I felt the cloud had a story to tell

I live in Independence, MO - a suburb of Kansas City.

Last night and early this morning we had some thunderstorms pass through. It had just finished raining as I left for work this morning, so as I drove, I was heading in the opposite direction of the storm, and got to see some of the remnants.

I suddenly saw these little wisps of clouds, well below the others. They were moving rapidly, and for some reason, some really strange reason, I felt they had a story to tell.

I’m by no means a writer. I don’t just sit down and write stories, but I felt this urge to write something. I had this feeling like there was something there, and the rest of my drive into work, I outlined it in my head. So I wrote it. I haven’t really proofread it, I skimmed through it once and added some detail, but other than that, this is how it came out. It’s raw, and I’m sure filled with errors.

So, here it is. I feel kind of dumb writing this, but I’m going to go ahead and put it out there… Here goes:



High in the mountains, a small stream flows, growing wider as it begins to form into a raging river. The water cutting a path into the earth as it pushes forward, every drop having a singular goal: reach the ocean. They twist and turn, sometimes joining with other rivers and streams in order to accomplish this goal.



Not all of the water will make it, however. Some will stagnate in ponds and lakes, but many won’t even make it that far. While some will splash onto the banks and soak into the ground, much of it will evaporate in the hot sun in areas where the water rests from the harsh journey. Do not feel sad for this water, for while it has not reached its destination, like many of us it’s journey is just beginning. A new life is forming. This is where we begin our story.

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The river is calm. It has reached a level spot in the earth, and it hasn’t received a decent rain in days that would act as its backup to push the group forward. As the days have passed, the river has become shallow, almost motionless, as tiny droplets become a gas in the hot sun and rise into the air.

Millions of these vapors ascend together, unaware of what they’re becoming. As they rise the air becomes thinner, colder. They begin to condense, searching for warmth in each other, coming together as one. Soon, a small cloud forms.

This little white puff cloud becomes aware of the clouds around it. They are all seemingly joyful of the new arrival, especially the two larger cumulus clouds it formed between. Mom? Dad? the small cloud thinks.

The cumulus clouds around it seem to beam with pride. Pride of this little bundle of joy they were going to raise as their own.

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As the days pass, the small family flies together through the atmosphere. Racing each other in the wind, bouncing along in the sunshine. They were happy.

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In the distance, a darkness loomed. The temperature of the air began to drop, and our small family drew close together.

The little cloud started to worry. It slowed its speed and watched as the only family it knows headed straight toward the darkness. The two cumulus clouds made known their love for the little cloud as the distance began to separate their family. They left the little one behind as they grew in sadness and darkness themselves. Forming together, growing larger, they raced toward war.

NO! MOM! DAD! NO! COME BACK! the little cloud begged. NOOOO! it screamed.

The cumulus clouds became one, charging into the battlefield. Terrified, the little cloud stayed back, watching its family disappear into the fray.

Light streaked across the sky. Explosions all around. Water spilled out as the battle raged. It was violent, dark, horrifying. The little cloud screamed over and over until it couldn’t any longer. It moved along slowly behind the battle, keeping its distance.

After what seemed like days, the tensions in front of him died down. The war was breaking up, and the survivors were limping their way off on their own.

The sun started to shine as the small cloud rushed ahead, hoping to see its family. It looked, hopeful that they survived. Searching the scattered clouds from the battle, it began to despair.

Our little cloud started to accept its family was gone. In its pursuit it had broken up and become mere wisps of what it once was. It could no longer search and it slowed to a stop.

It began to weep. Completely broken, it let its emotions flow, and pieces of it started to fall toward the planet below.

Too late, it realized that it was coming apart and the small cloud was only droplets of water returning to the earth.

Separated from even itself, the cloud gave up. It floated along with the water that had been spilled in the horrific battle above, unaware of its surroundings. It was slipping into a depression from all of the loss it had just suffered. Its world had been shattered.

Now, the story of this poor little cloud could end here. It is no longer a cloud floating along happily above us. Its pieces are scattered around after the war that had raged above.

However, it wasn’t the end. Just like when times are rough for us, things were about to turn around for our little cloud.

Floating along, it began to feel strange. The droplets around it seemed elated. Our little cloud started to realize where it was.

It had succeeded. The journey didn’t go at all as planned, but these little droplets of water had arrived at their destination.

The ocean.

While the droplets around it had noticed before our little cloud, it began to slip out of its depression. It realized that it had finally made it, even though along the way it had forgotten about its goal.

It started to notice the droplets around it seemed familiar. They seemed to recognize it, and it finally clicked.

It had finally been reunited with its family. They’d been right beside our little cloud during his time of darkness, the whole time. Surrounding it, and floating along in the ocean with it while it took the time to heal.

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This is where the story of our little cloud ends. Like many of us, there was a time when it felt broken and alone, not what it once was. It had changed and it didn’t feel like itself anymore.

Even though it had forgotten its purpose, its dream, its goal; the cloud made it through. It had times of joy, and times of sorrow. It suffered elation and defeat, it felt loved and it felt lost, but it still made it.

Now, though our story may be over, this little cloud will continue on. It will continue to be lifted up, and it will continue to be brought down again into depths it can’t even imagine - but it will always survive, and keep pressing forward.





-K. Savage