The Night Carousel – Read and Print

By Rachel Dunstan Muller, copyright 2021

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Every summer night, before she went to bed, Laila would stand at her window and listen. And every night she heard the sounds of her small village getting ready for sleep. She heard rocking chairs creaking on front porches; her next door neighbour calling her cats; another neighbour singing a lullaby. She heard leaves rustling in the dark; crickets chirping in the tall grass. 

But sometimes? Sometimes, Laila heard something else, as well . . .  the sound of distant music.

When she heard that music – that cheerful, tinkling music – oh, then Laila could hardly contain her excitement. “Mama, listen! It’s here! The Night Carousel!”

Her mother came to the window too. “You’re right, Laila,” she said. “It is the Night Carousel.”

But Laila wasn’t the only child who listened at her window every night. And when the other children of the village heard that music? They couldn’t put their shoes on fast enough. “Hurry, hurry,” they cried, tugging at their mothers’ hands, racing out into the darkness.

The pale moon shone above them, just enough to light their way along a silver path – through the village, over a bridge, past quiet fields and meadows. And as they went, the children could hear that they were getting closer to the carousel, that wonderful merry-go-round. Until at last, the path led them around a bend – and there it was, shining in the night!

Oh, but it was beautiful – with sparkling gold and silver lights. And around it were the most fantastic creatures: lions and tigers and giraffes and zebras, unicorns and dragons and horses with wings – all carved out of smooth wood. But Laila had a favorite animal, and she went to it right away. It was a giant grey rabbit, with sparkling eyes and a friendly smile, and a brightly painted saddle.

While all the other children were choosing their own creatures, Laila’s mother helped her climb up onto the rabbit’s back. Then Laila leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the rabbit’s neck. And as she did, the most wonderful thing happened. You see, the night carousel wasn’t an ordinary merry-go-round, the kind you or I might ride at the fair. No; the night carousel was magic. And when Laila wrapped her arms around the grey rabbit’s neck – it came to life. It was no longer carved wood under her arms, but instead – soft fur, warm and silky against her cheek.

As Laila and all the other children held on, the carousel began to turn – slowly, slowly, round and round. And as it turned, all the other creatures came to life, too – panda bears, and zebras and flying horses. Up and down, and round and round they leapt, and soared, and glided; their cheerful eyes shining, their colourful saddles gleaming under the sparkling lights. Up and down and up and down Laila’s own rabbit leapt, round and round and round.

She closed her eyes – for just a moment – and when she opened them again, she was no longer on a carousel; she was riding through the night with a parade of other children, each on their own magical creature. Over the moon-lit meadow they went, calling out to each other in excitement.

The cheerful music of the carousel went with them, as the grey rabbit and all the others leaped over the meadow, over the hills, then up and up, into the night. The air felt warm and soft on Laila’s skin, as she soared higher and higher still, past wispy clouds, into the starry sky.

On and on and on they rode, through the peaceful night. On and on, until Laila’s eyes began to grow heavy. So heavy, that it was hard to keep to them open. And so she let her head rest gently on the grey rabbit’s neck.

All around her in the moonlight, the night carousel’s creatures were slowing. Then they turned and bounded gently back to Earth – back across the hills, back across the meadow, back down a silvery path that lead to a quiet village.

The grey rabbit carried Laila all the way back to her mother, waiting patiently at Laila’s own front door. Around her in the dark, Laila could hear the other children of the village returning to their own homes as well.

Laila was feeling very tired as she climbed down from the grey rabbit. But she whispered thank you and goodnight, then turned and went inside.

It didn’t take long for Laila to fall asleep, once she was tucked into bed. But as she was falling, she listened to the peaceful sounds of her village: rocking chairs creaking, crickets chirping, leaves whispering. And somewhere, off in the distance, the cheerful, tinkling music of the night carousel.

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