Leopoldo's Secret Library | Written By Marco Ciappelli (English Version) | Stories Sotto Le Stelle Podcast | Short Stories For Children And Dreamers Of All Ages

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Leopoldo's Secret Library | Written By Marco Ciappelli (English Version) | Stories Sotto Le Stelle Podcast | Short Stories For Children And Dreamers Of All Ages

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LEOPOLDO'S SECRET LIBRARYSome people are strange — they like to spend their evenings reading books.Others are even stranger — they believe in the magic found between pages, in fantastical adventures, in stories of impossible love, in ghosts that walk among the living, and they think that everything that doesn't exist — maybe does after all.In short, this story is for those who are a little strange, like you and me — you know, for those who.So… listen.If you take the road up the hill from the center of town, you'll find an old and noble villa, one that has been there for a very long time. It must be about 350 years now that it has stood there in silence, watching and breathing softly beneath the Tuscan sky.Enormous rooms filled with history, endless corridors, and windows as large as dreams — but now, instead of porcelain plates and figurines, it gives us stories on paper for those who wish to read them.Yes, now it's the town library — a bit out of the way, but so beautiful. Well, you can't have everything.Now, on a summer night, wrapped in a blanket of stars and the soft glow of delicate lanterns, the villa had filled with voices, music, smiles, and so many stories told and heard, spoken aloud or whispered, intertwining in the embrace of the celebration.A special evening already, no doubt, but pay attention, because something even more unusual was about to happen.Yes, because Elisa was there too. Eyes as wide as the sky, hair as dark as the night, and a book in her hand — as always.Despite everything happening around her, Elisa preferred to read.She was there, in the main corridor: between the garden and the inner courtyard, halfway between the certain and the perhaps, sitting in an armchair a little too big for her, lost in a mysterious and captivating story — in a world all her own.She turns a page, then another, adjusts her yellow glasses, and turns another page…When slowly, the echo of piano music reached her ears.She didn't pay much attention. Thinking it came from the courtyard, she turned another page — and then another.But before long she realized that the notes she heard were not coming from the villa's courtyard but from one of its corridors — carried by a gentle breeze, from faraway places outside of time.Without thinking too much, Elisa rose silently, tucked her book under her arm, and followed the music.She crossed ancient corridors and rooms with shelves full of volumes of every size and color imaginable — rainbows of thoughts and words lined up one by one that seemed to never end.As the music grew stronger, the light faded, the rooms she passed through began to appear forgotten, the stone stairs she climbed and descended worn by time, the side corridors were now dark passages lit only by torches on the walls, appearing and disappearing in the darkness like breaths.A staircase, a wooden door left ajar, another passage, another staircase, and still more rooms and shelves and books without end.Then, suddenly, a mist covered the floor like a gentle tide, and there, before her, a heavy curtain — half open.A little light showed through, and a few small wooden steps.She climbed them, those little stairs, and the music wrapped around her like an embrace.On the stage, candles floated in the air like fireflies on a timeless night. And there, at the center, seated before a tiny piano, was a mouse.But not just any mouse.Leopoldo wore a dark green tweed jacket, brown trousers pressed with care, and on his little snout, golden spectacles that gleamed with ancient and gentle wisdom.His fingers danced on the keys as if they were telling a secret."Welcome, Elisa," he said, without stopping his playing. "I've been waiting for you."Elisa blinked, enchanted. "How do you know my name?""Ah," Leopoldo smiled, letting the last note fade softly into the air, "those who love stories always recognize those who seek them."He stood, adjusted his jacket with an elegant gesture, and looked at her with eyes full of stars."Do you know where you are?""In the town library," Elisa answered, but her voice trembled a little, as if she knew the answer was something else."That one everyone knows," said Leopoldo, stepping down slowly from the stage. "Every town has one that everyone knows. But every town also has another — one that almost no one finds."He paused, his eyes gleaming."You have found the second."Leopoldo led her toward a large wooden door that Elisa could have sworn wasn't there a moment before. It opened slowly, without a sound, like a sigh held too long.And what she saw took her breath away.Endless shelves climbed upward, descended downward, stretched in every direction like spirals of galaxies made of paper and dreams. Candles floated everywhere, illuminating books that seemed to breathe, to pulse softly, like sleeping hearts."What is this place?" Elisa whispered."This," said Leopoldo, walking among the shelves, "is the library of books never written."Elisa followed, confused. "...

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