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Mina and a tiny dragon beneath a sky of clouds.A STORYNIGHTS ORIGINAL
A LITTLE WORLD TO STEP INTO

The Cloud Collector

Some things are too lovely to keep.

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Ages 6–83 min read10 pagesfantasy
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A Storynights original, ready to read and listen together.

Once upon this story…

Mina collected things that other people walked past: blue pebbles, bent feathers, and the tiny sounds inside empty shells. Then one Tuesday, a cloud landed on her windowsill.

It was no bigger than a dumpling. Mina put it in a jam jar with three air holes. “Excellent,” said her dragon, Fig. “A pet with no feet to wipe.” The cloud made a small, rude thunder noise.

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A pocketful of weather

Mina collected things that other people walked past: blue pebbles, bent feathers, and the tiny sounds inside empty shells. Then one Tuesday, a cloud landed on her windowsill.

It was no bigger than a dumpling. Mina put it in a jam jar with three air holes.

“Excellent,” said her dragon, Fig. “A pet with no feet to wipe.”

The cloud made a small, rude thunder noise.

The collection grows

By Friday, seven jars stood beside Mina’s bed. One cloud looked like a rabbit. One looked like Fig, if Fig had eaten a piano.

Fig liked that one best.

But outside, the sky was empty. The bean plants drooped. The ducks sat in a pond shaped like a puddle.

Mina’s grandmother turned a bucket upside down. Nothing fell out.

“Strange sort of weather,” she said.

What a cloud needs

That night, Mina heard tapping. In every jar, a cloud pressed against the lid. The rabbit cloud had lost an ear.

“Maybe they’re hungry,” Fig said. He offered a biscuit.

The biscuit became damp.

Mina carried the smallest jar to the window. Far away, one last cloud drifted over the hills. Her cloud stretched toward it.

“Oh,” Mina said.

She understood that kind of reaching. It was how she felt when Grandma’s train arrived.

A very different collection

They took the jars to the tallest hill. Mina unscrewed the first lid. A little wisp curled around her finger, then hurried into the sky.

One by one, she opened every jar. Fig waved the biscuit goodbye.

The clouds gathered into a great, soft jumble. The rabbit became a boat, then a mountain, then something that might have been a piano-eating dragon.

A raindrop landed on Mina’s nose.

“Thank you,” said the thirsty grass, in the only way grass can.

Something to keep

At home, Mina put a piece of paper in each empty jar. On the first she drew a rabbit. On the second, the hill. On the third, a very damp dragon.

“Are we still collectors?” Fig asked.

“Yes,” Mina said. “But a different kind.”

Now Mina collects afternoons. And surprises. And things that change shape while you’re looking.

Sometimes a cloud pauses outside her window. She opens it wide.

Fig keeps a biscuit nearby.

Just in case.

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