The City of Dreams: A Magical Tale of Christmas and a Kingdom United
Twinkling lights glowed across the quaint village nestled in the valley of the river Arno. The tall pine trees swayed gently in the snowy wind, their needles scented with freshness, and small magical bulbs atop each branch blinked in and out like fireflies. The air was cold and pure, the kind that wrapped words in frost and whisked them away into the silence of winter. Christmas was near, and the magic of the season had already taken root.
Mary stood in the snow with her friends Zara and Shushan, their breath fogging the air as they laughed and gestured animatedly. Words were hard to hear in the howling wind, but their hearts were light. Without warning, Mary scooped up a huge snowball and hurled it at her friends, sending a burst of snow into the air.
“Hey!” Zara squealed, shaking the snow from her shoulders as she pulled Mary into a tight, giggling hug. “We were just saying—look over there!”
Mary turned, following Zara’s pointing finger. At the top of the hill stood a tall pine, glowing with lights, and beside it, a magnificent sleigh gleamed silver in the moonlight. It looked like something from a fairy tale, pulled by reindeer and carved with golden details.
“Is that… Santa’s sleigh?” Shushan asked in awe.
Mary cupped her hands over her mouth like a megaphone and shouted toward the sky, “That’s my greatest wish—to ride Santa’s sleigh!”
The wind picked up, swirling snowflakes around them, and the three girls ran excitedly toward the figure standing near the sleigh—none other than Santa Claus himself. His coat was thick, his beard long and white, and his twinkling eyes watched them approach.
“Santa!” Zara called out breathlessly. “Our biggest dream is to ride in your sleigh, down the hill, all the way to the river!”
Santa Claus stroked his snowy beard and studied the three girls with a knowing smile. “A sleigh ride, is it? That wish comes at a cost,” he said thoughtfully. “Two golden royal coins.”
The girls gasped. “Two royal coins? But… we don’t have that kind of money!” they cried in unison.
Santa chuckled, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “Since you’re here without your parents, I’ll offer you a different trade. Give me something worth more than two golden coins—a story. A tale from your city, told from the heart. If it’s truly worthy, I shall take you on the ride.”
Zara turned to Mary, eyes pleading. “Mary! You’re our storyteller, our magic narrator. Please, make up a story so beautiful that Santa can’t say no!”
A small smile bloomed on Mary’s lips. She rubbed her hands together, narrowed her eyes against the snow, and nodded. “I will try. But let us sit in the sleigh first—storytelling is always better when you’re warm and cozy.”
With Santa’s permission, the girls clambered into the sleigh. The seats were soft and lined with fur, and the sleigh creaked slightly under the weight of magic. Santa cleaned his foggy glasses and leaned in expectantly.
Mary took a breath of icy air and began.
“The City of Dreams,” she said quietly.
“Once, long ago, there was a small kingdom resting along the banks of the river Arno. It was a beautiful land, ruled by an aging king—a widower with a heavy heart and two sons: Arthur and Suren.
“One winter’s day, the king summoned his sons to test their character. ‘My sons,’ he said, ‘I must choose who will rule after me. The law says Suren, my firstborn, should take the throne. But I must see who among you is best fit to lead.’
“Suren, proud and quick to speak, replied, ‘Father, tradition demands I inherit the crown. Anything else would bring misfortune.’
“But Arthur, the younger, simply bowed his head. ‘I will do as you command, my king.’
“The king smiled. ‘Then here is my challenge: by tomorrow morning, show me what you would build to make the kingdom more beautiful and improve the lives of its people. Let your hearts guide your designs.’”
Mary paused to glance around. Zara and Shushan were leaning forward eagerly, and even Santa looked enchanted.
She continued:
“The next morning, the princes presented their plans. Suren had painted grand images—enormous castles, tall churches, and royal stables. ‘This,’ he said proudly, ‘will elevate our kingdom’s glory.’
“The king admired the drawings but frowned. ‘We already have castles, a church, and more stables than horses. What would these bring to our people?’
“Then Arthur stepped forward. His drawing was simple, even childish. A line over the river. ‘What is this?’ asked the king.
“‘It’s a bridge, Father,’ said Arthur. ‘If we build it, we can unite both sides of the river. Traders can share goods. Families can visit one another. No one will feel forgotten. Together, we can make our kingdom a City of Dreams.’
“The king was silent for a moment. Then he stood, tears in his eyes. ‘You both have gifts. Suren, your imagination will keep our culture alive. Arthur, your heart will unite our people. Arthur shall wear the crown, and Suren shall hold the keys to the castle. Together, may you rule in harmony and surpass my hundred years.’”
Mary fell silent, the story complete.
Snow fell more gently now, like it, too, was listening. Santa Claus blinked, brushing a tear from the corner of his eye. He looked out over the river, where a real bridge—just like the one from Mary’s story—arched gracefully over the icy water.
He patted Mary’s shoulder and said softly, “This… is the most beautiful Christmas I’ve ever had. A Christmas in the City of Dreams.”
The sleigh jolted forward and began to glide smoothly down the hill. The girls squealed with joy as they raced toward the river, the world around them glowing with lights and laughter.
“Mary! Mary!” her friends shouted over the wind. “We’re really riding! This is it—it’s real!”
The sleigh soared across the snow, and for one magical moment, dreams and reality became one.
Moral of the Story:
True leadership lies not in power or appearance, but in compassion, vision, and the desire to unite others. A kind heart can transform even a small kingdom into a City of Dreams.
