The Cloud Who Wanted to Be a Star

High above the mountains, in a sky brushed with soft blues and golden rays, floated a small, fluffy cloud named Nimbus. Unlike the other clouds, who loved drifting lazily through the sky, Nimbus had a secret wish.

He didn’t want to be a cloud.

He wanted to be… a star.

Every night, when the sky turned navy and the stars blinked into view, Nimbus would gaze up longingly. “How they sparkle,” he sighed. “They shine so bright and everyone loves them. I’m just a puff of mist.”

The Moon overheard him one night and smiled gently. “But dear Nimbus,” she said, “you bring shade on hot days and water to the thirsty earth. You have your own light — just not the same kind.”

Nimbus drooped. “It’s not enough. I want to shine.”

So, the next day, Nimbus decided to change.

First, he tried stretching into sharp points like a star. But he just ended up looking like a lopsided sheep. Birds flew by, giggling.

Then, he flew higher and higher, thinking maybe the stars lived up there. But the air grew thin, and Nimbus felt dizzy and cold. “Maybe this isn’t for me after all…”

Still, he didn’t give up.

That night, a bright shooting star dashed across the sky. Nimbus gasped. “Excuse me!” he called. “How do I become a star like you?”

The star paused mid-streak and laughed. “Little cloud, you don’t need to be a star. You just need to be your best self. Shine in your way!”

Before Nimbus could reply, the star zipped out of sight.

Nimbus floated quietly, unsure what that meant.

Days passed, and Nimbus watched other clouds become rain, shade, and sometimes even rainbows. But he didn’t feel special. Not yet.

Then one afternoon, Nimbus noticed the sun scorching a meadow below. The flowers were wilting, and animals hid in the shade. Without thinking, Nimbus drifted over and cast a cool shadow. The flowers perked up, and a deer came out to drink from the pond.

“Thank you, cloud!” chirped a little sparrow, fluttering in the shade.

Nimbus blinked. “You’re welcome…”

He stayed a little longer. The heat lessened. A breeze returned. The world below began to breathe again.

That evening, the sun dipped low and bathed the sky in oranges and pinks. Nimbus, now soaked with the day’s warmth and water, felt something strange stir within him.

And then—it happened.

Nimbus glowed.

The light of the sunset caught him just right, painting him in gold, rose, and lavender. People below looked up in awe.

“Look!” cried a child. “That cloud looks like it's glowing!”

Others took pictures, pointed, and smiled.

For a moment, Nimbus felt something he’d never felt before. He wasn’t twinkling like a star, no—but he was shining in his own way.

That night, when the stars came out again, Nimbus didn’t feel jealous. He floated gently under the moonlight, reflecting a silver sheen.

“You see now?” whispered the Moon. “Stars shine in the night. Clouds shine during the day. You light up the world when it needs you most.”

Nimbus beamed, not with starlight, but with self-worth.

From that day on, he stopped trying to be a star. Instead, he became the best cloud he could be — giving rain when the earth was dry, shade when the sun was harsh, and joy when he shaped himself into funny animals.

And sometimes, just as the sun was setting, he painted the sky with the colors of dreams.

________________________________________

Moral of the Story:

"You don’t have to shine like someone else to be special. Being yourself is its own kind of light."