Reaching for the handle and drawing the violin case to herself, Eny flipped up the brass clasps. Gently she raised the beloved instrument from its red velvet nest. Cradling it in the crook of her left arm, she held its sleek, polished body to her cheek. She closed her eyes and savored the fragrance of wood and glue emanating from the f-holes.

Who needs an invisibility cloak when you’ve got music? she thought with a smile. Music is the only real magic in the world after all!

Then again, maybe that wasn’t strictly true. There was, after all, the magic of the miraculous bolg. And what incredible magic it was! Without the bolg she wouldn’t have the fiddle! How had the Bag People ever managed to contrive such a marvel? A small leather pouch capable of containing the whole world!

Inner space has no boundaries! she mused, recalling a line from one of Rev. Alcuin’s sermons. That’s the real miracle. The true marvel is that this bag is just like me—like a person’s soul! Lumpy, dumpy, and squashed on the outside. Unlimited on the inside! Who would have thought that somebody could put so much stuff in one little bag? Who can understand what it means to have a kingdom inside of you? Not the Morrigu!

As these ideas ricocheted from one side of her brain to the other, Eny felt her heart begin to stir. Within a few moments it was leaping and soaring. She picked up her bow, tightened the horsehair, and applied the rosin.

She put me in this hole. She thought she could lock me away from the beauty of the world. But she doesn’t know that the world is inside me—even here, in this dank pit where the sun never shines! And she can’t do anything to change it!

With that, she touched the bow to the strings.

What was that?

Letting the bow fall to her side, she cocked her head to listen.

Tap, tap, tap.  

A sound! A sound was coming from the other side of the wall!

(To be continued …)