The Cloud Collector

It was the kind of evening where the sky turned a dull purple before the sun even set. A gust of wind played with the trees, sending whispers through the branches. In the quiet of the neighborhood, eleven-year-old Noah stood by the edge of his yard, a small, homemade net made of string and an old coat hanger in his hand. It looked like something from a forgotten science project, but it was his most prized possession.

He called it his “Cloud Collector.”

No one believed him, of course. They thought it was just a phase, some weird thing he’d outgrow in a few weeks. But Noah knew it wasn’t. He had seen the clouds change before, right before a big storm. They had a certain shape, a certain pattern, like they were speaking to him. He didn’t know how to explain it, but the clouds told him things.

He wasn’t crazy. He knew they were real.

Noah crouched down, scanning the horizon. The sky was still too clear. He was patient, though. Clouds always appeared at the right moment—just when they were needed most.

“You’re still doing that?” his older sister, Emma, called from the porch. She was sitting on the steps, scrolling through her phone, pretending to ignore him.

“Yep. I’m waiting for the clouds,” Noah replied without looking back. “They’re coming.”

Emma snorted, clearly amused. “Right. I’ll believe it when I see it, kid.”

Noah didn't respond. He knew he didn’t need to prove anything to her. The clouds always came, just like they always did. He had collected them before.

It wasn’t the first time Noah had caught a cloud. On a hot summer day, when the air felt thick like molasses, Noah had managed to capture a tiny, wispy cloud that had floated lazily by. He’d carefully placed it in a jar, and for a brief moment, he’d felt a warmth spread across his chest, like the whole world was holding its breath. But the jar wasn’t the thing that had changed.

It was the rain that followed. A few hours after he caught that little cloud, the sky opened up, pouring down a heavy rain that soaked the streets. It was like the cloud had been waiting for its chance to be free.

It wasn’t a coincidence. Noah was sure of it.

The next cloud he caught was different. It was darker, more ominous. A storm cloud. Noah had stood in the yard, watching it swirl ominously above, and he’d felt the air shift. This cloud wasn’t as willing to be caught, but Noah wasn’t afraid. He held his net high, the strings whipping in the wind as he tried to catch it.

When he did, the storm was fierce. The winds howled, the trees bent under pressure, and the rain poured down in sheets. The neighborhood lights flickered, but Noah stood there, his heart racing with excitement.

The cloud didn’t stay long. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could keep forever. But the memory of it lingered, like a secret shared between the boy and the sky.

That was a year ago.

Now, Noah was older, but his fascination with clouds had never faded. In fact, it had grown stronger. He had seen so many different types of clouds—fluffy cumulus clouds that brought fair weather, dark, towering cumulonimbus clouds that promised storms. But none had come lately, and Noah began to wonder if the clouds were getting tired of him.

But tonight, the air felt different. The sky was shifting, changing color. The temperature dropped a few degrees, and the wind picked up again. This time, it was like the air itself was alive, urging him to hurry.

Then, in the distance, he saw it. A giant storm cloud—so dark it seemed to swallow the light. It rolled in slowly at first, like a giant in the distance, unsure of whether it should come closer. Noah’s heart raced. This was it.

He held up his net, his fingers trembling with excitement. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to catch anymore. Was it just the clouds? Or something more—something deeper that he had never fully understood?

The cloud drifted closer, and Noah did something he’d never done before. He didn’t wait for it to come to him. He ran toward it, determined to reach the sky.

“Wait! Noah!” Emma shouted from behind him, but he was too focused to stop.

The cloud hovered above him now, its shadow stretching over the entire yard. Noah raised his net as high as he could. The wind screamed through the trees, pushing against him, but he stood his ground.

Just as his fingers brushed the edge of the cloud, something changed. The world grew silent, and the cloud seemed to soften, like it had been waiting for him all along. It floated gently into the net, a soft mist of rain dripping from it.

For a moment, Noah was weightless. His feet barely touched the ground. The cloud wasn’t heavy, nor was it light—it was alive with something bigger than just rain and wind.

As he lowered the net, he realized something: The cloud wasn’t just a collection of water droplets. It was something that could change the world, just like he had always believed.

The storm didn’t break that night. But Noah didn’t need it to. The air was thick with a new energy. The kind of energy that only comes when you’ve captured something you didn’t even know you were searching for.

And Noah knew that from now on, the clouds would always come when they were needed most.

lesson in the story:

"Belief in the unseen and the courage to follow your inner truth can lead to extraordinary discoveries. Noah’s quiet persistence and wonder show that even when others doubt you, staying true to your imagination and curiosity can connect you to something greater—something magical that only reveals itself to those who truly believe."

A Story By: Pir Ashfaq Ahmad