The first time Eddy heard the rainbow, he thought somebody had dropped a metal bucket down the hill.
Tang.
He stopped walking.
The sound came again.
Tang… tang… ting.
Eddy turned around, one hand still holding the strap of his schoolbag.
There was nobody behind him.
Only the narrow village road, wet from the afternoon rain.
Water dripped from the leaves of the rubber trees. Small streams ran along the sides of the road, carrying tiny brown leaves toward the drains. Somewhere beyond the houses, a motorbike coughed twice before disappearing behind a row of banana trees.
Eddy frowned.
“Okay… weird.”
He looked up.
A rainbow stretched across the sky.
It began somewhere behind the green hills and curved gently over the village, fading into the mist above the old rain trees.
It was enormous.
Not the usual thin rainbow that appeared for five minutes and vanished when you tried to take a photograph.
This one seemed close enough to touch.
Red.
Orange.
Yellow.
Green.
Blue.
Indigo.
Violet.
Eddy had always loved rainbows, but something about this one made the hairs on his arms rise.
Then he heard it again.
Tang… tang… ting.
The rhythm seemed to come from the direction of the old wooden footbridge at the edge of the village.
Eddy’s eyes widened.
He knew that bridge.
Everyone did.
It crossed a narrow stream between the village and the hills, and according to an old story told by the villagers, something strange happened there whenever a rainbow appeared after heavy rain.
His grandmother had told him about it many times.
“The rainbow has a rhythm,” she used to say.
“When the colors appear in the right order, listen carefully.”
Eddy had laughed the first time.
“Listen to a rainbow? How?”
His grandmother had smiled.
“Not with your ears, boy.”
She had tapped his chest.
“With this.”
Eddy had thought she was joking.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
He tightened his grip on his schoolbag.
“Fine,” he whispered to the rainbow.
“Let’s see what you’re trying to tell me.”
And he ran toward the bridge.
Episode 1: The Village Between the Hills
Eddy lived in Kampung Bukit Serai, a small village tucked between the green hills outside Taiping.
The village wasn’t famous for anything.
It had no giant buildings, no fancy shopping centre, and no exciting amusement park.
It had a row of old wooden houses.
A small grocery shop.
A badminton court with one crooked floodlight.
A playground where the swings squeaked like unhappy chickens.
A field that became a temporary lake whenever the rain was too enthusiastic.
And, most importantly, hills.
Lots of hills.
During the dry months, the hills looked soft and green, like giant sleeping animals.
During the rainy season, mist wrapped around them until the whole village seemed hidden inside a cloud.
Eddy liked it that way.
He liked the smell of wet earth.
He liked listening to cicadas after school.
He liked cycling along the narrow roads while dragonflies danced above the drains.
But he especially liked rain.
Unfortunately, rain did not always like Eddy.
Whenever the weather became too wet, his mother would shout from the kitchen:
“Eddy! Bring in the clothes!”
And Eddy would shout back:
“Coming!”
Then he would stare at the sky for another ten minutes.
His mother knew this.
“Eddy!”
“Okay! Okay!”
That afternoon, however, he wasn’t thinking about laundry.
He was thinking about the sound.
Tang… tang… ting.
By the time he reached the bridge, the rainbow had begun to fade.
Eddy slowed down.
The wooden bridge was old but sturdy. Its railings were darkened by years of rain, and moss grew between the planks.
Underneath, the stream rushed over smooth stones.
Eddy stepped onto the bridge.
Nothing.
He waited.
Nothing.
He scratched his head.
“Maybe I’m imagining it.”
Then—
Tang.
Eddy froze.
The sound came from below.
He leaned over the railing.
There, caught between two rocks near the edge of the stream, was a small wooden box.
Eddy’s heart jumped.
He climbed carefully down the muddy bank.
The box was about the size of a lunch container. Its surface was covered in scratches, and somebody had painted seven tiny colored lines across its lid.
Red.
Orange.
Yellow.
Green.
Blue.
Indigo.
Violet.
Eddy stared.
“Rainbow colors.”
He reached toward it.
The moment his fingers touched the box—
TING.
The sound rang through the valley.
Eddy nearly fell backward.
The box had a tiny metal piece attached to its side.
A bell.
And another.
And another.
Seven tiny bells.
He lifted the box.
Inside was a folded piece of yellowed paper.
Eddy unfolded it.
There were only three lines.
When the colors cross the hill,
follow the rhythm, not the road.
Seven beats will show the way.
Eddy read it twice.
Then a third time.
“What does that even mean?”
“Talking to yourself again?”
Eddy spun around.
A girl stood on the bridge above him.
She was Abby, his classmate and self-appointed expert in everything from insects to mysterious village stories.
She was holding an umbrella.
A very bright yellow umbrella.
“You scared me!” Eddy shouted.
Abby grinned.
“You jumped like a frog.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Eddy climbed back onto the bridge.
Abby looked at the box.
Her grin disappeared.
“Where did you get that?”
“Under the bridge.”
She stepped closer.
“Open it.”
“I already did.”
“What was inside?”
Eddy showed her the paper.
Abby read it.
Her eyes grew round.
“My grandmother told me this story.”
Eddy stared at her.
“Wait. Your grandmother too?”
Abby nodded slowly.
“She said the rainbow rhythm only appears when the village has forgotten something important.”
Eddy swallowed.
“Forgotten what?”
Abby looked toward the hills.
“I don’t know.”
The wind moved through the trees.
Far away, thunder grumbled.
Abby folded the paper carefully.
“Looks like we’re going to find out.”
Episode 2: Seven Beats
The next morning, Eddy and Abby met behind the village community hall.
They brought notebooks, two bottles of water, three packets of biscuits, a flashlight, and one extremely suspicious-looking compass that Eddy’s father had bought from a hardware shop years ago.
The compass needle was stuck.
“Are you sure this works?” Abby asked.
“No.”
“Great.”
Eddy put the compass away.
“At least we have biscuits.”
Abby sighed.
They studied the seven bells on the wooden box.
Each bell was slightly different.
One was deep.
One was soft.
One made a sharp metallic sound.
The smallest sounded almost like a raindrop.
Eddy tapped them gently.
Tang.
Tong.
Ting.
Tak.
Ling.
Tong.
Tin.
Abby wrote down the sounds.
“Seven bells. Seven colors.”
“Maybe each color matches a bell.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe the rhythm is a code.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe—”
“Eddy.”
“Yes?”
“Stop saying maybe.”
“Okay.”
They walked toward the hills.
The first clue was obvious.
The paper said, follow the rhythm, not the road.
So they avoided the main road.
Instead, they followed the stream.
It led them past an abandoned fruit shed, through a bamboo grove, and toward a clearing where the sunlight came through the leaves in thin golden strips.
Then they heard it.
Tang… tang… ting.
Eddy stopped.
Abby stopped.
Seven sounds followed.
Tang.
Tong.
Ting.
Tak.
Ling.
Tong.
Tin.
The wooden box vibrated in Eddy’s hand.
A tiny mark appeared on the side.
A green arrow.
Abby stared.
“Okay.”
Eddy nodded.
“Okay.”
“That’s definitely weird.”
“Very.”
They followed the arrow.
It led them to a large rain tree.
Its roots twisted above the ground like sleeping snakes.
On the trunk was a carved symbol—a circle surrounded by seven lines.
Abby touched it.
“Look.”
There was another message.
Not written in ink.
It had been carved into the bark.
The rainbow is not a treasure.
It is a memory.
Eddy’s excitement faded.
“A memory?”
Abby looked around.
“Whose?”
Before either could answer, they heard footsteps.
They turned.
Three boys stood at the edge of the clearing.
The tallest was Rafiq, Eddy’s neighbour.
Beside him were Kumar and Chang Yong.
Rafiq folded his arms.
“So.”
Eddy groaned.
“Of course.”
Rafiq grinned.
“You two have been sneaking around all morning.”
“We haven’t been sneaking.”
“You disappeared before breakfast.”
“That’s not sneaking.”
“You’ve got a mysterious box.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“What’s inside?”
Abby held up the paper.
Rafiq read it.
His face changed.
“My grandfather mentioned this.”
Everyone went quiet.
“Your grandfather too?” Eddy asked.
Rafiq nodded.
“He called it the Rainbow Rhythm.”
Kumar stepped forward.
“What did he say?”
Rafiq thought for a moment.
“He said long ago, villagers used the bells to guide people home during heavy rain.”
Chang Yong frowned.
“Guide people?”
Rafiq nodded.
“The hills used to flood more often. The paths became dangerous. The bells were hung along the old trail.”
Eddy looked at the wooden box.
“So the rhythm was a signal.”
“Maybe,” Rafiq said.
Abby smiled.
“Eddy is rubbing off on you.”
“Eh?”
“Nothing.”
They laughed.
For the first time, the mystery felt less frightening.
It felt like something the whole village had once known.
Something that had slowly disappeared.
But why had the box returned now?
Episode 3: The Forgotten Path
The four friends followed the trail deeper into the hills.
They found seven old posts.
The first had a red stripe.
The second orange.
The third yellow.
Then green.
Blue.
Indigo.
Violet.
The paint was almost gone.
But it was still there.
At the seventh post, they found another bell.
It was much larger than the bells in Eddy’s box.
Rafiq pulled the rope.
DOOOONG.
The sound rolled through the valley.
Birds exploded from the trees.
Chang Yong jumped.
“Bro!”
Rafiq laughed.
“Relax!”
But Eddy wasn’t laughing.
He could hear something underneath the echo.
A second sound.
A softer one.
Dong… dong… ting.
The box in his hands began to ring.
The bells answered.
Seven beats.
Then silence.
Eddy looked at the ground.
There was a stone beneath a patch of moss.
He brushed it away.
A wooden plank was buried underneath.
Together, they pulled it free.
Underneath was a narrow opening.
“A tunnel?” Kumar whispered.
Not a tunnel.
A storage space.
Inside were old objects covered in dust.
Ropes.
Small bells.
Wooden markers.
And dozens of notebooks.
Abby picked up the nearest one.
The pages were brittle.
The writing was faded.
She carefully read the first page.
“This is a record.”
“Of what?”
“The rain.”
Eddy leaned closer.
The notebook contained dates, weather notes, sketches of the hills, and drawings of the village.
But one section caught his attention.
There was a map.
The village was marked with seven colored circles.
And beyond the seventh circle was a large rainbow.
Abby followed the map with her finger.
“The final bell.”
“What about it?”
“It’s not here.”
Eddy looked up.
“Then where is it?”
Rafiq pointed toward the highest hill.
“According to this…”
He swallowed.
“…up there.”
They looked at the hill.
Clouds were gathering.
Dark ones.
Heavy ones.
Chang Yong shook his head.
“We should go back.”
Nobody argued.
They packed the notebook and returned to the village.
By the time they reached the first houses, rain had begun falling.
Episode 4: The Sound in the Storm
That evening, the rain became enormous.
It hammered the rooftops.
Water rushed through the drains.
The wind bent the banana trees until their leaves slapped against one another.
Eddy sat beside his bedroom window.
The wooden box rested on his desk.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the missing bell.
At dinner, his mother noticed he was quiet.
“You okay?”
Eddy nodded.
“Just thinking.”
“That can be dangerous.”
He laughed.
Then he heard it.
Tang.
Eddy looked at the window.
Tong.
He stood.
Tang… tang… ting.
The rhythm.
Again.
Seven beats.
But this time, something was different.
The last beat was missing.
Eddy grabbed his raincoat.
His mother looked up.
“Where are you going?”
“To Abby’s house.”
“In this rain?”
“I’ll be quick!”
“Eddy!”
He stopped at the door.
“Don’t go near the hills!”
Eddy hesitated.
“Why?”
His mother looked worried.
“The stream is rising.”
Eddy looked outside.
She was right.
Water was already flowing along the road.
Then the wooden box rang again.
Tang… tang… ting.
Eddy understood.
The rhythm wasn’t asking him to find the final bell.
It was warning him.
The old trail.
The stream.
The hills.
Something was happening.
He ran to Abby’s house anyway—but not toward the hills.
He went straight to the community hall.
Rafiq, Kumar and Chang Yong were already there.
“The stream is overflowing,” Rafiq said.
“I know.”
Abby held the old notebook.
“Look.”
She pointed to a faded drawing.
It showed seven bells along the hillside.
Underneath were words:
When the seventh bell sounds, everyone must leave the lower path.
Eddy’s heart pounded.
“The seventh bell isn’t missing.”
“What?”
“It’s somewhere on the hill.”
“And?”
“And the rain is too heavy.”
Abby understood.
“If the bell rings…”
“It warns everyone.”
“But if nobody can hear it?”
Eddy looked at the dark hills.
“Then we need to make sure they can.”
Episode 5: The Climb
The four friends didn’t go alone.
They told the adults what they had found.
Soon, several villagers gathered at the community hall.
The rain continued pounding the village.
An older villager named Uncle Farid studied the old map.
“I remember this path,” he said.
“It was used years ago.”
“Can we reach the seventh bell?” Eddy asked.
Uncle Farid looked at the storm.
“Not safely.”
Eddy lowered his head.
Then Abby opened the notebook again.
“There may be another way.”
She pointed to a line drawn behind the hill.
“An old maintenance path.”
Uncle Farid stared.
“That path still exists?”
“We don’t know,” Abby said.
Eddy looked at the rain.
“We don’t need to climb all the way.”
Everyone looked at him.
“The old bells are connected.”
He held up the wooden box.
“If we ring these in the right rhythm, maybe the final bell will answer.”
Uncle Farid thought about it.
“Maybe.”
Eddy smiled.
“See? Maybe is useful.”
They followed the safer lower route with adults leading the way.
The rain weakened slightly.
Mist covered the hillside.
The seven colored posts appeared one after another.
Red.
Orange.
Yellow.
Green.
Blue.
Indigo.
Violet.
At the seventh post, Eddy lifted the wooden box.
He rang the first bell.
Tang.
A distant sound answered.
DONG.
Second.
Tong.
DONG.
Third.
Ting.
DONG.
The rhythm travelled through the hills.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Sixth.
Then the seventh.
Tin.
Silence.
Everyone waited.
Nothing happened.
Eddy’s stomach dropped.
“Maybe we’re wrong.”
Then—
DOOOOOONG.
The sound came from above.
Everyone looked up.
Through the mist, a dark shape appeared.
A bell.
Huge.
Old.
Hanging from a wooden frame at the top of the ridge.
It began to swing.
DOOOONG.
The sound rolled across the valley.
The villagers below began moving toward the safe gathering area.
The warning had worked.
But then the wooden frame creaked.
Eddy heard it.
So did Uncle Farid.
“The bell is coming loose!”
The rope had snapped.
The huge bell swung dangerously toward the edge of the ridge.
If it fell, it could smash through the old frame and tumble down the slope.
Eddy looked at the ropes.
Then at the old posts.
Then at the stream below.
“We need to secure it!”
An adult moved forward.
But the ground beneath him slipped.
Eddy grabbed his arm.
“Don’t!”
The mud was dangerously soft.
The bell swung again.
DOOOONG.
Eddy suddenly remembered the message.
Follow the rhythm, not the road.
The old bell wasn’t supposed to be reached by the road.
It was supposed to be reached by the rhythm.
He looked at the seven posts.
They formed a line.
And the rope connecting them was still there.
“A rope!”
Rafiq understood.
They pulled the old rope through the posts.
One by one.
The bell moved slightly.
“Again!” Eddy shouted.
Everyone pulled together.
The bell stopped swinging.
Uncle Farid secured the loose frame.
The danger passed.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Kumar laughed.
“We actually did it.”
Chang Yong grinned.
“We actually did it!”
Abby looked at Eddy.
“No.”
Eddy blinked.
“What?”
She smiled.
“We all did it.”
Episode 6: What the Rainbow Remembered
The rain finally stopped before midnight.
The clouds slowly opened.
Moonlight spilled over the hills.
And then the rainbow appeared again.
A pale night rainbow shimmered above the village.
Everyone stood outside the community hall watching it.
Eddy held the wooden box.
This time, the bells were silent.
He opened the old notebook.
Near the back was a final entry.
Abby read it aloud.
“The bells belong to everyone.
Their rhythm is not meant to belong to one person.
When people remember one another, the rainbow will always have a song.”
Eddy stared at the words.
“So that’s the legend.”
Uncle Farid nodded.
“Not treasure.”
“Not magic.”
“Maybe a little magic,” Rafiq said.
Eddy smiled.
The next morning, the villagers repaired the old bells.
They cleaned the colored posts.
They rebuilt the small shelters along the hillside.
The old path was marked again.
And the wooden box was placed safely inside the community hall.
Eddy expected the mystery to end there.
But it didn’t.
Because something else had changed.
The village had begun meeting again.
Children played together in the field.
Older villagers told stories about the hills.
Parents repaired old paths.
The schoolchildren painted new signs.
And every time heavy rain came, someone checked the bells.
The Rainbow Rhythm had returned.
Not because the rainbow itself had changed.
But because the people had remembered what they were supposed to remember.
Each other.
Episode 7: A New Rhythm
Three weeks later, Eddy stood at the old bridge.
The stream flowed quietly beneath him.
The wooden box was beside him.
Abby sat on the railing.
Rafiq was throwing pebbles into the water.
Kumar and Chang Yong were arguing over whose turn it was to carry the picnic bag.
Eddy smiled.
“You know,” he said, “I think I understand it now.”
Abby raised an eyebrow.
“Understand what?”
“The rainbow.”
She waited.
“It doesn’t really make a sound.”
Rafiq laughed.
“Here we go.”
Eddy ignored him.
“It reminds us to listen.”
Abby smiled.
“To what?”
Eddy looked toward the hills.
“To things we usually ignore.”
The breeze moved through the trees.
A dragonfly hovered above the stream.
Somewhere in the distance, a bird called.
Then the clouds parted.
A rainbow appeared.
Everyone stopped.
Red.
Orange.
Yellow.
Green.
Blue.
Indigo.
Violet.
Eddy reached for the wooden box.
But he didn’t open it.
He didn’t need to.
The sound was already there.
Not in the bells.
Not in the hills.
Not even in the sky.
It was in the laughter of his friends.
In the rushing stream.
In the rainwater dripping from the leaves.
In the village waking up after a storm.
In the voices calling one another home.
Eddy smiled.
“Listen.”
They all became quiet.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Rafiq whispered,
“I hear it.”
“What?”
“The rhythm.”
Abby nodded.
“So do I.”
Eddy looked at the rainbow.
Seven colors.
Seven beats.
One memory.
And suddenly he understood what his grandmother had meant all those years ago.
You didn’t listen to a rainbow with your ears.
You listened with your heart.
The rainbow stretched across the Taiping hills, bright against the clearing sky.
And beneath it, four friends stood together.
Not searching for treasure.
Not chasing a legend.
Just remembering that sometimes the most important things in life are the things people almost forget.
Friendship.
Courage.
Trust.
And the simple promise to never let someone face the storm alone.**
Years later, people in Kampung Bukit Serai would still tell stories about the Rainbow Rhythm.
Some would say the seven bells had magical powers.
Some would insist the old rainbow really did sing.
Children would ask whether Eddy had truly found the mysterious box beneath the bridge.
And Eddy would always smile.
“Yes.”
“Was it magic?”
He would think about it.
Then he would answer:
“Maybe.”
Because some mysteries were better left with a little wonder.
And whenever the rain fell heavily over the green hills, the villagers would listen.
First came the deep bell.
Tang.
Then another.
Tong.
Then the soft one.
Ting.
Seven beats travelled through the valley.
And somewhere above the village, a rainbow would rise.
Not as a promise of treasure.
Not as a secret waiting to be solved.
But as a reminder.
When the storm comes, listen for one another.
When the road disappears, stay together.
And when the colors return, remember.
The rainbow had never really been lost.
The village had simply forgotten how to hear its rhythm.
And now—
They remembered.
The End…
