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The Boy Who Befriended a Cloud Story

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In a small village surrounded by hills and fields, there lived a boy named Aryan. Aryan loved watching the sky.

He spent hours lying on the grass, looking at the clouds drifting by. He imagined them as fluffy animals, magical castles, and even friendly faces.

One day, while watching the clouds, he noticed something unusual. A small, lonely cloud had stopped right above him. It didn’t move with the wind like the others. It just hovered there, as if it was looking at him.“That’s strange,” Aryan said, sitting up. “Why aren’t you moving?”

To his surprise, the cloud floated lower, and a soft voice spoke. “Hello, Aryan.”

Aryan’s mouth dropped open. “You can talk?”

“Yes,” the cloud replied shyly. “But I don’t talk to many people. You seemed different, so I thought I’d say hello.”

Aryan grinned. “This is amazing! I’ve never talked to a cloud before. Do you have a name?”

The cloud thought for a moment. “You can call me Nimbus.”

“Nice to meet you, Nimbus!” Aryan said. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be up in the sky with the other clouds?”

Nimbus sighed. “I used to float with the others, but they said I was too small and couldn’t make rain like them. So, I left.”

Aryan felt sad for Nimbus. “That’s not fair. Just because you’re small doesn’t mean you’re not special.”

Nimbus brightened a little. “You think so?”

“Of course!” Aryan said. “Everyone has something unique about them. Maybe you just haven’t found your special talent yet.”

Nimbus floated in a happy little circle. “You’re kind, Aryan. Will you be my friend?”

“Of course,” Aryan said.

From that day, Aryan and Nimbus became the best of friends. Nimbus would float above Aryan wherever he went, shading him from the sun or making funny shapes to make him laugh. The villagers often looked up and wondered why Aryan always had a little cloud following him, but Aryan didn’t care.

One summer afternoon, the villagers gathered in the town square. The crops in the fields were dry, and the river was nearly empty. They were worried because it hadn’t rained for weeks.

“If it doesn’t rain soon, we’ll lose our crops,” an old farmer said.

Aryan looked up at Nimbus. “Maybe you can help!”

Nimbus shrank a little. “But I’m too small to make rain. That’s what the other clouds always said.”

Aryan placed his hands on his hips. “You don’t know until you try. I believe in you, Nimbus.”

Nimbus hesitated, but Aryan’s confidence gave him courage. “Okay, I’ll try!”

Nimbus floated high into the sky. He puffed himself up as much as he could, growing bigger and darker. The villagers watched in amazement as Nimbus turned into a large gray rain cloud. Suddenly, tiny drops of water began to fall.

“It’s raining!” the villagers cheered.

Nimbus worked hard, pouring rain over the fields and filling the river. The villagers danced with joy, thanking the sky for the rain. Nimbus felt proud for the first time in his life.

When the rain stopped, Nimbus floated back down to Aryan. “I did it!” Nimbus said, his voice full of excitement.

Aryan clapped his hands. “I knew you could! See? You are special.”

Nimbus beamed. From then on, Nimbus wasn’t lonely anymore. The other clouds noticed what he had done and welcomed him back into the sky. But Nimbus always stayed close to Aryan, visiting him whenever he could.

Aryan and Nimbus proved that even the smallest cloud—or person—could do great things with a little belief and friendship.

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