It was an ordinary winter morning. The sun was slowly rising from behind the hills, apartment buildings, and houses, as well as from behind St. Elizabeth's Cathedral in Košice, the capital of Haravara. Max and Majka were looking at the spires of the Cathedral. Outside, snow lay on the ground, dotted with footprints left by people who had passed by recently. The children were only sitting there, wondering what they would do.
"What if we draw this beautiful scene?" suggested Majka, looking around for the most beautiful view of the Haravara panorama.
"Do you think we could do it?" asked Maxík.
"Sure," Majka reassured him.
"But I'd like to have some ponies on my snow too, and..." Majka didn't finish because Maxík interrupted her:
"And a princess! With a scarf that trails behind her."
"Come on! Why would my princesses have trailer attachments like tractors?" Majka got angry.
"Majka, tractors have trailer attachments, but so do princesses," Maxík tried to calm her down.
"You mean they have trailers somewhere in their castles?" Majka didn't understand, still drawing something on her piece of paper.
"That long piece of fabric that hangs down and flutters in the wind when princesses ride on horses. Or the ones they have when they are joined in wedlock," Majka's eyes lit up.
"That's a trailer," added Maxík.
"Then I want a trailer too," said Majka, and they both sat down with their paper, crayons, and paints.
"You're doing pretty well," Maxík said, looking over his shoulder at Majka.
"So are you," Majka encouraged him.
"Majka..." Maxík stopped drawing.
But Majka didn't even notice that her brother had stopped drawing and painting.
"I have an idea," Maxík said, looking at the Haravara landscape.
"I'm listening," Majka continued drawing.
"What if we paint our room?"
"But you know we can't do that without our parents' permission," Majka looked at Maxík and tapped her forehead, thinking that Maxík had probably forgotten everything.
"I know. And do you remember what Mom told us yesterday?"
"This wall is yours, kids," Majka's eyes lit up.
"You can paint it however you want, whenever you want," both children's eyes lit up.
"And the rest will stay spotless."
"Well, what do you say?" Maxík continued to provoke her, and the corners of his mouth began to move strangely.
"We should take advantage of this offer," said Majka, putting down her pencils and looking at the wall.
"But... have you ever painted on a wall before?"
"Not yet. You know you're not supposed to paint on walls, especially in apartments and buildings."
"I think it'll be like painting on paper," said Maxík, running his hand along the clean wall.
Maxík took his watercolours and started painting on the wall.
"Stop!" shouted Majka.
"What's wrong?" asked Maxík, startled.
"Look at that."
Maxík looked at the wall and felt like crying.
"Mom's not going to like this," he whispered.
"Mom said we could put anything we wanted there."
"That's true," Maxík said, calming down a little.
"But I don't like this either," said Majka, standing in front of her brother. "We should go somewhere to see how to paint on walls."
As they were reflecting on this, they suddenly heard a voice behind them:
"Modern art, hmmmmmm."
The children turned around and saw their friend, the ghost Kaško, sitting on the snow-covered window sill.
"It was supposed to be a horse on the wall," whispered Maxík sheepishly.
"And princesses on it and...," added Majka sadly, looking at the smudged paint.
"Sure. And why did you paint it like this?"
"How were we supposed to paint it?"
"Frescoes are best for walls."
"I would never do that," said Majka.
"What's wrong with...," Kaško began.
"I would never paint by animals on a wall."
"What?" Kaško didn't understand.
"Not even ferrets."
"Frescoes," explained Kaško.
"What are those?"
"A fresco is a painting that you can see on the walls of old churches."
"Sure, we've seen some of them..."
"But they're just painted on the walls, right?" Majka wondered.
"To make a fresco, you first need to have damp plaster."
"What?"
"The stuff that makes up the wall."
"Right, plaster."
"And when it's damp, you have special paints that you paint on the wet plaster."
"And why does it have to be wet?" Majka didn't understand, and neither did Max, but he didn't want to ask.
"Because the paint soaks into the plaster," Kaško tapped the wall with the smudged paint.
"Like a sponge," Majka thought she probably understood.
"And it stays there longer," Kaško confirmed.
"Mainly so it doesn't run down the wall," Maxík sighed.
"Exactly, my friends."
"But where can we learn to paint frescoes like that?" Majka threw her hands up in despair.
"In the Gemer region," of course," replied Kaško.
"Where?" his friends asked, pricking up their ears.
"In the Gemer," Kaško repeated slowly.
"And what is that?"
"It's part of the Haravara region," Kaško started to explain it in a professional way.
"I see."
"Near the town of Rožňava..." Kaško tried to explain to the children where Gemer was located.
"We know that - Rožňava!" the children shouted happily, excited that their fresco painting lessons were coming up.
"Well, there are several old churches there, which are usually closed in winter, and so a secret college of spiritual and ghost arts is held there."
"Really?"
"Would you like to see it?" Kaško suggested, as if by chance, knowing exactly what would happen.
"Of course!" the siblings exclaimed enthusiastically.
"Choose the little church you like best, and you can join my friends, the students."
Maxík and Majka got on the bus that took them to the village Kaško had marked first on the map.
Koceľovce.
The children walked to a small hill in the village where a beautiful little church stood, like something out of a fairy tale. On the way, Kaško told them that all the little churches had been standing there for more than 600 years, some even more than 700. And the frescoes inside were just as old.
"Are they still there?" Majka wondered.
"Yes, they are, although some of them are damaged," said Kaško sadly.
"Who could have destroyed such beautiful pictures?" the children wondered.
"There was a time, not only in Haravara, but throughout Europe, when strange people came to the churches and said that the pictures didn't belong there."
"Really?" Majka almost stammered at the thought of a church without a single painting.
"They started repainting or destroying them," Kaško continued.
"I would never do that."
"Let's go inside!"
"Do we have a key?" they asked Kaško.
"We don't, but my friend Viktória does." Kaško muttered something, and a ghost dressed like a fairy tale character appeared beside him.
"Kaško!" Viktória hugged him.
Viktória
"So, you decided to learn how to paint after all?"
"Not me, but my friends," he pointed to Maxík and Majka.
"Human children?" Viktória didn't understand, because she had no idea that Maxík and Majka could see her.
"But they can see us," Kaško whispered to her, and her eyes opened wide.
"You know this is just a school for ghosts," Viktória warned.
"I know, but they're very good," Kaško smiled.
Majka and Maxík gave their puppy-dog eyes, and Viktória jangled a huge key in the door of the little church. A small, beautiful gallery opened up before the children.
“What's this?”
"Welcome to the little church in Koceľovce," whispered Viktória.
Many ghosts sat under the frescoes in the church and learned to paint. Viktória pointed to the walls:
"These frescoes were painted here by Italian masters."
"All the way from Italy?" Majka couldn't believe her ears.
"Rožňava and the entire surrounding area used to be very rich," added Kaško.
"Why aren't they anymore?" Majka wondered.
"Iron, silver, and gold were mined here," explained Kaško.
"Wow..." Majka admired the frescoes with her brother.
"And since they exported what they mined all over Europe, they could call in the best masters."
"Frescoes were first used in ancient Greece, then in Rome - that is, Italy," added Viktória.
"And now we teach it to our little ghosts," she pointed to the student ghosts.
"What do they need that for?" Max and Majka didn't understand.
"So, they can whisper to the restorers how to restore the frescoes."
"Oh!" Kaško also learned something new.
Max and Majka wandered around the little church. They admired the beautiful ceiling, which looked like something out of a fairy tale, and the paintings - or rather, frescoes - on the walls, which made them feel as if they were about to come to life.
"It's beautiful," whispered Majka.
"It is," agreed Maxík.
"Do you like it here?" asked Viktória after a while.
"Yes... And who are the restorers?" Majka remembered that she didn't understand that word.
"Come on, I'll take you to a place where you can still see their work."
"Where?" asked the children, because they didn't want to leave this beautiful little church-gallery at all.
"To Plešivec," said Viktória, opening the church door and taking off.
Kaško decided that they wouldn't wait for the bus, but would use his flying herbs instead. And so, in a few seconds, the children found themselves in a small town - Plešivec - in front of a church that looked very similar to the one in Koceľovce.
"You know, these churches sometimes look similar from the outside because they were built in the same period and all had to have one nave..."
"A nave?" Majka and Maxík looked around to see if they were standing on an island surrounded by water.
"Well, that's the part of the church where the pews are and where people sit."
"Oh, so that's the nave."
"Some large churches even have three naves."
"Uh," Maxík laughed, imagining what it would be like if they went to look at the church and it suddenly moved and floated across the landscape.
They entered the little church, which was opened again by Viki - the chief keyholder of the Gemer Gothic churches for young ghosts - artists, as the children had learned during the flight.
"But someone destroyed the frescoes here!" cried Majka.
"Someone repaired them here" corrected Viki.
"But they're not repaired, they're destroyed," added Kaško.
"Someone destroyed these frescoes many years ago."
"Why don't you repair them all?" Maxík didn't understand.
"But they're almost all repaired," said Viki, running her hand along the walls. Her delicate hand couldn't damage these paintings - frescoes.
"I can see that some of the figures aren't complete," Majka pointed out discreetly.
restorer
"Oh, so he only fixes what's visible."
"And what's clear."
"Hmm, that makes sense."
"Sometimes photos or sketches of the frescoes have been preserved, but that's not very common," explained Viki, while Kaško flitted around the church and examined the frescoes under the roof.
Kaško and Viktória showed the children how the frescoes in Plešivec were restored, and Viktória invited them to their largest painting workshop - in the church in Ochtiná.
She hadn't even finished speaking when they were already dashing. As soon as they arrived at the beautiful little church in the small village of Ochtiná, they went inside and sat down among the painters - the ghosts.
"Choose a character you like and try to paint it on your paper. Then I'll teach you how to paint it on the wall," Viktória whispered to them so as not to disturb the other artists at work.
Max and Majka couldn't decide. Around them were pictures that told the story of Easter - not about water splashes, but about the Garden of Gethsemane, Judas' kiss, and the Way of the Cross. And even though it was cold, the children began to look forward to Easter.
And then they saw it.
"What's this?" they both asked at once.
"What?" asked Viki.
"The three-headed creature," they pointed to a fresco depicting a figure with three faces on one head.
"It's one of the most beautiful frescoes in the land of Haravara," Viktória said dreamily.
"But what is it?" Majka and Maxík examined the picture.
"What do you think?" Kaško teased them.
"A common three-headed creature?" Maxík ventured.
"Some kind of little dragon?" Majka responded when she saw Viki and Kaško shaking their heads.
"Or..." Maxík began, but nothing else came to mind except more three-headed creatures.
"That's called the Holy Trinity."
"And what is that?" Majka asked curiously.
"That's one of the mysteries that even we ghosts can't explain. But we know that this head is the Father, this one is supposedly the Son, and this one..."
"Mom!" Majka exclaimed spontaneously.
"...and this one..." Viki wanted to finish.
"Daughter?" Maxík tried to score a point.
"Spirit," Viki finished.
"I see."
It was clear to Majka and Maxík - they were going to paint a triple head, horses, and strange figures with swords and books.
“I still want to know why somebody painted it like this and why somebody else destroyed it,” Majka insisted.
"A long time ago, people lacked the ability to read," Viki began to explain. "Even if ordinary people had known how to read six hundred years ago, they wouldn't have had anything to read."
"How come?" Maxík didn't understand.
"Books were written by hand and there were very few of them in the world. For example, there were only dozens of copies of the most famous ones."
"Wow," said Majka, imagining a world without books.
"That's why people told stories," explained Kaško, while the children painted and drew pictures of strange Ochtiná characters on pieces of paper.
"So, they could remember them - the stories," Kaško continued.
"So, they drew them as comics," added Viki, praising the children for their drawings. "I think we can start learning to paint on the wall."
"We'll learn to paint frescoes!" the siblings exclaimed happily.
Viktória just laughed and, together with the other ghosts, taught Majka and Maxík how to prepare wet plaster, how to make paints, how to mix them, and when and how to paint on fresh plaster.
As they were painting, an apple suddenly fell out of one of the pictures.
"What was that?" Viktória asked, startled.
"They're coming to life," whispered Majka, a little frightened.
And then something happened that no one expected. The beautiful pictures above the Gothic windows came to life - eagles and a flying bull began to fly out of them. The table from The Last Supper fell from the wall, along with the bread and a kind of cup. And the figures around them slowly came to life.
"What are we going to do?!" the students shouted, and Majka looked at her paintbrush.
"Did you dip your brush in this paint?" Viktória asked quickly.
"Probably. Why?" Majka suspected she had done something wrong.
"That's a magical paint that we only use when we teach anatomy - what horses or people look like in motion."
"So, you bring them to life for a while?" Maxík looked horrified at the slow revival of the figures in the church.
"Exactly," confirmed Viki.
"And how do we bring them back to life?" asked Kaško.
"We have to use this... but no!"
"What happened?" Kaško perceived a problem.
"I had the magic powder for bringing pictures back from life here."
"Isn't it there?" Majka began to worry.
"Never mind - there's a magical cave on the hill," Viki pointed through the window.
"Magical?" whispered Maxík.
"There's aragonite in it."
"What's in it?"
"Come on, we have no time," said Kaško when he saw another table fall from the wall and the little figures start drooling over the food.
Viktória and Kaško took the children toward the cave. When they entered through the secret entrance, Maxík and Majka almost fainted. Above them hung beautiful silver objects.
"That's aragonite. There are only a few caves like this in the world," said Viki, searching for something on the ground with Kaško.
"How many?" Majka couldn't hide her curiosity.
"You could count them on the fingers of two hands - and one of them is right here."
"What are we looking for here?"
Viktória bent down and saw a strange powder on the ground.
"That's aragonite powder. It has miraculous powers - you just have to mix it with this water," she said and dipped the powder into the stream.
As soon as she did, they flew back to the little church in Ochtiná, where the horses were already running around and the three-headed figure was shaking all its three heads.
Victoria sprinkled the powder into the air and whispered something to Kaško.
All the figures returned to their places - to the pictures - and Maxík and Majka, along with the other students, were able to continue painting.
That evening before bed, Maxík and Majka whispered to each other that they would go for a walk to these churches during the winter, just to stroll around. And in the summer, they would take their mom and dad there too - and to the Ochtiná Aragonite Cave.
"What a trip that will be!"
"And tomorrow we'll start frescoing our wall."
That night, they dreamed about their room - and regretted only one thing: That they could only fresco one wall.
