Once upon a time in Monaco—the world’s second-smallest country after the Pope’s Vatican—there lived a little girl named Mona. She was mute. Her father had passed away some years prior, and she lived alone with her mother.

Because her mother was away most of the time and came home late every night, Mona was often left to herself. She had no friends and never went to school. However, she taught herself how to write by studying the words and phrases in a book she found in the house.

One day, seeing her mother putting on makeup to leave, Mona pulled a piece of paper and a pencil from a drawer. She wrote: “Are you leaving, Mother?” - This was how her mother discovered Mona could write. “Yes, sweetie,” her mother replied, “but I won’t be long this time. I will come home as soon as I can.”

Her mother was gentle most of the time, but she could also be mean. Occasionally, she would become angry and frustrated because Mona could not speak. As always, her mother did not return until late that night. This time, she arrived with a friend—a man she had met in town. They were both drunk, laughing loudly as they stumbled through the living room.

Mona appeared from her room, awakened by the noise.

“Oh, did we wake you, sweetie?” her mother asked. “Go on back to bed; we will try to be quiet.”

Mona turned to walk away, but the man looked at her and called out, “Wait a minute!” He walked over to her, pointing. “The Monegasque girl! You gave me a piano lesson,” he said loudly. “In my dream. Two nights ago. You gave me a piano lesson.”

“What are you talking about?” Mona’s mother asked. “What piano lesson?”

“Yes,” the man insisted. “She gave me a piano lesson.”

“Stop being silly. She is mute, and she can’t play the piano!” the mother replied.

“Here,” the man said. He went to a briefcase he had placed on the dining table, sifting through the papers inside until he pulled one out. It was a drawing. “I always draw my dreams.”

Mona stood and watched. She wore a simple dress made of thin, floral lace with pink flowers. The man’s drawing showed a girl wearing that exact same dress. “See? This is her. The Monegasque girl from my dream.”

“My daughter does not play piano,” Mona’s mother insisted. “Dreams are dreams; they can fool your mind.”

She tried to pull the man away, but he turned and saw two old wooden pianos standing side-by-side against the wall. “Whose are these?” he asked.

“They belonged to my late husband,” Mona’s mother replied. “He was a composer.” A framed photo of her late husband sat on one piano, and a walking cane hung on the wall beside it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” the man said to Mona. “Come play us what you taught me in my dream.” He reached for Mona's hand, but her mother sent her away. “Go on, sweetie. Go back to bed.”

The man walked to one of the pianos and tried to play, but he struggled, and the notes sounded harsh. Finally, he gave up. Mona’s mother pulled him by the arm, and they disappeared into the other room.

A moment later, the sound of a piano drifted from the living room. It was beautiful. They both reappeared behind the door, watching quietly, puzzled by what they saw.

It was Mona. She played as if no one were watching, as if she were entirely alone. The music was magical. Her mother stood mesmerized, filled with enormous pride. But suddenly, the second piano began to play as well, its keys pressed by invisible hands. It was loud and aggressive, yet beautiful, playing in perfect harmony with Mona.

Mona panicked. Frightened by the invisible player, she rose quickly and threw herself onto the floor, trembling with fear. Her mother and the man froze.

Then, the walking cane began to move. It lifted off the wall and hovered above the floor as if someone were walking with it. It moved toward Mona and stopped. A second later, the handle leaned over and rested on Mona’s shoulder, gently helping her up. Once she was back on the piano bench, the cane returned to its place on the wall.

The invisible hands began to play again. Still shaken, Mona joined in. Then, suddenly, she began to sing. Her voice was extraordinarily beautiful, surprising her mother and the man even more. Tears rolled down her mother’s cheeks.

Outside in the dark night, a light flickered on in a neighbor's house, captured by the singing. Then another light, and another. One by one, every light in Monaco seemed to turn on, their rays piercing the darkness. Mona’s angelic voice carried on in harmony with the two pianos. The louder her voice echoed, the brighter the lights of the city flickered, as if the stars had descended to earth to bow before her symphony.

The mute Monegasque girl was mute no more. By sunrise, word had spread. Ever since that night, millions of people from around the world travel to Monaco each year just to hear the Monegasque girl sing.

– The End –

Copenhagen, 14 November 2025, Denmark.

©2025, Derek Banner, All rights reserved.