The Baseball That Flew to the Moon

Lily loved her grandpa's old baseball. It wasn't shiny like the new ones, but it had stories in its scratches. Every Saturday, they'd play catch in the backyard. Grandpa's white hair would sparkle in the sun like fresh snow.

One day, Lily threw the ball higher than ever before. Higher than the oak tree. Higher than the clouds. It didn't come down.

"That's strange," Grandpa said, pulling out his iphone. He didn't use it for games—just for calling Lily's mom and looking at the stars. "See that bright light? That's Taurus, the bull constellation. Your ball might be visiting him."

Lily giggled. But that night, she dreamed she was swimming through a river of stars, following her baseball. It glowed like a little moon, leading her to a giant bull made of stardust.

"You threw beautifully," the bull said softly. His voice sounded like wind chimes. "Would you like to play catch?"

They played across the galaxy. The baseball left trails of rainbow light whenever it flew. Lily felt light as a feather, floating through constellations.

"Time to go home," the bull said finally. "But keep throwing, Lily. Every throw is an adventure."

Lily woke up to something tapping on her window. Her baseball! But now it had a tiny sparkle, like it remembered where it had been.

Grandpa was in the garden, his messy hair sticking up like he'd just woken up. "Did you sleep well?"

"Grandpa," Lily whispered, "I think my ball went on an adventure."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Then we better practice. Who knows where it'll go next?"

And every throw after that, Lily imagined the bull watching, ready to catch.

THE END