Mina and the Star Key, Part 5: The Missing Colour

Mina and the Star Key, Part 5: The Missing Colour

The Story Begins

In the evening, the garden by the house felt soft and smelled of grass. Mina ran along the path in her little red boots. Her mustard-yellow jacket puffed out like a small sail as she ran. Piko, a tiny golden butterfly with shining wings, sat on her shoulder.

Then the small silver star key in Mina’s pocket stirred.

Clink.

Mina stopped beside an old bush. Between two branches, she found a tiny wooden door that certainly had not been there during the day. The key fit it perfectly.

When she turned the key, the little door opened without a sound.

Behind it was a garden. And yet it was not quite the same garden. The grass was softer, the flowers were bigger, and the drops on the leaves shone like glass beads.

“Look!” said Mina. “Piko, look. That rose is almost white.”

She leaned closer. A drop lay on a pink petal, but it was not blue or silver. It looked dull, as if someone had forgotten to shine a light on it.

A little farther away, the bellflowers were fading. Even the small pond by the stones had greyish water. There was usually a piece of bright evening sky between the branches. Now there was only an empty, pale space.

“Where is the blue?” Mina whispered.

Piko fluttered his wings. His warm golden light trembled over the leaves. Then he looked beneath a large hosta leaf.

“Maybe it is tiny,” he squeaked.

Mina immediately knelt in the grass. She looked beneath the leaf. Then behind a little stone. Then into a dry crack beside the path.

“Bluuuue!” she called. “Come out! We’re looking for you!”

Just then, a tiny fluff of seeds rose from the grass and floated away. The drop on the petal trembled, but the blue did not appear.

“I think it is hiding very well,” said Piko.

“Then we’ll find it very quickly,” Mina decided.

She ran to the pond. Something flashed in the water for a moment. It was a faint bluish glimmer, as thin as a hair.

“There!” she cried, reaching out her hand.

But the glimmer vanished.

Mina furrowed her brow. She tried looking among the petals of a purple flower. On one petal was a cool shadow, a little blue. But when the little girl leaned in too quickly, the shadow slipped beneath a leaf.

“It keeps running away from me,” she said.

Piko sat on a little stone. “Maybe it isn’t running away,” he squeaked. “Maybe it just doesn’t like stomp-stomp.”

Mina looked at her red boots. She had been tapping them impatiently against the path.

“I don’t stomp very much,” she said more quietly.

Piko tilted his head. “Just a little too much.”

That made Mina laugh. But then she looked at the pale garden again. She wanted the drops to be blue right away. She wanted the sky between the branches to be blue right away. But the faster she walked, the fewer hints of blue she saw.

A little later, she noticed a bench beneath a fragrant bush. It was low and round, just right for a little girl.

“I’ll sit down for a moment,” she said. “But only for a tiny moment.”

She sat down and placed her hands in her lap. Piko flew to her shoulder.

“Breathe slowly,” he squeaked.

Mina breathed in through her nose. The air smelled of mint and earth after the evening dew. Then she breathed out.

She breathed in once more.

Meanwhile, the garden grew quiet. The leaves moved only slightly. From far away came the soft drip-drip of a little fountain. Piko said nothing more. Neither did Mina.

When Things Start to Change

Just then, a tiny dot of blue light appeared in a drop on the grass.

Mina did not jump. She only opened her eyes a little wider.

Beside the drop, a pale blue stripe appeared on a bellflower petal. It was not a shadow. It looked like a piece of silk ribbon moving very slowly.

“I see you,” Mina whispered.

The blue stripe rippled.

Only then did she notice that there were more tiny stripes in the garden. One slept in a drop. Another hid between two petals. A third curled up in the cool shadow beneath a leaf. Together, they made a soft blue veil: a little living colour that could fold itself up and hide in the tiniest places.

Mina slowly rose from the bench. She placed her boots on the path so carefully that not even a pebble made a sound.

“I won’t chase you,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I’m only looking.”

At first, the blue veil trembled a little. Then it drew itself out of the drops like thin mist. It drifted past Mina’s hand without touching her and settled on the edge of a leaf.

Piko glowed happily.

“Quiet suits it,” he squeaked.

After a while, the blue spread farther. First, it returned to the drops. Each one gained a cool, bright gleam. Then it traced the edges of the bellflowers and gave the pond a soft blue reflection. At last, a small piece of sky appeared between the branches, calm and clear.

The garden was not loud or bright. It was simply whole again.

Mina smiled. “You were here all along.”

The blue veil swirled above the leaf, as if nodding. Then it divided into tiny sparkles and hid where it belonged: in the drops, in the flowers, in the shadows, and in the sky.

By the little door, Piko snuggled closer to Mina’s neck. Beyond it, the ordinary garden by the house waited, quiet in the evening.

“Shall we go?” Mina asked.

Piko blinked. “Slowly.”

When she passed through the little door, the silver star key gave a gentle clink. It slipped by itself into the pocket of her mustard-yellow jacket, right where it belonged.

Mina looked back once more. A soft blue gleam remained on one leaf by the bush. It did not move. It simply glowed peacefully in the coming night.

The little girl blew it a kiss from her palm. Then she and Piko set off for home, quietly and slowly, ready for sleep.