At the edge of the town, a large tent sprang up with stripes: red, blue and yellow. The flags on the flagpoles fluttered, and the air smelled of popcorn and lemon candyfloss. "Do you hear that? Boom, boom, boom!" - whispered Franek to Zosia as the rehearsal drums played to the rhythm of a bouncing heart. Zosia squeezed the ticket. She had a star-shaped pin in her hair that shone like a light in a dark room. Franek held a balloon with a clown painted on it. Their Mum was smiling and her eyes were as curious as the children's eyes. They had come early because Zosia and Franek were helping to hang the colourful pennants on the fence in the morning. Thanks to this, Mrs Hatter - the circus leader - promised them a little tour before the show. Mrs Hatter wore a tall, raspberry-coloured cylinder and a tailcoat with shiny buttons. When she spoke, her voice was like a trumpet: cheerful and a little solemn. "Welcome to the Rainbow Spot Circus!" - she spread her arms. - "You are invited behind the curtain. Just be quiet, because the artists are concentrating." Backstage was like a moving picture. Mr Flash, the juggler, tossed apples and sticks with ribbons up in the air. The ribbons drew circles, figure eights and little spirals in the air. Lila Lina, the acrobat, was warming up her ankles and knees, her rope dangling like a silver thread from a very high bar. Fikol the dog - white as a cloud, with a patch over his eye - jumped through paper hoops that crumbled like snowflakes. "Look over there." - Mrs Hat pointed to the very centre of the arena. On the sand stood a trunk. It was striped, upholstered in navy blue cloth, and golden stars were scattered over it. The lock gleamed like a drop of honey in the sun. "It arrived this morning, alone. The postman left it outside the tent. All he had was this card." A note hung on the ear of the trunk. Zosia could already read, so she squared her chin and pronounced clearly: "Open only at the snare drum!" The words were written in gold paint and looked as if they were dancing. Franek made big eyes. "And what's inside?" - he asked as quietly as if he was afraid of waking the sleeping kitten. "A surprise for tonight." - smiled Mrs Hatter and put a finger to her lips - "We don't tell anyone. Even Fikol doesn't know." As if on cue, the dog Ficol approached the trunk, tilted his head and barked once: "Hau?" From the trunk came a quiet reply: tick... tick... like a drop tapping against a glass. Zosia and Franek held their breath. The trunk did not move, but something inside it made a small, very small breath, like a feather falling and hovering in the air. "Did you hear that?" - Zosia squeezed the star-shaped pin. "Maybe it's juggling balls?" - guessed Franek. "Or... well, maybe acrobat pads?" - he added, a little uncertainly. "Or maybe sounds." - Said Mr Flash and caught a yellow apple on the tip of his finger. - "There are some sounds that like to sit in boxes. You let them out and hop! They fly." Susan laughed, but looked at the trunk again. Mrs Hatter clapped her hands. "It's time to get back to your seats. We're about to start. And the trunk... the trunk will wait. The snare drum will help us open it." The audience flowed in like a colourful river. Children rustled programmes, adults cmoched for candyfloss. The lights above the arena flickered and lit up the sand so that it looked like a warm golden cake. The trumpet played a long sound, and Mrs Hat stepped into the middle, bowed and took a turn, from which a tiny feathered fern fell from her shoulder. "Respectful, kind, smiling!" - she exclaimed. - "The Rainbow Spot Circus invites you to an evening of colour and hand clapping!" The hall erupted in applause, and Zosia and Franek felt their chairs bouncing along with them. First Mr Sparkle juggled five apples, then six balls and finally three pea umbrellas. Lila Lina sailed along the rope like a dragonfly over the pond, doing tumbling turns that made everyone's stomach go light. The dog Ficol jumped through eight paper hoops and each time got a crunch, which he politely put aside as if he was collecting them for his own collection. And yet, each time the applause quietened, Zosia and Franek looked at the trunk. It stood there, quiet, as if slumbering. Sometimes a reflection of light danced on its age, like a little sun. Sometimes the lock flashed, as if winking at someone who was just looking intently. Mrs Hatter returned to the arena with a long, blue ribbon. The ribbon swirled, twirled and untied until it finally fell on her hand like a wave from a lake. "And now," she said quietly, so that everyone tilted their heads to hear better, "the moment has come that all eyes in this tent are waiting for." The lights dimmed. Above the arena, the lights went out one by one, leaving only one circular sheaf of light. The sheaf of light fell straight onto the gold-starred trunk. The spectators took a collective, silent breath. Zosia felt her hairpin tremble. Franek grabbed her hand. "Snare drums, please!" - cried Mrs Hatter and nodded. The drums began to whisper: trrrr... trrrr... louder and louder until the sound became like a spilling wave. The trunk vibrated. Once. A second. The latch quivered and buzzed like a bell. Someone in the stands squealed quietly with emotion. Something inside rattled: tic... tic-tic! A narrow crack appeared in the age of the trunk, from which a shred of silver radiance escaped, as if someone had blown shiny pollen. The fyke raised its paw, as if to greet him, and shot a little wind with its tail. The snare drum was already rumbling in full voice. Mrs Hatter reached out her hand to the lock, and the sheaf of light grew even brighter. The trunk moved across the sand a tick, like a boat on a wave. The lock popped, hissed softly and... clicked.