X
Leo was a boy who appreciated quiet. He liked his toys arranged neatly in their bins, he liked his books stacked by size, and most importantly, he liked his bedtime to be perfectly silent. His room, located on the top floor of a tall, narrow brick house, was his sanctuary. When his father tucked him in, turned on the small star-shaped nightlight, and gently closed the door, Leo usually drifted off to sleep within minutes. The silence of the house was a heavy, comforting blanket that wrapped around him, keeping the bustling noises of the waking world far away.
But tonight, the silence was broken.
Leo lay in his bed, his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The hands on his glow-in-the-dark clock read a quarter past midnight, but he was nowhere near sleep. There was a sound. It was faint at first, a soft, rhythmic tapping that he thought might be a branch brushing against his window pane. But the air outside was completely still. No, the sound was coming from inside his room.
Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. Splat.
Leo frowned. He pushed his heavy blue comforter down to his waist and listened intently. It sounded exactly like rain, but that was impossible. The roof had just been fixed last summer, and besides, he could see the clear, starry sky through his window. Slowly, he slid out of bed, his bare feet touching the soft, braided rug on his floor. He followed the sound toward the far corner of his room, near his bookshelf.
He gasped. Hovering just a few inches below the ceiling, right above his favorite beanbag chair, was a cloud.
It was tiny, no larger than a beach ball, and it was a dark, bruised shade of purple and gray. It looked like a miniature thunderhead, churning and rolling within itself. And from its fluffy, dark belly, tiny, sparkling drops of water were falling, hitting the fabric of the beanbag chair with a soft splat. Every few seconds, the little cloud would let out a sound that resembled a tiny hiccup, followed by a microscopic flash of lightning that illuminated the corner of the room.
The cloud was crying.
Leo’s initial shock melted into a deep, empathetic warmth. He didn’t feel afraid. The cloud looked so small, so out of place, and so incredibly sad. Leo tiptoed to his closet and pulled out his bright yellow raincoat and a small red umbrella. If he was going to interact with a storm, even a tiny one, he wanted to be prepared. He slipped the coat on over his pajamas, popped the umbrella open, and slowly approached the corner.
“Hello?” Leo whispered softly, trying not to startle it. “Are you lost?”
The little cloud stopped raining for a fraction of a second. It spun around in the air, its dark, swirling vapors shifting to look at him. It let out a small, trembling rumble that sounded remarkably like a whimper. It drifted a few inches lower, hovering just outside the edge of Leo’s red umbrella.
“It’s okay,” Leo said, his voice as gentle as a summer breeze. He reached his hand out, palm up, extending it past the umbrella. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m Leo. You’re safe here.”
The cloud hesitated, flashing a tiny, nervous spark of yellow lightning. Then, ever so slowly, it drifted down. It settled into the palm of Leo’s hand. It felt incredible—like holding a puff of cold, damp cotton candy that vibrated with a soft, electric hum. As Leo cradled it, gently stroking its misty top with his thumb, a remarkable transformation occurred. The dark, bruised purple color began to fade. The angry gray dissipated. Within moments, the little cloud turned a soft, glowing, pearlescent white. The rain stopped entirely, replaced by a scent of fresh ozone and crushed lavender.
The cloud let out a soft, contented puff of air, nuzzling against Leo’s fingers like a sleepy kitten.
“You must have fallen,” Leo murmured, looking up at his ceiling, and then out his window to the vast night sky. “You belong up there. With the stars.”
As if responding to his words, a change occurred outside. The moon, which had been hidden behind the neighbor’s chimney, shifted. A single, brilliant beam of pure, silvery moonlight pierced through the glass of Leo’s window. But it didn’t just shine on the floor. The light solidified. It hit the wooden floorboards and began to fold upward, creating a glowing, translucent step. Then another step formed above it, and another, building a shimmering, angled staircase that extended right out the open window and up into the endless, dark sky.
The little cloud vibrated with excitement, floating up from Leo’s hand and darting toward the open window, before turning back and bumping gently against Leo’s cheek. It wanted him to follow.
Leo looked at his warm, safe bed, and then at the glowing, magical staircase leading to the heavens. He took a deep breath, tightening the belt of his yellow raincoat. He folded his red umbrella and tucked it under his arm. With the little glowing cloud bobbing eagerly beside his head, Leo stepped onto the first rung of moonlight, ready to return a piece of the sky to its home.
