THE DANCING MUSIC FLUTE AT THE LAKE SIDE

THE DANCING MUSIC FLUTE AT THE LAKESIDE

At the edge of the lake, where’s the water slept like polished mirror and the moon laid silver paths upon its skin, there was a sound no one could explain.

It began as a whisper.

Each night, when the frogs fell silent and the wind held its breath, a flute would sing from somewhere near the reeds. Its music did not rush—it danced. The notes skipped across the lake like smooth stones, rising and falling, calling the water to ripple and sway.
The elders said the flute belonged to the lake itself.
Long ago, before paths were carved into the forest, a young flutist named Aro lived by the water. He played not for praise or coins, but to speak with nature. His flute was carved from moon-fed bamboo, hollowed while he listened to the lake’s heartbeat. When he played, fish leapt in silver arcs, fireflies spun in glowing circles, and even the stars seemed to lean

closer.

But one season, a great drought came. The lake shrank, the reeds cracked, and the animals fled. Desperate, Aro played night and day, pouring his breath, his strength, and finally his spirit into the flute. On the last night, as the moon drowned itself in clouds, Aro stepped into the lake and played one final song—a song of life, water, and return.

By dawn, the lake was full again.

Aro was gone.

Since then, on nights when the moon is round and the world is quiet, the flute returns. No hands hold it. It floats just above the water, turning slowly, as if guided by unseen dancers. The music makes the lake shimmer, and the reeds bend like they are bowing. Anyone who listens too closely feels their feet move on their own, swaying at the shoreline, hearts beating in time with the melody.
One evening, a curious girl named Lina followed the sound. Instead of fear, she felt warmth. She danced—not to be taken, not to be lost—but to listen. The flute’s song softened, wrapping around her like a blessing. When the final note faded, the lake was still, and Lina understood.
The music was not calling people away.
It was reminding them to stay connected—to the water, to the earth, and to the quiet magic that lives where humans choose to listen.
And so, even now, when the night is kind and the lake is calm, the dancing music flute sings—keeping the ancient rhythm alive at the water’s edge. 🌙🎶