The Cloud That Couldn’t Cry - Children ebooks

The Cloud That Couldn’t Cry Up high in the blue sky, where clouds float like dreams and the sun plays hide-and-seek, there lived a tiny cloud named Nimbus. He was the smallest cloud in Skyland, and perhaps the softest too. But there was one big problem. Nimbus couldn’t cry. Now, for most clouds, crying was important — not the sad kind of crying, but the

kind that made rain fall to water flowers, fill lakes, and cool the earth. Every cloud had a job. Some brought gentle showers to thirsty farms. Some made snowy flakes that danced over hills. And the big ones? They boomed with thunder and flashed with lightning to wake up sleepy skies. Nimbus, however, could only puff and float. He tried everything. He squeezed his middle,

puffed up his cheeks, spun in little circles… but not a single raindrop ever came. Other clouds would giggle kindly. “Don’t worry, little one,” said Cumulus, a big friendly fluff. “You’re just young. Your rain will come.” But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into seasons. Still… no rain. Nimbus began to believe something was wrong with him. Maybe he wasn’t a real cloud

at all. Maybe he was just… sky fluff. One morning, the Sky Council — a wise group of ancient clouds shaped like grand mountains — announced a challenge. “The Earth is drying,” said Grandfather Stormus, whose voice rolled like thunder. “The Windy Hills need rain, but the path is blocked by the Heat Haze. We need a brave cloud to find a new route.” All

clouds looked at each other. The Heat Haze was tricky. It made clouds dizzy and confused. Only the clever and light-footed could pass it. “I’ll go,” said Nimbus, to everyone’s surprise. Whispers floated through the sky. “But you’ve never rained,” said Cirra, a swift and breezy cloud. “That’s why I must go,” Nimbus said, his voice shaky but brave. “I want to help.” The Council

hesitated… then nodded. And so, with the sun at his back and the wind at his side, Nimbus began his journey. The sky grew warmer as he flew toward the south. The blue began to shimmer, and the clouds around him faded away. Soon, he was all alone above the vast, dry lands. The Heat Haze rose like steam from below. It twisted the air,

made it dance and bend. Nimbus felt woozy. He tried to stay steady, but the warm air made him wobble. He thought of turning back. But then he remembered the flowers that needed water, the animals looking for cool shade, and the children who danced in puddles. He pushed forward. Then, just as the shimmer seemed too much, he spotted something far below — a

hill covered in ash-gray grass and a single crooked tree. Beneath it sat a girl with dusty shoes, holding an empty water jug. Nimbus floated lower. The girl looked up and smiled a tired smile. “Hello, little cloud,” she whispered. “You look sad.” Nimbus wanted to say, “I’m not sad. I just can’t do what clouds are supposed to do.” But clouds can’t talk to

people. So he just hovered gently, trying to feel… something. The girl sighed. “I come here every day, hoping a cloud will cry. Just a few drops. Just enough to grow one flower for my mother.” Nimbus trembled. He wanted to cry. He really did. He squeezed, puffed, spun — nothing. Then the girl stood, took off her red scarf, and waved it at him.

“I’ll give you my favorite scarf,” she said. “Maybe that will help.” Nimbus blinked. No one had ever given him anything before. A soft warmth filled his fluffy heart. And then — plip. One tiny droplet. Then another. Plip. Plop. Drip. A soft rain began to fall, landing on the girl’s cheeks, her hands, her jug. The gray grass shimmered with life. The earth drank

greedily. The crooked tree sighed and stretched. Nimbus couldn’t believe it. He was crying! Beautiful, life-giving tears! The girl laughed and spun in circles, catching the rain in her scarf. “You did it!” she shouted. “You’re a real cloud!” Nimbus twirled above her, proud and light. The Heat Haze, now cooled by the rain, faded into mist. The path was clear. Nimbus rushed back toward

Skyland, a trail of soft rain behind him. When he returned, the Sky Council was speechless. The clouds gathered around him, cheering and hugging with fluffy arms. “You’ve done more than bring rain,” said Grandfather Stormus. “You’ve brought hope.” From that day on, Nimbus became the special cloud for places that other clouds forgot. He visited dry deserts, lonely valleys, and quiet gardens. He cried

when others couldn’t. Not because he was sad… but because he finally understood that even the smallest cloud can carry the biggest love. And sometimes, the softest hearts make the most beautiful rain.

Moral: Everyone has their own time to shine — or rain. Just because you can’t do something now doesn’t mean you never will. Believe in your heart, and it will find its way to help the world.The End

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let's Talk About a Story!

1.Nimbus felt like he wasn't a "real cloud" because he couldn't rain. Have you ever felt like you weren't good enough at something? What did you do?
2.Why do you think the girl's kindness was the "magic" that helped Nimbus finally rain?
3.The story says, "Everyone has their own time to shine." What does this mean to you?
4.Nimbus's job was to help forgotten places. What is one small way you can help someone or something that others might have forgotten?