Way up in the sky, where the air is crisp and the world looks tiny below, there floated a small, fluffy cloud named Nimbus. He wasn’t big and powerful like the storm clouds, nor was he wispy and graceful like the cirrus clouds. He was just… Nimbus.
But he had a dream.
Every night, as he drifted through the sky, he gazed at the stars twinkling above. They were so bright, so magical. They seemed to dance, sending silver light across the night.
“I want to shine like that,” Nimbus thought. “I don’t want to be just another cloud. I want to be special!”
So, one evening, as the sky darkened, he floated up to a bright star.
“Excuse me,” he said shyly, “how do you glow like that? Could I be a star too?”
The star flickered kindly. “Oh, little cloud, I shine because I am made of fire and light. You, my friend, are made of water and air.”
Nimbus frowned. “But I want to shine! I don’t want to just float around.”
The star twinkled again. “Every cloud has its own kind of magic. You’ll find yours one day.”
But Nimbus didn’t want to wait. He wanted to glow now!
So, he set off on an adventure. First, he visited the Moon, who hung in the sky like a giant pearl.
“Dear Moon,” Nimbus called, “you shine so beautifully. Can you teach me how?”
The Moon smiled softly. “Oh, sweet cloud, I do not shine on my own. I borrow my light from the Sun.”
Nimbus’s puffy cheeks brightened. “Then I must find the Sun!”
He floated and floated until the golden Sun blazed in front of him. Its warmth wrapped around him like a hug.
“Oh great Sun,” Nimbus said eagerly, “may I borrow some of your light?”
The Sun chuckled. “Little one, my light is too strong for you. If I gave it to you, you would disappear into mist!”
Nimbus sighed. It seemed no one could help him. Maybe he was just meant to be an ordinary cloud after all.
Just then, a cool breeze swirled around him.
“Why do you want to be a star?” the wind whispered.
“Because stars are special,” Nimbus said. “They sparkle and shine. Everyone notices them.”
The wind laughed gently. “Oh, but clouds have their own kind of magic.”
Nimbus blinked. “Really?”
“You’ll see,” the wind said, swirling away.
Nimbus wasn’t sure what that meant, but he had no choice but to keep floating. Days passed. He watched the golden sunsets, played with the other clouds, and let the wind carry him wherever it pleased.
Then, one stormy evening, something strange happened. Nimbus felt heavier, darker. The air around him crackled. His soft, puffy body filled with energy.
And then—BOOM!
A bright, dazzling bolt of lightning flashed from within him, streaking across the sky.
Nimbus gasped. He was glowing!
Thunder rumbled, and again—CRACK!—a spark of light shot through the sky. Down below, children pointed and gasped in awe.
“Look at that storm cloud!” they cried. “It’s lighting up the whole sky!”
Nimbus felt something warm inside him, something even brighter than any star.
The wind had been right. He didn’t need to be a star. He had found his own way to shine.
And so, as the storm faded and the sky grew peaceful again, Nimbus drifted along, feeling proud. He was a cloud—and he was extraordinary.
