra.

"This is the Note of Silence," whispered Melody. "The most important note in the world. Because it's from silence that the most beautiful music is born."

I took the Note in my palms - it was warm like a kitten and ticklish like bubbles in lemonade.

"And how do you play it?"

"You don't," Melody laughed. "You just need to listen to it. And when you meet someone who has forgotten their song - let them listen to silence. Because in silence everyone can hear the music of their heart."

She began to melt in the air, turning into rainbow mist:

"And remember - every moment has its own melody. You just need to learn to listen not with your ears..."

"With what?" I asked, but Melody had already dissolved, leaving behind only the echo of a smile and the smell of summer rain.

And I... I went home. Now I heard music everywhere:

In the footsteps of passersby - the rhythm of life.

In the rustle of leaves - the song of seasons.

In the beating of hearts - the melody of love.

And even silence now sounded new - like the most beautiful music in the world. The music of possibilities. The music of wonders. The music of the soul.

Droplet joyfully circled around me, creating water notes in the air.

The crystal of unity sang in all voices at once.

And the simple flowers in my garden now held a concert for the sun every morning.

Because when you start to hear the music of the world - there's no going back.

And no need to.

Because every moment becomes a song.

Every breath - a melody.

Every heartbeat - part of the great symphony of life.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

And each was absolutely accurate.

For its own song.

In the infinite symphony of wonders.

And if one day you hear a strange silence - so deep that it seems you can hear grass growing and dreams flying...

Freeze.

Listen.

Open your heart.

Because it's in such silence that the most important songs are born.

Songs that are sung without words.

Songs that only the heart can hear.

Songs that make the world a wonder.

‍

CHAPTER 6: THE DANCE OF CREATION

"Life is not a path from point A to point B. It's a dance!"

Today time stopped.

Completely.

I noticed this when I tried to be late for school - and couldn't. All the clocks in the city froze on one second - that very one between "tick" and "tock" where all the world's wonders hide. Birds hung frozen in flight like kites on invisible strings. Even the wind curled up in a ball and dozed off between gusts.

I stood in the middle of the street, and my heart beat in a strange rhythm - as if dancing with stopped time.

Suddenly the Note of Silence in my pocket began to sing - but not with sound, with light. Droplet, my water dragon, spread wings made of morning dew. And the crystal of unity shone in all colors at once, as if it had swallowed a rainbow.

"She's returning!" they chimed in chorus. "The Dancing One In The Center Of Times is returning!"

"Who?" I whispered, and my whisper hung in the air in colorful letters.

"The one who dances the dance of creation! The one who weaves the pattern of all stories! The Great Weaver of Moments!"

BAM!

The world around me... bloomed! Gravity began working in all directions at once, time flowed in patterns, and colors began to sing.

I felt something invisible lift me - as if the air itself had turned into warm hands. They whirled me in a strange dance where each movement created a new reality:

One turn - and all trees bloomed with stars!

Second - and clouds came down to play hide-and-seek with children!

Third - and the rainbow curled into a cozy rocking chair!

"Faster!" sang the air around. "She's waiting!"

I spun faster and faster until the whole world turned into a kaleidoscope of wonders. And suddenly...

I found myself in the most amazing place in the world. It was a huge hall whose walls were woven from frozen lightning, the floor was liquid light, and the ceiling... there was no ceiling at all, instead constellations whirled, playing tag with comets.

And in the center of the hall danced SHE.

The Dancing One In The Center Of Times was like a living whirlwind of all the world's colors. Her movements created and destroyed universes, her smile lit and extinguished stars, and each of her steps changed the pattern of destiny.

"Finally!" she did a pirouette, and all seasons of the year spun around her simultaneously. "Little keeper of wonders! Just in time - we have a catastrophe!"

"What kind?" I asked, trying to keep my balance on the floor that alternated between being hard as diamond and soft as cloud.

"The world has forgotten how to dance!" she made a leap, and fountains of rainbows sprayed from under her feet. "People have forgotten how to move in the rhythm of wonders! They walk in straight lines, think by rules, live by schedule... But life is a dance!"

She waved her hand, and pictures appeared in the air:

Here's a businessman who forgot how to spin with joy.

Here's a teacher who stopped seeing magic in ordinary things.

Here's a whole city frozen in gray ordinariness.

"And what will happen now?" I felt my heart clench with anxiety.

"Oh, it's already happening!" the Dancing One pointed to the edges of the hall, where reality began to peel off like old paint. "When the world stops dancing, it begins to... freeze. First wonders disappear. Then dreams. And then..."

She didn't finish because at that moment a whirlwind of all unlived stories, unfulfilled hopes, and forgotten promises burst into the hall. It spun faster and faster, threatening to tear apart the very fabric of reality.

"We need to do something!" I cried. "But what?"

And then...

"I know!" I suddenly exclaimed, and my voice rang like the first note of a new song.

I took out all my treasures - but not to use them separately. No! I began to dance with them, letting them swirl around me in a whirlwind of possibilities.

The Drop of Memory turned into a waterfall of living stories - each drop was someone's first laugh, first wonder, first love.

The Note of Silence sang a song that made even stones start to dance, and the dust under our feet turned to stardust.

The Seed of Dance sprouted a garden of singing flowers that told stories in the language of fragrances.

"Look!" I shouted to the whirlwind of unlived stories. "You're not just forgotten dreams! You're the beginning of new dances!"

And a miracle happened.

The whirlwind began to slow down. But not because it was losing strength - it too began to dance! Each unfulfilled dream found its place in a new pattern. Each forgotten hope turned into a seed of a new wonder.

And then...

"They're coming!" laughed the Dancing One, and her laughter turned into a firework of butterflies.

Into the hall one by one began appearing my friends - but they were different, more... dancing!

The butterfly flew through a window of sunlight, leaving behind a trail of possibilities.

Mark jumped off a falling star, painting new constellations in flight.

The Gardener grew through the floor like the oldest and youngest tree in the world.

The Well Keeper appeared from a dewdrop, holding a whole ocean.

Melody wove herself from the silence between notes.

And the Dancing One In The Center Of Times... she just smiled, and from her smile new universes bloomed.

"Now!" she cried. "Lisa, you know what to do!"

And I did know. Oh, how I knew!

I began to dance. Not like they teach in dance schools. Not like they show in movies. I danced like life itself dances - freely, unpredictably, completely letting go of all thoughts about "right" and "wrong."

Each of my steps created a new path into the future.

Each wave of my hand lit a new star.

Each turn opened a new door to wonder.

And all my wonderful treasures caught up the dance, transforming on the fly into new forms:

The Drop of Memory became a river of stories.

The Mirror of All Truths - a window into wonders.

The unity crystal - a star of hope.

The seeds - a garden of infinity.

Living water - an ocean of time.

The Note of Silence - the song of life.

The Book-Seed - a tree of fairy tales.

The Scales of Harmony - a rainbow of balance.

And the Seed of Dance - simply love itself.

And gradually something began to change. First imperceptibly, then more and more clearly:

The walls of the dance hall became transparent, and through them all times could be seen at once.

The floor turned into a living mirror reflecting all possible worlds.

The ceiling dissolved, revealing a sky where stars danced waltz with galaxies.

And then...

Everything froze. For one infinite moment the whole world hung in perfect balance between "was" and "will be."

And in that point I suddenly saw the most important thing. I saw that all our adventures, all meetings, all wonders were parts of one great pattern. A pattern that began at the beginning of time and will never end.

A pattern where there are no spectators and dancers - there is only the dance itself.

A pattern where each line is a story.

A pattern where each point is eternity.

"Now do you understand?" asked the Dancing One, and her voice was like the music of all lullabies in the world. "Life is not a path from point A to point B. It's a dance! Eternal, unpredictable, beautiful dance!"

She did a pirouette, and reality spun with her:

"And most importantly - in this dance there are no wrong movements. Each step, each turn, each mistake is part of the pattern. Even falls are just new steps in the dance of life!"

I felt my heart begin to beat in the rhythm of this great dance. And for the first time I truly understood:

All my treasures are not tools or weapons.

They are partners in the dance.

They are notes in the song.

They are colors in the painting of life.

The Dancing One looked at me with eyes in which galaxies whirled:

"Ready to receive your final gift?"

I nodded, unable to speak a word.

The Dancing One made one last turn and... dissolved in the air. But she didn't disappear - she became part of the dance itself. And at that moment all the others began to melt too, turning into pure movement, pure rhythm, pure possibility.

And in my hands appeared something... Something for which there is no name in human language. It was like a little dancing star that was all dances at once and at the same time - the pause between movements.

"Remember," whispered the voice of the Dancing One from nowhere. "The most important thing is not to know the steps. The most important thing is to keep dancing. Even when it seems impossible. Especially when it seems impossible."

And she completely dissolved, leaving behind only the warmth of eternal movement.

And I... I remained standing in the middle of the hall that was no longer a hall but the whole world. Now I saw how everything dances:

How light dances with shadow.

How past dances with future.

How reality dances with dream.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

But now each time was a different dance.

In the infinite ballet of possibilities.

‍

CHAPTER 7: MIRRORS OF TRUTH

"Truth is not in reflections - it's in the heart"

It all started with one "why."

"Why," I asked the mirror, "when I smile, do you smile back?"

And the mirror... thought about it.

Have you ever seen a thinking mirror? It's a very strange sight. First ripples ran across it, like water from a thrown pebble. Then it slightly fogged up, as if someone had breathed on the glass. And then...

"Have you never noticed," answered the mirror in a voice like the ring of a crystal goblet, "that I don't just repeat your smile? I show it as it could be."

I looked more carefully. And indeed - my reflection smiled slightly differently. A bit bolder. A bit brighter. A bit... more real?

"See?" the mirror seemed to wink. "We mirrors don't reflect what is. We show what could be. What hides behind the mask of habit. What lives in the depths of the soul."

And suddenly...

BAM!

All mirrors in the house came alive at once! They began talking to each other in ringing voices, tossing reflections back and forth like balls, and...

"Run!" my mirror shouted. "She's returning!"

"Who?"

But the mirror had already jumped out of its frame and hopped toward the door, leaving behind a trail of silver sparks. I ran after it.

Something incredible was happening outside. All reflecting surfaces had rebelled:

Store windows showed not goods but shoppers' dreams.

Puddles reflected not the sky but other worlds.

Even in dewdrops on the grass you could see whole stories!

And they were all moving in one direction - toward the city center, where the old clock tower stood. Only today the clock showed not time but... possibilities! On the dial instead of numbers spun tiny mirrors, and in each reflected some other world.

I ran after my mirror, jumping over portal-puddles and dodging flying reflections. As I ran, I noticed amazing things:

A boy who thought himself ugly suddenly saw his reflection in a window - and it showed him how beautiful he could be if he believed in himself.

An old woman who had long stopped dreaming looked in a mirror compact - and saw there all her unfulfilled dreams that could still come true.

A businessman in a strict suit accidentally looked in his car's mirror - and saw himself as a little boy who believed in wonders.

"Faster!" called my mirror. "We're late for the Great Council!"

We flew into the old tower through a door that both was and wasn't, climbed stairs whose steps reflected different epochs, and found ourselves...

In the most amazing place in the world.

It was a huge round hall whose walls were made of living mirrors. But not ordinary ones - each reflected something different:

One showed a world where all dreams come true.

Another - where all mistakes become the beginning of something beautiful.

A third - where everyone sees their true self.

And in the center of the hall, on a throne of liquid silver, sat SHE.

The Queen of Mirrors was like a living reflection of beauty itself. Her dress was woven from all the world's reflections, and her crown was made from the first ray of sun that ever reflected in water.

"Finally!" she stood, and all mirrors in the hall rang with joy. "The little keeper of wonders has come! Now we can fix everything!"

"What happened?" I asked, watching as my mirror took its place in the large mirror circle.

"Trouble!" the Queen waved her hand, and pictures appeared in the air. "People have forgotten how to see truth in reflections! They see only what they want to see, or what others want them to see. They've forgotten how to look into depth!"

And I saw...

A girl who thinks herself ugly, though amazing beauty lives within her.

A boy who thinks he's weak, though great strength is hidden in him.

Adults who've forgotten their dreams, though they're still alive.

"And what will happen if they win?"

"It's already happening," sighed the Queen. "Look!"

Around the edges of the hall, mirrors began to dim. Their surfaces were covered with a gray film, like a fog of forgetting. Some had almost completely lost their shine.

"When people stop believing in true reflections, mirrors begin to sicken," explained the Queen. "They dim, cloud over, and can simply... disappear. And with them will disappear the ability to see truth about oneself."

Suddenly the earth shook. A crack ran through all mirrors.

"Oh no!" cried my mirror. "It's begun!"

"What's begun?"

"The Great Dimming!" the Queen jumped from her throne. "When people refuse to see truth for too long, reality begins to... layer."

And indeed - in the center of the hall began gathering a strange fog. It was black and oily, like ink of lies, and in it flickered all the fears and doubts that prevent people from seeing their true beauty.

"We need to do something!" I cried. "But what?"

And then...

"I know!" I exclaimed.

I remembered all my treasures. Each held a piece of truth. Each reflected some facet of wonder.

The Drop of Memory held truth about who we were.

The Note of Silence knew truth about who we are.

The Seed of Dance showed truth about who we can become.

"Look!" I took them all out and raised them high above my head. "Truth isn't in one reflection! It's in all reflections at once!"

And a miracle happened.

All my treasures suddenly merged into one amazing object - a living mirror the size of a palm, in which reflected not the world, but the very possibility of all worlds.

The Queen of Mirrors gasped:

"This... this is the Mirror of All Truths! It exists!"

"What should I do?" I asked, feeling the mirror pulse in my hands with living warmth.

"Dance!" cried my old mirror. "Dance with it!"

And I began to dance. Not thinking. Not planning. Just letting the mirror lead me.

With each movement something amazing happened:

When I spun - all reflections in the hall began to sing.

When I jumped - flowers of light bloomed in the mirrors.

When I froze - time stopped too, allowing everyone to see their true beauty.

The black fog tried to resist. It took different forms:

Fear - "What if I'm not so special?"

Doubt - "Maybe it's better to be like everyone else?"

Disbelief - "Wonders don't exist!"

But with each of my movements holes appeared in the fog, through which something bright and real shone through.

"Look!" I shouted, directing the Mirror of All Truths at the fog. "Look what we really are!"

And the fog... began to cry.

But its tears weren't black - they were crystal clear, like dew at dawn. Each tear turned into a tiny mirror in which reflected some forgotten dream, lost hope, or hidden wonder.

"I was just afraid..." whispered what had been fog, in a voice like the rustle of old photographs. "Afraid that if people saw their true selves, they would stop needing reflections..."

"Silly!" I laughed. "Mirrors will always be needed! Not to show what we should be, but to remind us what we really are!"

And then the most important miracle happened.

The fog began to lighten. First it became silvery, then pearlescent, and then... Then it turned into thousands of tiny mirror-snowflakes that whirled in the air and settled on the ground, turning into flowers of truth.

All mirrors in the hall suddenly shone brighter than before. But now they reflected not what they saw, but what hid behind the visible:

In the ugly - beauty of soul.

In the weak - strength of heart.

In the simple - depth of wonder.

"Now do you understand?" asked the Queen of Mirrors, and her voice rang with all bells of joy. "Truth isn't what one mirror shows. Truth is all reflections at once. All versions of you. All possibilities. All stories!"

She looked at the Mirror of All Truths in my hands:

"It's yours. Forever. Because only one who can see beauty in others deserves to see all reflections of truth."

"And how do I use it?"

"You don't," smiled the Queen. "Just love. When you love - you see truth. Always."

She began to melt in the air, turning into myriads of sparkling fragments:

"And remember - each person is an infinity of reflections. You just need to learn to look with your heart..."

All mirrors in the hall began to melt too, but not disappear - they seemed to absorb into the walls of the world, becoming its invisible but integral part.

And I... I went home. Now I saw reflections everywhere:

In passersby's eyes - their unlived adventures.

In house windows - their untold stories.

In puddles on asphalt - whole worlds of possibilities.

And my old mirror... it just hung on the wall. But now, when I smiled at it, it smiled back slightly differently. A bit bolder. A bit brighter. A bit... more real.

Because now I knew the main thing:

Beauty doesn't live in reflections.

It lives in the heart.

And when the heart is pure - any mirror will show wonder.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

And each was absolutely accurate.

For its own reflection of truth.

‍

CHAPTER 8: THE RAIN OF POSSIBILITIES

"In every raindrop hides a new story"

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday that suddenly ceased to be ordinary.

I woke up to a strange sound - as if a thousand crystal bells had rung simultaneously. Outside, rain was falling, but not ordinary rain - each drop was a different color, and when they hit the ground, tiny rainbows appeared instead of puddles.

"It's the First Rain!" whispered my Mirror of All Truths, bouncing on the nightstand. "The one that taught all water in the world to be alive!"

I ran to the window. The drops weren't just falling - they were dancing! Each told its own story: this one was the first tear of joy from a newborn star, that one was the last dewdrop on the last flower of a vanished world.

And suddenly I noticed that one drop... was suspended right in front of my window. It was the size of a tennis ball and shimmered with all colors at once, as if an entire universe lived inside it.

"Hello!" said the drop in a voice like mountain stream gurgling. "I'm First. The one who taught water to flow. Want to know the secret of all rains?"

Without waiting for an answer, it simply... pulled me inside itself!

Do you know what it's like to be inside a raindrop? It's like being everywhere and nowhere at once. As if you yourself become water, and can flow wherever you want, be whatever you wish.

"Look!" First's voice sounded from everywhere at once. "This is how all the world's stories are born!"

And I saw...

How an ordinary puddle in the yard turned into a window to another world. There, a little girl was looking into her own puddle, and in it was reflected me, and in that reflection was another puddle with another girl - an infinite chain of reflections connecting all worlds at once.

"Water remembers everything," whispered First. "Each drop holds all the stories that have ever happened. You just need to know how to listen."

We floated through the rain - two drops among millions of others. And each drop around us sang its own song:

This one was the tear of a boy who saw a rainbow for the first time.

That one was the last sip of water a mother gave her child in the desert.

The third was the first rain on a newly born planet.

"But people have forgotten," First's voice became sad. "Forgotten that water is alive. That it remembers. That it sings..."

And indeed - below, people ran under umbrellas, grumbling about the weather. They didn't notice that each drop was trying to tell them their own story.

"Look!" First suddenly exclaimed. "It's beginning!"

A huge dark cloud appeared above the city. But not an ordinary rain cloud - this one was woven from all forgotten stories, all unshed tears, all unspoken words.

"This is the Dry Cloud," explained First. "It appears when people forget too much of what's important. If it rains - everyone will forget they once knew how to dream."

"But what can we do?" I felt myself starting to evaporate from fear.

"Can't you see? You have everything you need!"

And then I understood! I took out all my treasures - now they too were drops of different shapes and sizes. The Drop of Memory, the Note of Silence, the Seed of Dance, the Mirror of All Truths - each held within itself a particle of living water.

"Go on!" encouraged First. "Teach them to sing again!"

I began to dance right in the air, and my treasures swirled around me in a colorful circle. With each movement, they created new rain music:

The Drop of Memory sang the song of the first sea.

The Note of Silence sounded the melody of underground rivers.

The Seed of Dance whirled in a waltz of waterfalls.

And the Mirror reflected all these songs at once, multiplying them a thousandfold.

The Dry Cloud noticed us. It tried to cover the city with its shadow of forgetting, but...

"Hey!" I shouted as loud as I could. "Listen! You were once an ordinary rain cloud too! Remember?"

The cloud froze.

"Remember how you brought the first rain to parched fields? How you watered whole forests? How you gave rainbows to children?"

Something stirred in the dark mass of clouds. A small clearing, as if a sunbeam had broken through a tiny crack.

"Now!" whispered First. "This is the most important moment!"

I filled my lungs with air and began to sing - not with my voice, but with my whole being. I sang the song that the first rain sang at the dawn of time. A song about how good it is to be living water, how important it is to remember all stories, how beautiful it is to give life.

And the Dry Cloud... began to cry.

But its tears weren't grey and lifeless. They were crystal clear, ringing, alive! Each drop remembered its own story:

This one was the first snow on a mountain peak.

That one was morning dew on the first flower's petal.

The third was spray from the first whale leaping from the ocean.

The rain turned into a real celebration! People below suddenly stopped, lifted their faces to the sky, and began to smile. Someone took off their shoes and walked barefoot through puddles. Someone opened their mouth, catching drops with their tongue like in childhood. And someone simply spread their arms and began to spin, spin, spin...

"See?" First glowed with joy. "They're remembering! Remembering how to be alive!"

I looked down and saw something amazing: where the living drops fell, the grey city transformed into a fairy tale. Crystal flower gardens grew between buildings. Streams ran through the streets, singing old legends. And in each puddle now reflected not the grey sky, but an entire universe of possibilities.

"Now you're ready," said First. "Ready to receive the final gift."

It began to shrink, becoming smaller and smaller until it turned into a tiny drop the size of a bead. But this drop shone brighter than all stars, because within it lived all the waters of the world.

"This is the Seed of Rain," it whispered. "When you meet a place where dreams have dried up - just drop it. And let a new rain of possibilities fall."

The drop jumped onto my palm and... absorbed into my skin. But it didn't disappear - I could feel it flowing now in my blood, making me a little bit rain, a little bit river, a little bit sea.

I descended back to earth, but now I saw the world with completely different eyes. Each puddle was a window to wonder. Each drop - a living story. Each stream - a song about how everything is possible.

And the rain kept falling, but now in each drop reflected a smile - someone's dream, someone's memory, someone's little miracle.

Because water isn't just H2O.

It's the living memory of the world.

It's the song of all times.

It's the dance of possibilities.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

But now time flowed like water - freely, alive, full of stories.

And each second was a new drop in the endless rain of wonders.

‍

CHAPTER 9: THE TIME OF BLOOMING

"Colors are not paints, they are the living joy of being yourself"

"Mom, a flower grew in my schoolbag!"

This was pure truth - right from the mathematics textbook sprouted a small golden flower, like a dandelion, only each of its petals was a tiny clock.

"Lisa, stop fantasizing and get ready for school," Mom didn't even look up from her coffee.

But I knew - these weren't fantasies. After dancing with the First Rain, the whole world around began to... bloom. And in the most unexpected way.

In the schoolyard, chalk flowers bloomed on the asphalt - they wrote formulas that solved themselves. Between the pages of the history textbook grew vines made of letters, on which ripened fruits of living memories. And on the classroom windowsill bloomed a cactus that, instead of thorns, released tiny fireworks.

"What's happening?" I asked my golden flower.

"Time of blooming!" it sang in a thin voice. "Once every thousand years, all things remember that they were once seeds of wonder. And then..."

BAM!

Right in the middle of math class, the blackboard became covered with buds made of numbers. They bloomed one after another, turning boring examples into amazing patterns.

"Oh!" was all the teacher could say when her pointer bloomed into a bouquet of exclamation marks.

And then real madness began.

Desks took root and began to cover themselves with leaves made of notebook pages. Chalk turned into a flock of white butterflies that wrote glowing formulas in the air. Even the stern portrait of Lomonosov on the wall suddenly smiled and pulled out a flask from its frame, in which bubbled multicolored flower nectar.

"Everyone follow me!" shouted my golden flower, jumping out of the schoolbag. "We must make it to the Great Blooming!"

I grabbed my bag and ran after it, not even waiting for the bell. A whole tail of blooming objects followed me - a ruler blooming with centimeter roses, a pencil case from which protruded colorful tulip-pencils, and even a sandwich from the cafeteria that had turned into an appetizing bouquet of salad and sausage.

We ran out into the yard, and I froze in amazement.

The whole city... was blooming!

Lampposts turned into huge sunflowers that shone with warm yellow light. Houses became covered with living wallpaper of ivy and wisteria. Cars drove down the streets, their exhaust pipes releasing garlands of wildflowers.

But the most amazing thing was happening in the city center. There, where usually stood a monument to some important person, now grew an enormous flower. Its stem was as thick as a multi-story building, and its bud, not yet opened, hovered high in the sky, blocking out the sun.

"It's the First Flower!" whispered my golden flower reverently. "The very one from which all flowers in the world grew!"

Around the First Flower gathered an amazing crowd. There were not only people - I saw fairies from the city park, gnomes from the school garden, elves from the botanical museum, and even several dragons pretending to be gardeners.

"You're late!" a familiar butterfly with transparent wings flew up to us, only now tiny forget-me-nots were blooming on its wings. "It's about to begin!"

"What's about to begin?"

But then the earth trembled. The huge bud of the First Flower began to slowly open...

And a miracle happened.

Each petal was the size of a ship's sail, and on each unfolded its own story. One showed how the first flower on Earth bloomed. Another - how bees learned to make honey. A third - how people thought to give each other bouquets.

But something was wrong.

"Look!" shouted the butterfly. "It's approaching!"

From the north came a strange cloud. Not rain or storm - it looked like clouds of grey dust, in which swirled dried petals and dead seeds.

"It's the Grey Gardener!" explained my flower. "The one who wants to turn all gardens of the world into neat trims and perfect lawns without a single weed!"

The cloud approached, and everywhere it passed, flowers shriveled and turned into plastic copies of themselves. Bright colors faded, living scents disappeared, and the music of growth was replaced by dead silence.

"We need to do something!" I felt my heart tighten. "But what?"

And then...

"I know!" I exclaimed, and all my treasures suddenly glowed with new light.

"We'll write our own story! But not one - all at once!"

I took out the Drop of Memory, and it turned into living ink in which splashed all the memories of the world. The Note of Silence became a song that could be written with light. The Seed of Dance bloomed with letter-flowers. The Mirror of All Truths began reflecting stories that hadn't yet been told.

The Book-Seed opened, and from it jumped a real garden! But not an ordinary one - this was a garden of living letters and signs, where each tree was a story, each flower a poem, and each blade of grass a song.

"Hurry!" rustled the Book. "They're already close!"

I ran right to the city center, and all the books flew after me - from homes, libraries, shops, schools. They swirled around me in a colorful whirlwind, and each told its own story.

In the main square, I saw them - the Story Devourers. They looked like holes in reality through which meaning leaked away. There were many of them - a whole army of emptiness.

"Stop!" I shouted, and my voice sounded like the beginning of a new fairy tale. "You were once stories too! You've just forgotten about it!"

The Devourers froze.

"Look!" I opened the Book-Seed. "Here are your real names!"

And from the book poured light - not ordinary light, but the kind from which all stories are born. In this light, everyone could see their true selves:

Here was a boy who first learned to read.

Here was a girl who wrote her first fairy tale.

Here was a librarian who remembers every book read.

The emptiness began to fill with meaning. The letters they had devoured suddenly began forming new stories - but not frozen ones, living ones, growing ones, changing ones.

And then...

The Book-Seed suddenly grew to the size of a house! Its pages became like screens on which all stories unfolded at once:

Fairy tales intertwined with reality.

Poems became real.

Songs took form.

And everyone who looked into these living pages saw their own story - not the one that was, and not the one that will be, but the one that lives in the heart.

The Story Devourers began to... bloom! Each emptiness filled with colors, each silence with music, each oblivion with memory.

"Now do you understand?" whispered the Book-Seed. "You can't destroy stories. You can only create new ones!"

It opened to the last page:

"Look! Here begins your story!"

And I saw a blank page, but not an empty one - it glowed with all possibilities at once. In it reflected all worlds, all wonders, all dreams.

"This is the Seed of Stories," explained the Book. "That from which all tales are born. Keep it safe. And remember - each person is a book. You just need to help it bloom."

It began to shrink, becoming smaller and smaller until it turned into a tiny seed the size of a heart.

"Take me," it rustled. "And when you meet someone who has forgotten their story - just plant me in their heart. And let a new garden of wonders grow there!"

I swallowed the seed, and it... sprouted right in my heart! Now I felt how all the world's stories lived in me - not as books on a shelf, but as a living forest of possibilities.

And the city... the city turned into one big book!

On each street bloomed a new chapter.

In each window flickered its own fairy tale.

In each puddle reflected a new world.

Because stories are not just words on paper.

They are living seeds of wonder.

That grow in the heart.

And make the world alive.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

And on each hand was written a new story.

In the infinite book of possibilities.

‍

CHAPTER 10: THE RAINBOW CARNIVAL

"Every person is a book, you just need to help it bloom"

That morning I woke up to the scent of an impossible color.

Do you know how a color that doesn't exist smells? Like a rainbow melting on your tongue. Like the Northern Lights scattered into candies. Like stars deciding to become flowers.

I opened my eyes and saw that my room... had vanished. Instead of walls, there was now swirling colorful mist, in which strange figures floated - either fish made of pure light, or birds made of liquid rainbow.

"They're here!" sang my golden flower-clock, bouncing on the windowsill. "The Rainbow Nomads have come!"

"Who?" I rubbed my eyes, but the wonders didn't disappear.

"Those who paint worlds! The traveling circus of wonders! The Great Rainbow Carnival!"

BAM!

A tall figure materialized from the mist. Was it... a clown? No, an artist? No... It was someone who could be everything and nothing simultaneously. Their costume constantly changed colors, and their face was like a kaleidoscope of smiles.

"Little keeper of wonders!" they made such an elaborate bow that they tied themselves into a knot, untied, and tied again. "We've been waiting for you! The carnival can't begin without you!"

"What carnival?"

"The one that paints grey days in the colors of dreams!" they pulled a brush from the air, from which stars dripped. "The one that turns ordinary into impossible! The one that..."

But they couldn't finish because at that moment something incredible began outside.

A parade unlike any circus in the world had ever seen was moving down the street. Acrobats juggling sunbeams. Magicians pulling entire galaxies from their hats. Animal trainers leading constellations on leashes. And between them - beings made of pure color, like living paintings.

"Quickly!" the clown-artist grabbed my hand. "We need to paint the city before sunset!"

And we jumped right through the window.

But instead of falling, we... floated! Right through the air, like on a river of liquid rainbow. Below stretched the city, but it was already beginning to change.

Where the carnival passed, grey building walls bloomed in all colors of the rainbow. Dreary flowerbeds transformed into fireworks of living flowers. Even gloomy passersby suddenly began to glow from within, as if someone had lit little rainbows inside them.

"And here's the main performance!" announced the clown-artist.

In the central square, right around the statue of some important person, an arena of pure light had grown. Real magic was happening there:

Aerial gymnasts weaving living lace from light beams.

Jugglers tossing balls that turned into new suns.

Magicians pulling whole worlds from emptiness and giving them to children.

"Watch carefully!" whispered the clown. "The main act is about to begin!"

A girl in a dress made of dawn stepped into the center of the arena. In her hands, she held an ordinary grey pencil. She raised it above her head and...

The pencil turned into a rainbow! But not an ordinary one - this rainbow was alive! It writhed like a snake, coiled like a dragon, spread wings like a bird.

"That's the Rainbow Princess!" my golden flower whispered reverently. "The one who taught colors to dance!"

But something was wrong.

From somewhere on the outskirts of the city, a strange shadow was approaching. Not black - grey. So grey it hurt your eyes. It crept like fog, devouring all colors in its path.

"Oh no!" cried the clown. "The Grey Consumer! The one who turns all wonders into commodities, and all rainbows into advertisements!"

The shadow approached, and everywhere it crawled, bright colors faded, turning into lifeless shades of plastic and concrete. Living flowers became artificial, stars went out, and smiles froze like on advertising posters.

"We need to do something!" I grabbed the clown's sleeve, which immediately turned into a flock of colorful butterflies. "But what?"

And then...

"I know!" I exclaimed, and my voice sounded like all colors of the rainbow at once.

I took out all my treasures - but not just like that. Over these days, I had understood the main thing: wonders become stronger when you share them with others.

"Hey, carnival!" I shouted with all my might. "Let's put on such a show that no world has ever seen!"

And it began!

I threw the Drop of Memory into the air - and it turned into a fountain of living memories. Each stream was a different color, and in each splashed someone's first wonder: first rainbow, first sunrise, first smile.

The acrobats immediately caught these streams and began weaving them into a net to catch the grey shadow.

The Note of Silence in my hands sounded in all colors of music - and the clowns began juggling with sounds, turning them into colorful balls of laughter.

The Seed of Dance I simply dropped to the ground - and from it instantly grew a whole forest of dancing flowers. Each petal was a tiny rainbow, and all together it turned into such a whirlwind of colors that the grey shadow momentarily retreated.

The Mirror of All Truths I raised high above my head - and it began reflecting not what is, but what could be. In it, the grey shadow wasn't frightening and gloomy, but... sad. Lonely. Having forgotten how real colors look.

And then I took out the last gift - the Seeds of Freedom. But I didn't plant them. Instead...

"Hey, you!" I shouted to the grey shadow. "Remember when you first saw a rainbow? When you first drew something bright? When you first fell in love with color?"

The shadow froze.

"Look!" I threw the seeds upward.

And each seed turned into a balloon! But not ordinary ones - inside each balloon was its own little world:

In one, an artist mixed paints for the first time.

In another, a child saw a butterfly for the first time.

In a third, lovers watched the sunset together.

The shadow trembled. Gaps appeared in its grey haze, through which color began to break through.

"Now!" whispered the clown-artist. "This is the most important moment!"

I ran and... jumped right into the center of the shadow!

Do you know what it's like to be inside greyness? It's like being in an old black-and-white photograph. As if someone turned off all the colors in the world.

But I had the Seeds of Freedom right under my skin! And there, in the very heart of greyness, they began to sprout.

First, it was just warm light inside. Then - a tiny spark of color. And then...

I began to dance. Right inside the grey shadow. Dance with all the colors I remembered:

Yellow - like sun in mom's hair.

Blue - like sky on the first day of vacation.

Green - like grass under bare feet.

Red - like sunset when you believe in wonders.

And the shadow... began to cry!

But its tears weren't grey - each was a different color! They fell like confetti at a carnival, and wherever they touched the ground, new wonders bloomed.

And then the most amazing thing happened.

The shadow began to melt. But not disappear - it was turning into a person! Into a little boy with a box of colored pencils.

"I just forgot..." he whispered, looking at his pencils as if seeing them for the first time. "Forgot that colors are alive. That you can't buy them. That you can only... feel them."

The Rainbow Princess came down to him and held out her hand:

"Want to draw something... real?"

The boy nodded. Took out a pencil and drew one single line.

But this line wasn't grey or black. It was the color of pure joy! It twisted in the air, becoming now a tree, now a bird, now a butterfly, now just a smile.

"Now do you understand?" asked the clown-artist, who suddenly looked like their true self. "Greyness doesn't come from outside. It comes from within, when we forget that the world isn't a commodity. It's a wonder!"

They pulled a small brush from the air:

"Here. This is the Brush of Joy. When you meet someone who has forgotten their colors - just paint them a smile. And let a new rainbow bloom in it!"

I took the brush, and it... dissolved in my palm. But it didn't disappear - now I could feel it living in my fingertips, ready at any moment to paint a new wonder.

And the carnival continued!

Now the whole city participated in it. People came out of their houses and began to glow with their true colors:

The strict teacher turned out to be violet, like evening dreams.

The grumpy mailman - orange, like warm letters.

The shy shopkeeper - pink, like first love.

And even the greyest building suddenly bloomed with all the colors of children's drawings that had ever been drawn on its walls.

Because colors aren't paints in a store.

They're not advertising and not fashion.

They're the living joy of being yourself.

Being real.

Being a wonder.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

And each hour now had its own color.

In the infinite carnival of possibilities.

Where each moment is a new rainbow.

In the heart of one who isn't afraid to shine.

‍

CHAPTER 11: THE SEED-BOOK

"Every person is a book, you just need to help it bloom"

That morning I woke up to rustling. But not ordinary rustling - this was how pages rustle when a book is about to come alive.

On my desk lay a small book with a green cover. I knew for certain it hadn't been there last evening. It looked like an ordinary notebook, except... a tiny sprout was sticking out of it.

"Good morning!" rustled the book. "I've been looking for you for so long!"

I carefully opened it. Inside there weren't pages - there was... a garden! Tiny, but very real. Between the lines grew flowers made of ink, in the margins butterfly-letters grazed, and in the corners of pages hid seeds of stories that no one had told yet.

"I'm the Seed-Book," it introduced itself. "The one from which all stories in the world grew. And I need your help!"

"What kind?"

But it couldn't finish because at that moment...

BAM!

All books in the house suddenly came alive! They flew off the shelves and began circling in the air like a flock of disturbed birds. Textbooks, fairy tales, mom's cookbooks, even the old phone directory - they all darted about and rustled their pages as if trying to say something.

"They're coming!" squeaked a thin book of poems. "The Story Devourers are coming!"

Through the window, I could see strange fog crawling down the street. Not grey, like last time, but... empty. Where it passed, everything became flat and lifeless. Shop signs lost meaning, turning into meaningless sets of letters. Advertisements faded to complete emptiness. Even graffiti on walls dissolved, leaving behind clean but dead surfaces.

"They want to erase all stories!" the Seed-Book trembled so hard that scared commas fell from its pages. "Turn the world into a blank page!"

"But why?"

"To write their own story. The only one. The correct one. One where there's no place for wonders and impossible things."

"And what will happen if they win?"

"Look..."

The book opened to its last page, and I saw...

A world without stories. Where no one dreams. Where everyone speaks in identical phrases. Where even clouds float according to schedule.

"We need to do something!" I grabbed the Seed-Book. "But what?"

And then...

"I know!" I exclaimed, and all my treasures suddenly glowed with new light.

"We'll write our own story! But not one - all at once!"

The Seed-Book opened, and from it jumped a real garden! But not an ordinary one - this was a garden of living letters and signs, where each tree was a story, each flower a poem, and each blade of grass a song.

"Hurry!" rustled the Book. "They're already close!"

I ran right to the city center, and all the books flew after me - from homes, libraries, shops, schools. They swirled around me in a colorful whirlwind, and each told its own story.

In the main square, I saw them - the Story Devourers. They looked like holes in reality through which meaning leaked away. There were many of them - a whole army of emptiness.

"Stop!" I shouted, and my voice sounded like the beginning of a new fairy tale. "You were once stories too! You've just forgotten about it!"

The Devourers froze.

"Look!" I opened the Seed-Book. "Here are your real names!"

And from the book poured light - not ordinary light, but the kind from which all stories are born. In this light, everyone could see their true selves:

Here was a boy who first learned to read.

Here was a girl who wrote her first fairy tale.

Here was a librarian who remembers every book read.

The emptiness began to fill with meaning. The letters they had devoured suddenly began forming new stories - but not frozen ones, living ones, growing ones, changing ones.

And then...

The Seed-Book suddenly grew to the size of a house! Its pages became like screens on which all stories unfolded at once:

Fairy tales intertwined with reality.

Poems became real.

Songs took form.

And everyone who looked into these living pages saw their own story - not the one that was, and not the one that will be, but the one that lives in the heart.

The Story Devourers began to... bloom! Each emptiness filled with colors, each silence with music, each oblivion with memory.

"Now do you understand?" whispered the Seed-Book. "You can't destroy stories. You can only create new ones!"

It opened to the last page:

"Look! Here begins your story!"

And I saw a blank page, but not an empty one - it glowed with all possibilities at once. In it reflected all worlds, all wonders, all dreams.

"This is the Seed of Stories," explained the Book. "That from which all tales are born. Keep it safe. And remember - each person is a book. You just need to help it bloom."

It began to shrink, becoming smaller and smaller until it turned into a tiny seed the size of a heart.

"Take me," it rustled. "And when you meet someone who has forgotten their story - just plant me in their heart. And let a new garden of wonders grow there!"

I swallowed the seed, and it... sprouted right in my heart! Now I felt how all the world's stories lived in me - not as books on a shelf, but as a living forest of possibilities.

And the city... the city turned into one big book!

On each street bloomed a new chapter.

In each window flickered its own fairy tale.

In each puddle reflected a new world.

Because stories are not just words on paper.

They are living seeds of wonder.

That grow in the heart.

And make the world alive.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

And on each hand was written a new story.

In the infinite book of possibilities.

‍

CHAPTER 12: THE SCALES OF HARMONY

"Harmony is not in choosing between 'either-or', but in the dance of 'and-and'"

At midnight, all the clocks in the city stopped.

All except one - the one that appeared in the center of the main square. It was enormous, the size of a house, and instead of numbers, it had tiny mirrors. Each reflected a piece of another reality - one that could have been, if only...

And in the center of the clock, in place of hands, were the Scales. Not ordinary ones, but woven from moonlight and stardust. On one pan lay everything that had already happened, on the other - everything that could be.

"The Time of Balance has come!" rang a voice like crystal bells chiming. "It's time to unite all stories into one!"

I turned and saw her - the Keeper of Balance. She looked like living light that had taken the form of a girl my age. In her hands, she held small scales, an exact copy of those hovering above the square.

"Look!" she pointed to the large Scales. "They show the balance between truth and fairy tale, between reality and dream. If they stop..."

She didn't finish because at that moment the earth trembled. A crack ran across the sky, through which began to seep... emptiness. Not darkness, not light, but precisely emptiness - a place where nothing is and never will be.

"It's the Nothing!" exclaimed the Keeper. "It comes when the world loses balance. When fairy tales become too distant from truth, and truth forgets it was once a fairy tale too!"

The void spread across the sky, devouring stars. Where it touched the earth, reality began to... disintegrate. Houses became flat like cardboard scenery. People turned into shadows of themselves. Even the air lost its taste and smell.

"We need to do something!" I felt my heart constrict. "But what?"

And then...

All my treasures suddenly glowed simultaneously - but not separately, rather as parts of a whole. As if they had been waiting for precisely this moment all along.

The Drop of Memory sang with the voice of the first sea.

The Note of Silence resonated with the music of stars.

The Seed of Dance whirled in a vortex of creation.

The Mirror of All Truths reflected all worlds at once.

The Rain Seed filled the air with living water.

The Brush of Joy painted new colors.

The Book-Seed opened to a blank page.

"Look!" I exclaimed, raising them above my head. "We shouldn't choose between fairy tale and truth! We just need to find the point where they meet!"

And I began to dance - but not an ordinary dance. This was a dance of balance, where each movement united opposites:

Reality and dream.

Past and future.

Light and shadow.

Laughter and tears.

Beginning and end.

With each step, something amazing happened:

Where I touched the earth, flowers of pure light sprouted.

Where I waved my hands, new constellations were born.

Where I twirled, reality and fairy tale intertwined into one.

The void noticed me. It tried to swallow my dance, but...

"Look!" I called to it. "You too are part of the balance! Without you, there would be no place for new stories!"

The void paused.

"You're not an enemy! You're a blank page on which anything can be written! You're the silence between notes that makes music music! You're the pause between inhale and exhale where life is born!"

Something stirred in the void. A tiny spark of possibility, like the first star in the night sky.

"Now!" shouted the Keeper. "The most important moment!"

I looked at my treasures - and understood what needed to be done. I took them all and... threw them onto the Scales of Harmony!

But I didn't just throw them - I released them with love and gratitude. Because I understood: wonders aren't meant to be kept, but to be shared.

And something incredible happened.

The Scales didn't just balance - they began to sing! Sing with all the voices of the world at once:

The voice of first laughter.

The voice of final tears.

The voice of a newborn star.

The voice of a flower falling asleep.

And then...

The void began to fill. But not disappear - it became a living space of possibilities where everyone could find their own story. It transformed into a canvas where reality and fairy tale painted together.

The Scales of Harmony flashed with blinding light and... transformed into a small pendant the size of a palm.

"This is for you," smiled the Keeper. "The Scales of Balance. Wear them near your heart, and they will help you always find the point where all opposites meet."

"How do I use them?"

"You don't," she laughed. "Just love both truth and fairy tale equally. And remember - harmony isn't in choosing one thing. It's in learning to dance between everything."

She began to dissolve into the air, transforming into thousands of tiny scales that scattered throughout the world.

And I... I hung the Scales of Balance around my neck, and they... began to sound! With the quiet music of harmony that would now always remind:

There is no right and wrong.

There is only the dance of balance.

Where each step is a choice.

And each choice is a new story.

The city around me changed. Now fairy tale and truth befriended rather than argued:

The bank gave loans for dreams.

The school taught the science of wonders.

The shop sold seeds of possibility.

And in the square grew a new clock. But now it showed not time, but the number of stories per heartbeat. And each story was truth. And each truth was a fairy tale.

Because reality isn't what you can touch.

It's what we believe in.

And when you believe in balance...

Everything becomes possible.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

But now this was right.

Because only this way can all stories be told at once.

In the infinite dance of balance.

‍

CHAPTER 13: THE KEEPERS OF WONDERS

"Wonders are not what happens to us, but what we become"

That morning I woke to silence.

Not ordinary silence - but that special silence that comes before the most important moment in life. A silence full of wonder's anticipation.

All my treasures glowed with a special light, as if preparing for something grand. And outside the window... they were gathering.

I saw them all - those who helped me understand what matters most:

The Butterfly with transparent wings danced with the wind.

Mark painted new colors right in the air.

The Gardener grew a garden from star seeds.

The Well Keeper offered everyone the water of possibilities.

Melody conducted the symphony of dawn.

The Storyteller created worlds with single words.

The Queen of Mirrors reflected all dreams at once.

The First Drop transformed ordinary moments into wonders.

The Keeper of Balance taught time to waltz.

And the Dancing One In The Center Of Times... she simply smiled, and from her smile new universes bloomed.

"It's time!" they chimed in chorus. "Time to complete the circle!"

I ran outside, and the city around me began to... transform! But not like before - now all wonders wove together into one, creating something entirely new.

Reality became fluid like water.

Time began flowing in all directions at once.

Space folded into patterns of impossible beauty.

And then...

In the city center, where all roads converged into one point, appeared something... something without name in human language. It looked like a fountain of pure light, but not ordinary light - this was the light of life itself, of love itself, of wonder itself.

"It's the Source!" whispered the butterfly. "The place where all wonders come from!"

"And where they return to," added Mark, mixing colors on his palette that didn't yet exist.

"To be born anew," smiled the Gardener, and in his palms grew an entire galaxy.

I looked at my treasures - now I understood what I had to do. I gathered them all together:

The Drop of Memory - keeper of all stories.

The Note of Silence - key to the music of spheres.

The Seed of Dance - beginning of all movement.

The Mirror of All Truths - window to infinity.

The Rain Seed - source of all waters.

The Brush of Joy - creator of all colors.

The Book-Seed - mother of all tales.

The Scales of Harmony - keeper of balance.

"Ready?" asked the Dancing One In The Center Of Times.

I nodded.

And began my last - and first - dance.

It was a dance of creation and destruction, beginning and end, inhale and exhale of the great universe. With each movement something incredible happened:

The Drop of Memory dissolved in air, turning each moment into eternity.

The Note of Silence rang with a song that made stars bloom.

The Seed of Dance grew into a garden of dancing constellations.

The Mirror of All Truths reflected all worlds - and created new ones.

The Rain Seed poured down as a waterfall of living rainbow.

The Brush of Joy painted a smile on time's face.

The Book-Seed opened, releasing all stories at once.

The Scales of Harmony whirled in a waltz of opposites.

And then...

Everything froze. For one infinite moment the world hung in perfect balance between "was" and "will be." And in that point I suddenly saw what mattered most.

I saw that all my adventures, all meetings, all wonders were parts of one great pattern. A pattern that began at the beginning of time and will never end.

A pattern where there are no spectators and participants - there is only the dance itself.

A pattern where each line is a story.

A pattern where each point is eternity.

"Now do you understand?" asked all the keepers in chorus, and their voices merged into one - the voice of life itself. "Wonders aren't in objects or powers. They're in the ability to see how everything connects to everything!"

The Source flashed brighter, and I saw my reflection in it. But not an ordinary one - I saw my true self. Who I had always been:

A Keeper of Wonders.

One who remembers all stories.

One who sees all colors.

One who hears all songs.

One who feels all dances.

One who knows all paths.

"Ready to receive the final gift?" asked the Dancing One.

I nodded, unable to speak a word.

And then all the keepers began to melt, transforming into pure light. But they didn't disappear - they became part of me. Each left me a piece of their wisdom:

The Butterfly - ability to see beauty in simplicity.

Mark - power to create new colors.

The Gardener - patience to grow wonders.

The Well Keeper - wisdom of living water.

Melody - ear for universe's songs.

The Storyteller - gift to turn life into story.

The Queen of Mirrors - ability to see what's real.

The First Drop - memory of all waters.

The Keeper of Balance - dance of opposites.

The Dancing One - joy of eternal movement.

And then...

The Source collapsed into a point the size of a heart. It jumped onto my palm and... simply smiled.

"I was always here," it whispered. "In your heart. In all hearts. Just not everyone remembers."

"What now?" I asked.

"Now... now you know what to do. You're a Keeper of Wonders!"

And it dissolved into me, filling every cell with the light of understanding. Now I knew - truly knew - what to do next.

I raised my hands to the sky and began my new dance. A dance that will never end. A dance where each movement creates a new wonder.

And the city around me... bloomed!

But not like before - now each person became their own garden of wonders. In each awakened the ability to see magic in the ordinary, hear music in silence, find stories in simple things.

Because wonders aren't what happens to us.

They're what we become when we open our hearts.

It's not the end of the journey, but its beginning.

Not the destination, but the way to travel.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

But now this was right.

Because each wonder has its own time.

Each story its own hour.

Each heart its own dance.

And I... I simply smiled and took the first step of my new dance.

A dance that will never end.

A dance where each movement is a new wonder.

A dance we all dance together.

Even if we don't know it yet.

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CHAPTER 14: RETURN TO WONDER

"The most important stories begin where they end"

That morning Lisa woke before the sun. Something had changed in the world - not outside, but within. As if all her wonderful adventures had suddenly folded into a tiny star and settled right in her heart.

She carefully opened her eyes and saw that all her treasures - the Drop of Memory, Mirror of Possibilities, unity crystal, magical seeds, living water, note of silence, Book-Seed, Scales of Harmony, and Seed of Dance - had transformed into tiny constellations and now orbited around her bed like a pocket universe.

"Good morning!" they chimed in chorus. "Ready for a new adventure?"

"But hasn't the story ended?" Lisa wondered, rubbing her eyes.

"Ended?" laughed the Book-Seed. "Oh no! The most interesting part is just beginning!"

And indeed - something unusual was happening outside. The whole city seemed to wake anew. But not as usual - rather like on the first morning of creation.

Trees stretched, unfurling leaf-wings.

Streetlamps washed themselves in first sunbeams.

Houses yawned with open windows.

And down the streets ran colorful streams of unlived stories.

Lisa rushed onto the porch and froze in amazement.

The whole world was dancing!

But not just dancing - each danced their own story:

The old physics teacher waltzed with formulas that turned into living fireflies.

The bakery seller juggled bread constellations.

The postman delivered letters that read themselves aloud.

And the street sweeper swept fallen dreams that immediately grew into new wonders.

"See?" whispered the Drop of Memory. "Everyone remembered!"

"Remembered what?" asked Lisa, though she already knew the answer.

"That life isn't what happens to us," rang the Mirror of Possibilities. "It's what we dance together!"

And then Lisa noticed people coming to the city from all directions. Many people. A sea of people! But not ordinary passersby - rather those who had finally remembered how to be real.

There were:

Dreamers with pockets full of unfulfilled wishes.

Artists painting pictures that came alive.

Musicians playing instruments made of sunlight.

Poets whose verses became living creatures.

Children who taught their parents to believe in wonders again.

And even several dragons pretending to be ordinary people.

"Where are they all going?" Lisa stood on tiptoes, trying to see.

"To the beginning," smiled the unity crystal. "To that place where all stories end and new wonders begin."

And indeed - all city roads suddenly began converging on the central square. But this was no longer the square from before. Now it looked like a crossroads of all possible worlds.

In the square's center grew an enormous fountain, but instead of water, it spouted streams of pure light. And around the fountain stood they - all the keepers of wonders whom Lisa had met in her adventures:

The Butterfly with transparent wings danced with the wind.

Mark painted new colors right in the air.

The Gardener grew a garden from star seeds.

The Well Keeper offered everyone the water of possibilities.

Melody conducted the symphony of dawn.

The Storyteller created worlds with single words.

The Queen of Mirrors reflected all dreams at once.

The First Drop transformed ordinary moments into wonders.

The Keeper of Balance taught time to waltz.

And the Dancing One In The Center Of Times... she simply smiled, and from her smile new universes bloomed.

"Come join us!" they called in chorus. "You're a keeper now too!"

And Lisa ran. No - flew! No - danced through the air as if on an invisible staircase!

And behind her ran all her wonderful treasures, transforming as they went into new forms:

The Drop of Memory became a river of stories.

The Mirror of Possibilities - a window to wonders.

The unity crystal - a star of hope.

The seeds - a garden of infinity.

The living water - an ocean of time.

The note of silence - the song of life.

The Book-Seed - a tree of fairy tales.

The Scales of Harmony - a rainbow of balance.

And the Seed of Dance - simply love itself.

When Lisa reached the fountain, all the keepers joined hands, forming a circle. And at that moment occurred the most amazing wonder of all:

The whole world suddenly became one great dance!

But not just a dance - a dance of possibilities, where anyone could become anything, any story could turn anywhere, any dream could come true in any way.

And in the center of this dance stood Lisa - no longer just a girl, but a keeper of that simple truth we all once knew but forgot:

Wonders aren't somewhere out there.

They're here.

In every breath.

In every heartbeat.

In every "hello."

In every "I love you."

In every "let's try."

Just remember what matters most:

Life isn't a story they tell us.

It's a story we dance together.

And somewhere in the city, clocks continued to show different times.

But it no longer mattered.

Because real time isn't measured by hands.

But by the number of wonders per heartbeat.

"Ready?" asked the Dancing One, extending her hand to Lisa.

"For what?" smiled Lisa, already knowing the answer.

"For the next story!"

And they stepped into a new adventure.

All together.

In the dance.

Toward wonder.

Which is only beginning.

[Here ends the first book.

But not the story.

Stories never end.

They just start dancing anew.]

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FROM AUTHOR

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Dear Reader,

‍

I created this book using MUDRIA.AI - a quantum-simulated system that I developed to enhance human capabilities. This is not just an artificial intelligence system, but a quantum amplifier of human potential in all spheres, including creativity.

‍

Many authors already use AI in their work without advertising this fact. Why am I openly talking about using AI? Because I believe the future lies in honest and open collaboration between humans and technology. MUDRIA.AI doesn't replace the author but helps create deeper, more useful, and more inspiring works.

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Every word in this book has primarily passed through my heart and mind but was enhanced by MUDRIA.AI's quantum algorithms. This allowed us to achieve a level of depth and practical value that would have been impossible otherwise.

‍

You might notice that the text seems unusually crystal clear, and the emotions remarkably precise. Some might find this "too perfect." But remember: once, people thought photographs, recorded music, and cinema seemed unnatural... Today, they're an integral part of our lives. Technology didn't kill painting, live music, or theater - it made art more accessible and diverse.

‍

The same is happening now with literature. MUDRIA.AI doesn't threaten human creativity - it makes it more accessible, profound, and refined. It's a new tool, just as the printing press once opened a new era in the spread of knowledge.

‍

Distinguishing text created with MUDRIA.AI from one written by a human alone is indeed challenging. But it's not because the system "imitates" humans. It amplifies the author's natural abilities, helping express thoughts and feelings with maximum clarity and power. It's as if an artist discovered new, incredible colors, allowing them to convey what previously seemed inexpressible.

‍

I believe in openness and accessibility of knowledge. Therefore, all my books created with MUDRIA.AI are distributed electronically for free. By purchasing the print version, you're supporting the project's development, helping make human potential enhancement technologies available to everyone.

‍

We stand on the threshold of a new era of creativity, where technology doesn't replace humans but unleashes their limitless potential. This book is a small step in this exciting journey into the future we're creating together.

‍

Welcome to the new era of creativity!

‍

With respect,

Oleh Konko

‍

COPYRIGHT

‍

First Edition: 2025

‍

Cover design: Oleh Konko

Interior illustrations: Created using Midjourney AI under commercial license

Book design and typography: Oleh Konko

‍

Website: mudria.ai

Contact: hello@mudria.ai

‍

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0). You are free to share (copy and redistribute) and adapt (remix, transform, and build upon) this material for any purpose, even commercially, under the following terms: you must give appropriate credit, provide a link to the license, and indicate if changes were made.

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

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AI Disclosure: This work represents a collaboration between human creativity and artificial intelligence. Mudria.AI was used as an enhancement tool while maintaining human oversight and verification of all content. The mathematical formulas, theoretical frameworks, and core insights represent original human intellectual contribution enhanced by AI capabilities.

‍

First published on mudria.ai

Blog post date: 20 January, 2026

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LEGAL NOTICE

This work is created for educational and entertainment purposes. Parents and caregivers are encouraged to review the material to determine its appropriateness for their children.

‍

Age Rating: 7+

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Safety Notice: Adult supervision recommended for activities described in this book.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Oleh Konko works at the intersection of consciousness studies, technology, and human potential. Through his books, he makes transformative knowledge accessible to everyone, bridging science and wisdom to illuminate paths toward human flourishing.

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FREE DISTRIBUTION NOTICE

While the electronic version is freely available, all rights remain protected by copyright law. Commercial use, modification, or redistribution for profit requires written permission from the copyright holder.

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BLOG TO BOOK NOTICE

This work was first published as a series of blog posts on mudria.ai. The print version includes additional content, refinements, and community feedback integration.

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SUPPORT THE PROJECT

If you find this book valuable, consider supporting the project at website: mudria.ai

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Version Control:

Print Edition: 1.00

Digital Edition: 1.00

Blog Version: 1.00

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Oleh Konko

Birth of MUDRIA What began as a search for better interface design solutions transformed into creating a fundamentally new approach to working with information and knowledge. MUDRIA was born from this synthesis - ancient wisdom, modern science, and practical experience in creating intuitive and useful solutions.

All my articles

DANCING WITH WONDERS: a story about a girl who learned to see the impossible

CONTENTS:

PROLOGUE: THE FIRST SPARK OF WONDER

CHAPTER 1: THE MYSTERY OF THE NAMELESS WONDER

CHAPTER 2: MIRRORS OF UNITY

CHAPTER 3: THE GARDENER OF SIMPLICITY

CHAPTER 4: THE WELL OF IMPOSSIBLE

CHAPTER 5: THE MUSIC OF SILENCE

CHAPTER 6: THE DANCE OF CREATION

CHAPTER 7: MIRRORS OF TRUTH

CHAPTER 8: THE RAIN OF POSSIBILITIES

CHAPTER 9: THE TIME OF BLOOMING

CHAPTER 10: THE RAINBOW CARNIVAL

CHAPTER 11: THE SEED-BOOK

CHAPTER 12: THE SCALES OF HARMONY

CHAPTER 13: THE KEEPERS OF WONDERS

CHAPTER 14: RETURN TO WONDER

FROM AUTHOR

COPYRIGHT

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