The Boy Who Found the Sun

The Boy Who Found the Sun

BY: Ubaid

In a land where winter never seemed to end, and where the earth slept under a thick blanket of snow, there was a place called Tundra — a frozen world of silence, wind, and light. The people who lived there were called Eskimos, strong-hearted folk who knew how to survive where the sun forgot to rise for months.

Among them lived a young boy named Nezar, with his mother, father, and a loyal sled dog named Push. His father raised reindeer, animals with strong antlers and thick fur that helped them endure the biting cold. Life in the Tundra meant moving from one pasture to another, always following the herds and the promise of food.

Nezar never went to school; his classroom was the open white world around him, and his teacher was his father — who taught him how to track snow paths, read the winds, and care for their animals.

For months, the sun hid below the horizon, leaving the world in endless night. But the darkness was not complete. The sky would often dance — green, pink, and blue ribbons of light streaming across the heavens. The Aurora Borealis. To Nezar, it looked like the sky had come alive.

Sometimes the lights looked like green curtains fluttering across the stars; sometimes like thousands of blue arrows shooting across the night. He would sit on the snow and whisper in awe, “Will the stars follow us when we move to another pasture, Father?”

His father would chuckle and pat his head. “Yes, my son. The stars know our way better than we do.”

Still, Nezar missed the sun. “Maybe the sun forgot us,” he would say softly. “Maybe it got lost and can’t find the way back.”

His father always smiled. “The sun never forgets its children. Look over there — between those mountains. Doesn’t it look like fire? That’s dawn trying to find its way home.”

Nezar’s eyes would widen. “So the sun is coming back?”

“Yes,” his father said. “Just wait a little longer. When the sun returns, the snow will melt, and the grass will wake up again.”

Nezar imagined the bright green grass bursting from the snow, the reindeer leaping with joy, and the Tundra turning alive again.

One day, as he watched the horizon glow faintly red, a strange roar filled the air. The wind seemed to tremble, and the sunlight dimmed. It wasn’t a storm — it was an airplane passing low over their land. The reindeer panicked, stamping their hooves and snorting in fear.

Nezar grew angry. He waved his hands furiously, signaling the plane to fly higher. “Go away! You scared them!” he shouted. Beside him, Push barked loudly, echoing his master’s anger.

From the cockpit, the pilot must have seen the boy’s signal, for the plane rose higher into the glowing sky. As it climbed, its body turned from silver to fiery red, then orange — catching the light of the hidden sun. Nezar stared in wonder.

“If only there were a tall tree,” he thought, “I could climb and finally see the sun.” But the Tundra’s birch trees were small and twisted — they barely rose above the snow.

Just then, a flash of white darted across the snow — a snow fox. Push barked and gave chase, his paws kicking up powdery snow. The fox was faster, vanishing like a ghost. “Push! Come back!” Nezar shouted. The dog stopped, barked twice — as if warning the fox not to return — and trotted back.

Suddenly, the wind grew wild. Snow began to swirl in thick waves. The light faded until the world turned gray. “A blizzard,” Nezar whispered. “We must go home.”

He called Push, but the wind screamed so loud that his voice was lost. The snow cut against his face like knives. He remembered what his father had told him: When a snowstorm comes, even dogs know to dig into the snow. It’s cold, but it saves you from the wind.

Nezar looked at Push. “You’re the smart one,” he said. “We’ll do what you do.”

He unhooked Push from the sled and curled beside him. Together they lay down in the snow. It was freezing, but the snow slowly piled up around them, shielding them from the howling storm. Nezar trembled, thinking about the warmth of home, his mother’s fire, and the soft furs on their bed.

Soon, exhaustion overcame him. He drifted into a strange sleep, dreaming that his mother was calling his name through the storm. He saw his father’s face too — worried, searching, shouting. The barking of dogs echoed around him.

Suddenly, someone was shaking him. The barking grew louder. Nezar blinked, brushing snow from his eyelashes. It wasn’t a dream anymore. His father was standing over him, pulling him up from the snow.

“Nezar! What were you thinking?” his father shouted, his face both angry and relieved. “You could’ve been lost forever in that blizzard!”

Nezar looked down, ashamed but calm. “I wasn’t alone,” he said quietly. “Push was with me. We were looking for the sun. It got lost.”

His father’s expression softened. He looked toward the horizon and smiled faintly. “The sun wasn’t lost, my son. Look — there it is.”

Nezar turned. The storm had passed. The sky blushed with light. On the far edge of the world, a golden sphere was rising, spilling warmth across the frozen land. The snow sparkled like crushed diamonds. The reindeer lifted their heads; even Push wagged his tail.

Nezar’s eyes filled with joy. “I found it, Father!” he shouted. “I found the sun!”

His father laughed, holding him close. And as the light spread across the endless white fields, it seemed as if the whole Tundra had come alive again — glowing, breathing, reborn.

For the first time in months, the boy who searched for the sun stood in its warmth — and it felt like hope itself.