The Cloud Who Wanted to Paint

In a sky full of fluffy white clouds, there was one small, puffy cloud named Nimbus. While all the other clouds loved floating lazily across the sky, Nimbus had a dream. He wanted to paint.

“I’m tired of being plain and white,” Nimbus said one day, watching the sunrise. “The sky is so colorful—why can’t I be like that?”

The other clouds chuckled. “We’re just clouds, Nimbus. We can’t paint!”

But Nimbus didn’t listen. He watched the sunrise turn the sky into shades of pink and orange. He saw the rainbow after a rainstorm, and the fiery reds and golds of sunset. “If the sky can have all these colors, so can I!” he declared.

One day, Nimbus decided to chase his dream. First, he floated down to a flower field. “Excuse me, flowers,” he said shyly, “can I borrow some of your colors?”

The flowers swayed in the breeze. “Take a little of our pollen—it’s golden like the sun.”

Nimbus swooped low, brushing gently against the flowers. When he rose back into the sky, he noticed a faint golden shimmer in his puff. “It’s working!” he beamed.

Next, Nimbus visited a meadow where butterflies danced. Their wings were like tiny works of art. “Could I have some of your colors, too?” Nimbus asked politely.

The butterflies fluttered around him, leaving trails of color that swirled into his cloud. Now, Nimbus had specks of purple, blue, and pink. He felt like a masterpiece in the making.

Finally, Nimbus floated over a shimmering lake. “Mirror,” he whispered, “show me what I look like.”

The lake rippled as Nimbus peered into it. He wasn’t plain and white anymore. He was a cloud of many colors, glowing like the sunset.

That evening, as the other clouds gathered, they gasped. “Nimbus, you’re beautiful!” they said.

Nimbus grinned. “I wanted to show you that even a little cloud can dream big.”

As the stars twinkled above, Nimbus floated happily, painting the night sky with his colorful swirls.