Dondobee

By Dale Parry

• Language: English
• Publisher: Global Summit House
• Release date: Jun 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781649212221

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Dondobee

Or The Adventures Of A Leolian Elf

Dale Parry

Copyright © Dale Parry.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN: 978-1-64921-223-8 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-64921-224-5 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-64921-222-1 (E-book Edition)

Some characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Book Ordering Information

Phone Number: 347-901-4929 or 347-901-4920

Email: [e-mail]

Global Summit House

www.globalsummithouse.com

Printed in the United States of America

"To My Vassar girl Lucy

and

To my Wellesley girl Rhoda"

In a time long ago, in a village on a lovely velvety green, a dirty little urchin lived in a black back alley. They called him Coal because he was so very, very dirty. But, he was a happy boy. He did what boys do. He’d fish in the cold brook. He’d catch frogs. Catch fireflies in a jar. Or chase butterflies. Most of the time he would just sit under an elm tree on the village green, daydreaming.

One day while daydreaming, Coal heard music in his head that he had never heard before. Made by a musical instrument he had never seen before. He set about to build the strange instrument. His favorite place was on a hilltop south of the village where the cold brook ran. From there he could see over the towering elms, beyond to the mountains. There he could work bothered by no one.

He worked expertly. He slept when he became tired. No one was there to send him to bed. He ate when he got hungry. No one was there to make him eat dinner. Finally he finished. The long neck of the instrument was secured tightly to a box with a round hole in it. Four thin strings stretched across the box to the end of the neck. He played the instrument by drawing a bow across the tight strings. At first it sounded terrible! The noise frightened the birds away. Horses reared on their hind legs and bolted across the fields. Villagers ran into their houses, bolting the doors.

Coal practiced. And practiced. And practiced some more. Soon the sound was the same he had heard in his head. All the creatures of the forest came to listen. The birds returned. They stayed as long as Coal played. Ooohing and aaahing with each spectacular run. The bow went so fast, it sparkled in the night.

One night as Coal played, two big sets of curious green eyes peered from the deep wood darkness. Their pointy ears twitched in time with