When the sun slips behind the hills and the world grows quiet, little stars begin to glow high above the Earth. After a long day, they get sleepy, too.
Each little star has a cloud of its own. The cloud is a soft pillow that rocks its star gently until morning.
This is a little star named Twinkle. And this is her cloud, Puff. Puff is small, soft, and white—light as a feather.
The sun sinks lower, painting the sky peach and pink. Twinkle yawns, “Yaaawn…” It is time to curl up on Puff.
Just then, a playful breeze swoops in. Whoooosh! Puff tumbles across the sky and flies away.
“Puff! Where are you?” Twinkle calls. She looks to the right. She looks to the left. But Puff is nowhere to be seen.
She has to find him. Without Puff, Twinkle simply cannot fall asleep.
Twinkle flies down toward the dark forest. Rustle, rustle, rustle. She searches between the trees, lighting the way with her warm glow.
Under a great oak tree lies a sleepy Bear.
“Have you seen my cloud? He is small, soft, and white,” Twinkle asks.
“No,” Bear mumbles. “But I have a soft tummy. Come lie down on me.”
Twinkle lies on Bear’s tummy. It is soft. It is warm. But it is very furry, and the tiny hairs tickle her cheeks.
It is soft, Twinkle thinks, but it does not feel cloud-soft.
Soon Bear falls asleep. Snorrrre, snorrrre! His tummy rises and falls, and Twinkle bobs up and down like a little boat.
Twinkle quietly gets up. “Thank you, Bear. Your tummy is very soft, but I have to find my Puff.” She waves goodbye and flies on.
Beyond the forest is a quiet meadow. A little Bunny is resting in the grass.
“Have you seen my cloud? He is small, soft, and white,” Twinkle asks.
“No,” Bunny whispers. “But I have a long, soft ear. Come lie down on it.”
Twinkle lies on Bunny’s ear. It is as smooth as velvet. But the ear wiggles and tickles her cheek. “Hee-hee! Hee-hee!” Twinkle giggles.
It is soft, she thinks, but it does not feel cloud-soft.
“Thank you, Bunny. Your ear is very soft, but I have to find my Puff.” Twinkle waves and flies toward the edge of the meadow.
An Owl sits on an old fence. Owl does not sleep at night. She watches over the meadow and the forest.
“Have you seen my cloud? He is small, soft, and white,” Twinkle asks.
“Hoo-hoo, I have,” Owl says. “The breeze blew him high into the sky—all the way to the Moon.”
“Thank you!” Twinkle calls, and she flies up. Rustle, rustle, rustle. Higher and higher she climbs.
Twinkle is very tired. Her eyelids grow heavier and heavier… but she does not give up.
And there beside the Moon, she sees something small, soft, and white.
“Puff!” cries Twinkle. “Twinkle!” cries Puff. They hurry toward each other and hug as tightly as they can.
A moment later, the breeze returns. This time he blows ever so softly. Whooo…
“I’m sorry, Twinkle,” he says shyly. “I did not mean to blow Puff so far away. From now on, I will blow much more gently.”
Twinkle smiles. “I forgive you.”
At last, Twinkle curls up on Puff. Soft and cozy. Light as a feather. Perfectly cloud-soft. The Moon shines above them while Puff rocks her gently.
Before closing her eyes, Twinkle peeks down at the sleeping world one last time.
“Goodnight, Bear. Goodnight, Bunny. Goodnight, Owl.”
“Goodnight, Moon. Goodnight, Puff,” Twinkle whispers.
She closes her eyes and gives one last tiny glow.
Twinkle…
And then the whole sky sleeps peacefully.
The End.
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