Every Thursday night, music shimmered over the Orange River in the Harmonic Plains of South Africa. Lanterns floated on the water like little moons, and the stars leaned close to listen at a place everyone called The Black and White Stage. It was a place where only zebras played, but they came from all over Africa to take the stage.
That’s why Zavier the Zebra loved to perform there. In the Harmonic Plains, sound was alive. The wind hummed in rhythm, rivers sang in harmony, and each species had a unique “tone” that shaped the world’s balance. Pianos grew from the earth like crystal trees; their keys were carved from moonlight and ebony stone.
Zebras, with their black-and-white stripes, were born with natural rhythm—their hoofbeats formed the heartbeat of the land. Zavier felt alive when he played music and knew his fellow zebras did as well.
On one particular Thursday night, the audience of animals and townsfolk pressed close beneath the lantern light, hearts beating in time with the river’s flow. Zavier knew that they had all heard tales of the zebra who could coax jazz from moonlight and thunder from ivory keys, and now they waited—spellbound—for the first note.
“Stripes! Give us a jazzy tune!” the crowd called.
Zavier grinned and leapt onto the stage. Two honky-tonk pianos faced each other beneath the golden lights. He balanced on the bench, his black-and-white legs stretched wide between the silver pedals. One hoof crossed over the other as he played both pianos at once—the right hoof dancing across the left keys, the left hoof racing across the right.
The notes burst into the air like silver stars, skipping across the river’s surface.
“Your stripes match the piano keys!” shouted a fan.
Zavier winked and smiled. “That’s why they call it the Black and White Stage!”
The crowd cheered, but when the last chord trembled into silence, Zavier sighed and rubbed his aching wrists. He felt alone. What he needed was a partner—someone who could share the music.
“I can’t keep this up forever,” he muttered. “I need a duet partner—someone with rhythm, style, and spark!”
For days, the studio overflowed with zebras in glittery hats and polished hooves who came to audition as Zavier’s duet partner. One played a song so off-key the sheet music curled up and hid. Another complained about a chipped hoof. A third fell asleep on the keyboard, and the piano gave a tired yawn, closing its lid with a clunk. By sunset, Zavier had seen enough.
“The river could play better than this lot,” he sighed, staring out the window. “Maybe if I stop looking, the right one will find me.”
As if the river heard him, its ripples glowed faintly gold—and through the doorway stepped a black mare, her mane shimmering like liquid night.
“Maybe you’re searching in the wrong stripes,” she said softly. “I’m Onyx. I play classical piano—but I can match your jazz any day.”
Zavier hesitated. “You’re… not a zebra,” he said.
Onyx smiled. “No. But music doesn’t care about coats or colors,” she replied.
When she sat at the piano, Zavier felt the air shift. The strings hummed before she even touched them. Then, Zavier watched her hooves dance—light, sure, and spellbinding. The melody swirled like moonlight over water, weaving through the rafters until the lanterns trembled in time.
“Did you write that?” Zavier whispered, transfixed.
“I dreamed the melody!” Onyx said. “I woke up hearing it in my head.”
Onyx smiled again, and for the first time, Zavier felt the rhythm of his heart sync with another’s.
“Play with me tonight,” he said. “At the Black and White Stage. The river’s waiting.”
“It will be the first time a black mare ever took the stage at that club,” she said with a nod. “It will be an honor.”
That evening, Zavier waited by the side of the stage for Onyx to arrive. The clock had just struck seven and his new partner was nowhere to be seen.
Ten minutes late, she finally came rushing into the club and made her way to Zavier. He forgave her at once.
The crowd gasped as the two musicians took the stage.
A gray stallion sat in the front row, a trumpet glinting at his side. When he lifted it, a jagged note filled with jealousy cracked through the air. The lanterns flickered, and even the river recoiled. His sound wasn’t evil—only empty, full of noise but no soul.
Bitter at Zavier for his beautiful music, the gray stallion lashed out at Onyx.
“Your duet partner’s a horse?” jeered the gray stallion. “Couldn’t you find yourself a zebra?”
He hurled a fat tomato; it burst across Onyx’s mane like a crimson stain. The crowd fell silent. Onyx took a breath, lifted her chin, and calmly wiped the pulp away. Her eyes glowed faintly—not with anger, but with light. Zavier knew that she would not be bullied by anyone.
“Only zebras have ever played the Black and White Stage,” said the club owner uneasily. “It’s the rule.”
“Then it’s time we changed the tune,” said Zavier. “Music has no race or color. Maybe the world’s ready for a new sound.”
“It would be my honor to perform for the audience this evening,” Onyx said, brushing her mane from her face.
The club manager looked at the crowd for a moment. Certainly, Onyx’s gorgeous songs would be good for business.
“Well, let her play,” the club manager said. The crowd slowly began to clap.
Then, she began to play. Halfway through the song, a piano string snapped with a sharp twang. Zavier could hardly believe that the piano had malfunctioned.
For a heartbeat, the audience held its breath. Even the river fell silent.
“Just give me a moment,” Zavier said, as he knelt, tightened the string, and nodded. “Looks like we’ll be okay now.”
“Pardon me, I will start again,” Onyx said to her new fans. She drew a deep breath.
Then she began again.
Her music rose, pure and unbroken, like morning over the plains. Zavier joined in, his jazzy chords swirling around her melody. The air shimmered. Lanterns floated higher. The Orange River lit up with ribbons of silver, gold, and indigo, as if every color of sound had been set free.
The crowd forgot to breathe. Even the gray stallion hung his head.
When the final note faded, it drifted over the water—and the river caught it, carrying it downstream until it became part of its song.
Zavier turned to Onyx, eyes shining. “That’ll teach them to judge a musician by her coat.”
Onyx smiled, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s all just black and white, Zavier—like the piano. The magic’s in how we play together.”
As the moon rose over the Orange River, the world seemed to hum in harmony—two hearts, two melodies, one spell of perfect sound. The fish leapt, and the reeds swayed in rhythm. Their duet healed the discord and even turned the gray stallion’s dusty coat bright again—a living symbol of forgiveness.
And on quiet nights, if you listen by the riverbank, you can still hear their song—two souls, two melodies, one harmony of light. At the Black and White Stage, differences became music, and music became magic.
Copyright 2016 Jennifer Waters
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