Anna and the Song in Her Tummy

Anna was always singing — but only very quietly. So quietly that nobody could hear her. Under the bedcovers. In the bathroom. When the water was running.

Today was Grandma's birthday. There were flowers in a blue vase in the living room. The cake smelled of vanilla and lemon. Candles flickered softly.

Anna wanted to sing Grandma a song. A very special song. She had practised it for a long time. But every time she opened her mouth, the song got stuck.

“My throat feels tickly,” she whispered. “And my tummy feels all tight.”

“I know that feeling,” said a warm voice.

Anna looked around. A little creature was sitting on her songbook. Small and orange and friendly. His scales shimmered like honey in the sunshine.

“I'm Luminos,” said the dragon. He bowed politely.

Anna stared in wonder. “What? A real dragon?”

“Yes. But an unusual one.” Luminos chuckled softly. “I can't breathe fire. Every time I try, words come out instead. Sometimes whole stories. At first, I thought it was dreadful. All the other dragons could make fire. I could only make... stories.”

Anna frowned. “But stories are lovely.”

“Yes,” Luminos said gently. “That's what I think now too. But first I had to believe it myself. I hid away for a long time. I thought my words were too small. Too shaky. Too quiet.”

Anna nodded. That was exactly how she felt.

“And do you know what I learnt?” asked Luminos. He flew in a little circle around Anna's head. “My words don't have to be like fire. They just have to come from me. That's enough.”

He landed very carefully on her shoulder. His scales felt warm, like a sunbeam.

“Your voice belongs to you, Anna. It's yours, and yours alone. Grandma isn't waiting for perfect singing. She's waiting for you.”

Anna looked towards the door. She could hear Grandma's voice in the kitchen. She was laughing about something. Anna had known that laugh for as long as she could remember.

“But what if I sing out of tune?” Anna asked.

“Then you'll sing out of tune,” said Luminos. “That's a sound too. And someone who loves you isn't listening to the notes. They're listening to your heart.”

Anna thought for a long time. She put a hand on her tummy. The tight knot softened a little.

She took a deep breath. Once. Twice. Three times. Then she opened her mouth.

The first notes trembled. Like little birds flying for the first time. Then they grew bigger. And warmer. And rounder.

Grandma came into the living room. She stopped in the doorway. She put her hands over her heart.

Anna kept singing. Her voice grew steadier. At the end, she sang the very last note out loud.

When she finished, Grandma had tears in her eyes. The good kind.

“That was the loveliest birthday present,” Grandma said softly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hugged Anna tightly. There was the smell of Grandma's lavender soap.

Luminos smiled and slowly floated away. Golden words drifted down behind him. And Anna sang the song once more — this time without fear.