The Orange Leaf's Wish

Once there was a little orange leaf named Pip, clinging to the branch of an old oak tree. Pip was the last leaf left, shivering as autumn winds howled through the forest.

'I don't want to fall alone,' Pip whispered.

One gusty morning, Pip let go. Down, down, down he spun—right into a backyard fishpond!

SPLASH!

Pip floated there, feeling very sorry for himself, when something shimmering swam near. It was a goldfish with scales like tiny sunsets, flashing coral and peach and amber.

'Hello!' said the goldfish. 'I'm Glub. Are you a new kind of lily pad?'

'I'm Pip,' said the leaf. 'And I think I'm stuck.'

Glub circled him. 'You're not stuck. You're visiting!' The goldfish did a happy flip. 'Want to see something magical?'

Pip perked up. 'Magic?'

'Close your eyes and wish,' Glub said mysteriously.

Pip squeezed his eyes shut. 'I wish to have adventures. I wish to see the world. I wish to never be lonely again.'

Suddenly, Pip felt warm—like he was drinking sunlight. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't just floating anymore. He was GLIDING! Pip had grown tiny wings, translucent and glowing, like dragonfly wings made of stained glass.

'You wished with all your heart,' Glub said, dancing around him. 'And magic heard you.'

Together, leaf and fish explored the pond kingdom. Pip met water beetles who told jokes, watched dragonflies paint rainbows across the surface, and helped a lost duckling find its mother. His orange color made everyone smile, bright like a little piece of sunshine on the water.

As winter approached, Glub grew worried. 'Pip, I sleep deep in the mud when it gets cold. Where will you go?'

Pip thought about his wish. 'I wished to see the world,' he said slowly. 'And I wished to never be lonely again.' He looked at his new friend. 'I think magic gave me the answer.'

Pip flew to the garden and buried himself in the warm earth, dreaming of spring.

When spring came, Pip woke up as a tiny orange sprout. Over months, he grew into a beautiful sapling. And there, right beside his roots, was the fishpond—where Glub swam, still flashing colors like tiny sunsets.

Pip had rooted and grown a home. But best of all, he had grown right next to his friend.

'Friends never really leave,' Glub said, splashing water at Pip's leaves. 'They just grow closer.'