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Pipkin and the Courage Wind
Once, in a green meadow, lived a tiny sprite named Pipkin. He was no bigger than a dewdrop on a blade of grass. Pipkin had a small house under a friendly red mushroom. He liked his home very much. But Pipkin was very shy. He was afraid of many things. He was afraid of the big butterflies. He was afraid of the noisy crickets. Most of all, he was afraid of the wind. When the wind blew, Pipkin would hide deep under his mushroom cap. He would stay there until the wind was gone.
The meadow had many happy creatures. There were busy Buzzers, who flew from flower to flower. There were slow, gentle Grubblers, who ate sweet berries. Everyone worked and played. But Pipkin just watched from his hidden spot. He wanted to help, but his fear was too big.
One day, a very old and wise tree, named Willowbend, saw Pipkin. Willowbend had lived for many, many years. She had seen many winds come and go.
“Little Pipkin,” she said with a soft rustle of her leaves, “why do you always hide?”
Pipkin peeped out. “I am afraid, Willowbend,” he whispered. “The world is too big. I am too small.”
Willowbend smiled a tree’s slow smile. “Even the smallest seed can grow into a mighty tree. Even the smallest droplet helps fill the river. You are small, Pipkin, but you have a light inside you. Do not let fear put it out.” Pipkin thought about her words.
Soon, a terrible wind came. Its name was Bluster. Bluster was not like the gentle winds. It was cold and strong. It pushed all the flowers down. It made the green grass turn gray. The happy Buzzers could not fly. The gentle Grubblers shivered. Bluster laughed a cold laugh and made the whole meadow dark. Pipkin felt very sad. He saw his friends suffer. He saw the beautiful flowers close their petals in fear.
He remembered Willowbend’s words. “You have a light inside you.” Pipkin felt a warm feeling grow in his tiny heart. It was not fear. It was courage. He took a deep breath. He ran out from under his mushroom. He ran towards the strong, cold wind.
“Stop, Bluster!” Pipkin cried with his small voice. “Leave our meadow alone!”
Bluster stopped its cold laugh. It looked down at the tiny sprite. “Who are you, little thing?” Bluster roared. “Go hide, or I will blow you away!”
“I will not hide!” Pipkin said, standing very, very tall. “You make our meadow sad. You make our friends cold. You cannot win!”
Bluster was surprised. Never before had such a tiny creature spoken to it so bravely. Bluster tried to blow Pipkin away, but Pipkin stood firm. His light, the one Willowbend spoke of, shone brightly around him. Bluster felt a strange warmth, a warmth it did not like. The big, cold wind growled one last time, then it turned and flew away, far into the distance.
The sun came out. The flowers lifted their heads. The Buzzers flew again. The Grubblers ate their sweet berries. Everyone cheered for Pipkin. Pipkin was still small, but he was not afraid anymore. He helped his friends. He played in the wind, for it was gentle now. He knew that even the smallest heart can hold the greatest courage.
The End