The Feeling and Power of a Small Tone - Peťko rozprávkár

In the enormous hall full of lights and quiet murmur, musical instruments were gathering. They took their places on the stage, greeted each other, and prepared for the great concert. Velvet chairs rustled, violins gently plucked their strings to tune themselves, and flutes quietly whistled cheerful melodies.

In the midst of all this bustle, on a small stand, hung Tinkle. He was a tiny, shiny metal triangle that glittered in the spotlight. While other instruments spoke with deep, cheerful, or gentle voices, Tinkle was silent. He felt very, very small and unimportant.

"Oh," he sighed so quietly that no one heard him. "The cello has such a deep and wise voice. The violins can cry and laugh. And the flute sings like a bird in spring. And me? I can only make one short, weak 'tink'."

Just then, a mighty, warm tone sounded. It was Mr. Cello bowing and playing a long, soothing note. Tinkle gathered his courage. When the musicians left for a short break, he jumped down from his stand and rolled all the way to the large wooden instrument.

"Please, Mr. Cello," asked Tinkle in a thin voice, "why is your sound so beautiful and long, while mine is just a short tink?"

Mr. Cello looked at him kindly. "You know, little friend," he spoke in a slow, deep voice, "my body is large and wooden and I have thick strings. When the bow passes over them, they vibrate and the sound echoes in my body for a long time. It's like when you throw a pebble into a large lake – the waves spread far and wide."

Tinkle thanked him and rolled on. His tink certainly wasn't like a wave on a lake. It was more like a raindrop.

Suddenly he heard cheerful laughter. It was Flora the flute playing with a beam of light that fell on the stage.

"Hello, Flora!" greeted Tinkle. "May I ask you something? How is it that your voice is so cheerful and can dance in the air?"

"That's simple!" laughed Flora, and her voice sounded like bird chatter. "The musician blows air into me. That air spins inside me and whistles little songs. I'm like the wind playing in treetops."

Tinkle pondered again. He didn't work on breath either. His sound was different. He felt even more lost. Just as he was passing by the back of the stage, there was a deafening "BOOM!" Tinkle jumped up in fright. Before him stood the enormous Big Drum.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," rumbled the Drum friendlily. "I'm just practicing my rhythm."

"Rhythm?" asked Tinkle. "You don't play melodies?"

"No," replied the Drum proudly. "I am the heart of the entire orchestra. I keep the right beat so everyone plays together and no one gets lost. My beat is like a firm step that leads everyone forward."

Tinkle was confused. Every instrument had its important role. One was like a lake, another like wind, a third like a heart. And him? He was just a tiny, lonely tink. He sat down in the shadow and was very sad.

Then the conductor returned. She was a wise lady with kind eyes and a baton in her hand that looked like a magic wand. She immediately noticed that something was missing from the small stand.

"Where is our Tinkle?" she asked into the silence. Her eyes swept across the stage and spotted the small, sad triangle hidden behind a chair. She bent down to him.

"What's wrong, Tinkle? Why aren't you in your place?"

"Because I'm worthless," whispered the triangle. "My sound is too short and quiet. I'm not important like the others."

The conductor smiled. "You think so? Come, let me show you something."

She took Tinkle and placed him back on his stand. Then she turned to the orchestra. "Friends, we'll play that cheerful piece about the sunny morning. But this time without the triangle."

The orchestra began to play. The music was beautiful, the melody flowed, the rhythm was precise. They played really well. But still... something was missing. It was as if you were eating the most delicious cake, but it was missing the final, sweet cherry on top.

"Good," said the conductor. "And now once more, with Tinkle too. Tinkle, get ready!"

The orchestra began to play again. The music flowed, full of colors and joy. The conductor watched the notes and at one moment, when the music quieted for a brief moment, she looked directly at Tinkle and nodded with her baton.

Tinkle knew it was his moment. He took a deep breath, though he didn't need breath, and the musician gently struck him with the mallet.

"TINK!"

That sound was clear, pure, and penetrating. It flew through the entire hall like a small, brilliant spark. Like a star that suddenly lit up in the dark sky. All the other sounds seemed to be waiting for this spark and immediately after it, they played even more joyfully.

When the piece ended, the conductor smiled at Tinkle.

"You see? Your high, clear tone is like that spark. You don't need to play long melodies. Your role is to shine at the right moment and give the music brightness and magic. And did you notice the silence just before you played?"

Tinkle nodded.

"That silence, that pause, is equally important," the conductor continued. "It prepares everyone for your arrival. In music, not only sound is important, but also silence. Every tone and every pause has its precise place. Without you, our music wouldn't be perfect."

Tinkle looked at the other instruments. Mr. Cello winked at him encouragingly. Flora the flute sent him a cheerful airy kiss. And the Big Drum drummed approvingly.

In that moment, Tinkle understood. He no longer felt small or unimportant. He was proud of his glittering body and his one single, but all the more precious tone. He knew that his place in the orchestra was irreplaceable. And from then on, he never again doubted that even the smallest tink could be the most beautiful star in the entire symphony.