Some people listen to music…
Others feel it.
But some…
never become enemies —
just because they once heard… a melody."
---
Near the jungle lay a small village: Fenvale.
Strange place.
People spoke less.
Doors shut early.
And every child… slept with fear in their eyes.
Papa asked one of the elders:
> "Has something happened here?"
An old woman replied:
> "On every full moon night…
a beast comes.
One that no music can stop."
---
Mother looked at me.
I didn't say anything.
But something inside stirred…
> "Music can do anything, right?"
"Then why… won't it stop this beast?"
---
That night, the villagers told us not to perform.
But Papa — as always — smiled.
> "We'll sing.
And if the beast comes…
Noen will stop it."
Everyone turned to me.
Lio clutched his drum, grinning,
"Bhaiya, do we fight the beast?"
I didn't reply.
I just picked up my flute.
And walked to the stage.
---
The flute began with a slow lullaby.
A tune that held both pain… and peace.
The crowd went still.
Then…
The air shifted.
---
From the jungle —
a growl tore through the wind.
"Grrrhhhhh… raaAAA!"
People screamed.
A massive shadow neared the stage.
A magical beast — wolf-like.
Eyes blood-red.
Fangs sharp.
Burning breath steaming in the air.
Lio yelled,
> "Bhaiya! It breathes fire too!"
Mother gave me a look.
> "Noen. Now."
---
I stepped down, standing in front of the beast.
Its eyes locked onto mine.
I didn't run.
I began to sing.
---
> "You've felt pain… haven't you?
I know how that feels."
> "You've been alone… haven't you?
So was I, once."
> "You screamed…
But no one listened…"
> "So I'm singing now…
Maybe you'll stop."
---
The beast took a step forward…
Then another…
Then…
Stopped.
Its breathing was heavy.
But its eyes — slowly… calmed.
The full moon above.
The stage below.
And in between:
a boy singing…
and a beast crying.
---
It let out one last roar —
then turned
and ran back into the jungle.
It didn't touch a single soul.
The crowd was stunned.
Silent.
Frozen.
Mother whispered,
> "Your song reached the jungle tonight, my son."
---
Later that night, an old villager came to me.
He folded his hands and said:
> "You turned its rage… into grief."
I didn't respond.
I simply wrote one line in my diary:
> "Music doesn't just stop people…
Sometimes, it quiets monsters too."
---
To be continued…