The Glass Hot-Air Balloon | A Short Story Written By Marco Ciappelli (English Version) | Stories Sotto Le Stelle Podcast | Short Stories For Children And The Young At Heart

What a magnificent full moon!

Late April.

The San Fernando Valley shimmered gently.
Tiny lights flickered softly,
like electric fireflies in summer dreams.

In a small garden,
beneath an old wise lemon tree,
something special was about to happen.
Because lemon trees, you know,
hide delicate secrets;
magical whispers, patiently guarded
among their fruits, flowers and branches.

Up high, safe and sound,
Mr and Mrs Hummingbird waited.
Little hearts vibrating with hope.
They watched carefully,
as small eggs cracked, whispered and hatched
under California’s warm sky.

Jack and Sally arrived.
At first with their eyes closed,
resting peacefully in the warmth of their mother.

Days passed gently.
Soon their eyes opened and
feathers grew, stretching softly.
From their nest they gazed with wonder
at the lively world of the garden:
birds singing, flowers murmuring,
bees buzzing tirelessly
and squirrels chasing each other merrily,
leaping from tree to tree
as if they’d had a little too much coffee;
far too much, in fact!

“Calm down a bit,” exclaimed Sally bravely from the nest.
“We’re still learning how to be hummingbirds!”
The garden fell silent for a moment,
smiled quietly,
and kindly replied,
“Welcome, Jack! Welcome, Sally! Welcome to the Valley!”

Days turned into weeks. Sally stretched her wings,
tiny feathers growing stronger by the hour,
training and preparing
to reach the sky of her dreams.

At last, the big day came.
“Watch me, Jack!” sang Sally joyfully,
and with a brave flutter, she left the nest.
She flew—slowly at first, then faster;
twirling, laughing, gliding above the flowers and below the branches,
while the whole garden cheered and clapped.

Jack watched from the nest, silent.
His left wing, carefully folded, was still unsure.
The garden held its breath, happy for Sally,
but gently concerned for Jack.

“Your moment will come too, dear,” 
whispered Mrs Hummingbird softly,
kissing Jack on the forehead. 
“Believe in it.”

That very night, as stars filled the sky,
Jack stared at the little Glass Hot-Air Balloon that,
hanging from a branch of the lemon tree,
swayed gently in the evening breeze.
An ornament, a sunset trapped,
gently lit from within by dancing flames that, perhaps, were fake,
but only if you didn’t believe in magic.

Jack believed.

He balanced carefully, hopping softly,
bravely, from branch to branch,
towards the glowing balloon that kept on dancing in the wind
as if it were flying through the sky.

Without hesitation, he jumped into the tiny basket.
Suddenly, sparks shimmered. Whirls danced.
Magic awakened beneath his feathers,
as the Glass Hot-Air Balloon rose,
lifting slowly into the evening air.

“Jack!” exclaimed Sally, eyes full of wonder.
She flew right up next to him, laughing.
Together they soared, joyfully twirling,
while the garden clapped louder than ever.
Even Mr and Mrs Hummingbird blinked in astonishment,
smiling proudly at their brave children.

“You know,” said an old owl,
smiling wisely from a nearby branch,
“if you follow the sunset, through the canyon,
you’ll reach the Great Blue Ocean.”

Jack’s heart fluttered with courage.
“Come with me, Sally!” he said, eyes shining.
And Sally didn’t hesitate.
She joined Jack on the hot-air balloon
and together they flew higher and farther,
beyond the valley, over winding canyons,
towards golden rays blending with endless blue.

The ocean appeared—glittering, infinite;
the waves whispering gentle secrets
lit softly by what was left of the sunset.

Below, the Malibu pier glowed warm and welcoming,
caressed by the Pacific Ocean and the breeze.
The whole bay greeted the brave adventurers.

Jack breathed deeply, heart full.
He had found his way to fly, to soar in the sky;
not by trying to be like the others,
but by embracing who he truly was.

Because it’s not our limits that define us,
but our courage to dream,
our will to believe,
and the magic we carry within.

Because nothing,
absolutely nothing,
can stop those who dare to dream.

- Written by Marco Ciappelli

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