Cloud Rider

For Camilla,
who is never anything but.
Except when she’s a tiger or a dragon.

CHAPTER ONE: WHERE THE CUPS
WENT.

         Ona lived on the top of a small hill in
Utah. She was only three years old, though
her mother would often say that Ona wasn’t
‘only’ anything. She was always ‘very much
so’.
         To Ona, the hill she lived on was very
tall, indeed. It was a long way down, even by
car. And a longer way up.
         On very cloudy days, the clouds would
agree -– since they’d come and visit, settling
themselves at the bottom of the steps at
Ona’s front door.
         It was a beautiful sight, looking out the
front window and seeing the white and
gray-edged quilt (with brown and green
patches where the ground showed through)
that expanded from the front door to the
horizon. Ona’s Mom and Dad would sit on the
stoop and stare out into the distance for what
seemed, to Ona, to be hours and hours and
hours.
         Nothing seemed more boring to Ona.
          "Mom?" Ona would ask. "Can we play
a game?"
          "Not right now," Mom would reply,
distracted by the expanse of clouds. "Maybe in
a little while?"
          "Dad?" asked Ona. "Can you read me
a story?"
          "Another one?" Dad would reply. "We
just finished three of them." This was often
true. Three was the correct number of stories
to Ona. "I’ll read more later," he would finish,
also distracted by the clouds.
         So Ona would grab a large spill-proof
cup of juice (one of the many her Mom would
leave ready in the fridge), and oftentimes a
granola bar. Then she would walk out the
back door, find a small, but friendly, cloud, and
go for a ride.

         The most curious thing to Ona wasn’t
that she could ride clouds, but that her Mom
and Dad would rather stare at the clouds
instead of ride them.
         Like most three year olds, Ona had
two assumptions: the first was that she was
the most wonderful child in the world and the
second was that if she could do something
then everyone else could. If you told Ona that
these two assumptions were contradictory
she would simply say, "Now, you’re being
silly!"
         At first Ona couldn’t control where the
cloud went and was often afraid it wouldn’t
take her back home. But it always did.
         Once she could drive the clouds, she
would often float them over to a nearby hill and
reach down and pick flowers or just look
around while she ate her granola bar. She
wasn’t able to do much until she ate her
granola bar because she needed both hands.
If she put the granola bar down onto the cloud
it would fall through. The lost granola bars
were not so bad since she could go home
and get another one, but the lost cups often
caused her Mom to scold her.
         "I don’t know where you could possibly
misplace so many cups," her Mom would say.
And then there’d be no cups for a few days
and that made Ona sad. So she was very
careful with cups.

CHAPTER TWO: WHERE THE FROGS
WENT.

         One day Ona brought two small frogs
with her on the cloud. But when she put them
down, they, too, disappeared. She searched
for them in the folds of the cloud – which was
like trying to find the rubber ducky in a bath tub
with too many bubbles – but after awhile she
forgot what she was looking for and started
steering the cloud towards a hill covered with
very many bright and enticing blue flowers.
         On the news that night was a story of a
woman who swore that it rained frogs on her
lawn party. She held up two frogs as proof.
         Ona smiled. "I’m glad they’re okay",
she said.
         Her Mom hugged her. "You’re a very
compassionate little girl," her Mom told her.
Ona didn’t know what ‘compassionate’ meant,
but she enjoyed the hug. Then she frowned at
her Mom, declaring with a pout, "I’m a big little
girl!"
         Her Mom hugged her again. "You
certainly are," she agreed.
         Ona was content.

         One day at preschool the class was
learning about clouds. Miss Green, the
teacher, told the class that clouds were water
vapor, which she explained is rain before it
falls to the ground.
         Ona nodded. That explained why her
butt was always a little wet after she returned,
but not so wet that her Mom thought she had
peed her pants.
         One of the other children in the class
asked if you could walk on clouds.
         The teacher said, "No."
         Ona said, "Yes". Everyone in the class
looked at Ona. She continued, "But once they
start moving you need to sit down or you might
fall off."
         Miss Green laughed, but none of the
children thought Ona was joking.
         "Really?" asked another child.
         "Really," said Ona.
          "Not really," said the teacher. The
teacher smiled at Ona, but Ona returned the
smile with a pout. Miss Green added, sweetly,
"But it would be fun if it were true."
         "It is fun," said Ona to herself.
         Later, during ‘open works’, Michael B.
came over to Ona and asked, "Have you
ridden on clouds?"
         "Yes", said Ona.
         "Next time, can I come?" asked
Michael B.
         "Yes", said Ona. And then, trying to
sound like a grown-up, she added, "That
would be nice."

         The next cloudy day, Ona told her
Mom, "I must invite Michael B. over today."
         "Oh, you must, must you?" teased her
Mom with a twinkle in her eye.
         "I promised", declared Ona earnestly.
         "Then you must", agreed her Mom and
they called Michael B.’s Mom who drove
Michael B. over after lunch.
         The two Moms sat on the stoop
drinking grown-up drinks and admiring the
clouds.
         Ona and Michael B. went out the back
door to ride the clouds.

CHAPTER THREE: THE ADVENTURE
BEGINS.

         Michael B. looked at the carpet of
clouds that stretched in front of him like cotton
balls tightly packed on a green carpet. He
looked up and saw that there was another
layer of clouds, a grayer level, above the carpet
layer. He looked at Ona, unsure what he was
supposed to do.
         "First," said Ona using her ‘explaining’
voice, "we need to find a friendly cloud to make
sure we get back."
         Michael B. was nervous. "Do they go
up very far?"
         "Nope", said Ona, "the clouds always
go straight." Then she pointed at a gap in the
clouds to the forest far below. "But the ground
goes down."
         This only made Michael B. more
nervous.
         "It’s easy," said Ona. "Just step onto
the cloud", and she did this as she spoke.
"Then sit down." She did. "Then lean forward."
Ona leaned forward slightly and the cloud
moved away from the side of the hill. It
stopped just a few feet away. Ona yelled,
overly loud for the short distance she was
away, "Lean back to stop and go back!" Her
cloud came back to the hill, right in front of
Michael B.
         Michael B. said quickly, "I’ll ride with
you." He touched the side of Ona’s cloud and
was surprised to find that it felt like a pillow. A
slightly damp pillow like after you’ve been
crying on it. He slowly crawled up the edge
and held onto Ona tightly.
         Ona asked casually, "Do you want
some juice or a g’anola bar?"
         Michael B. just shook his head, too
afraid to talk. He managed two words: "go"
and "slow."
         Ona was nonchalant. "That’s all
clouds go," she said.
         "Lean forward," Ona commanded and
Michael B. leaned a very small bit forward.
The cloud moved away from the edge of the
hill. Michael B. looked back at the hill, half
wanting to go back and half pleased that he
was brave enough not to ask to go back.
         "We’re going to that hill," said Ona,
pointing to one of the many hills that poked
through the cloud cover. Michael B. noticed a
large patch of empty sky between them and
the other hill. He was uncertain this was a
very good idea.
         Most of the clouds were moving the
same direction as they were, but their cloud
was going slightly faster. It moved directly
through some, bumped others aside and
went around still others, depending on if Ona
leaned to one side or not.
         "See, it’s easy," said Ona.
         Michael B. agreed, nodding, but he did
not loosen his grip on Ona.
         Halfway across, their cloud moved out
from the crowd of clouds and into the open
space. Michael B. tried not to look down but
failed.
         "It’s very f-f-far down," he stammered.
"What if we f-fall?"
         "Clouds don’t fall," explained Ona. It
wasn’t quite what Michael B. meant, but he
was too afraid to ask again.
         To Michael B.’s relief, they made it to
the other hill and he quickly jumped off.
         "Get back on, silly," said Ona. "If you
want to pick flowers, just reach down and grab
them." She demonstrated by pulling up a big,
yellow dandelion.
         Ona sang, "Momma had a baby but its
head popped off!" She tried to snap off the
dandelion top with one hand but couldn’t
manage it, so she ripped it off with the other
hand and threw it to the ground. She noticed
her fingers were now yellow. She tried to rub
off the yellow, but got it all over her palm and
her other hand.
         "Look!" she said excitedly, "I’m yellow!"
She put up her hands, palm forward, to show
them to Michael B., but Michael B. was gone!
Ona was mad. He wasn’t supposed to play
on the hill.
         "Michael B.!" she yelled. "Michael B.!"
He was nowhere to be seen. Finally, she saw
him sitting in the tall grass, a little ways down
the hill. Ona was afraid to step off the cloud to
go get him since there didn’t seem to be any
other friendly clouds next to this hill. There
were many other clouds, but they were all dark
and angry looking. She looked up and saw
that the top layer of clouds had moved closer
and in some places was touching the lower
level, like when you pull Silly Putty apart.
         "Michael B.! You better hurry!" she
yelled. "It’s going to storm!"

CHAPTER FOUR: LIGHTNING
STRIKES.

         But Michael B. refused to get on the
cloud. He turned away from Ona, folded his
arms against his chest and shook his head.
         The first drops of rain started to fall.
         "Hurry," yelled Ona again, uncertain of
what she should do. She couldn’t get off this
cloud, all the others looked worse than angry;
they looked mean. She steered the cloud in
front of Michael B. Since she couldn’t get the
cloud to go any lower, she was hovering right
above his head. Even from that height, Ona
could tell that Michael B. was crying. "Don’t
cry," said Ona softly. "It’ll be okay. We just-"
         "I’m not crying!" snapped Michael B.
He didn’t want to cry in front of a little girl. He
was supposed to be the brave one. "It’s the
rain," he said. "It dripped down my eyes is all."
He drew lines from his eyes to his cheeks
with his fingers, to demonstrate.
         Ona wanted to argue, but she didn’t
think there was time. Her Mom and Dad
would be very mad if she were out in the rain.
She was trying to think of a way to get Michael
B. back on the cloud when-
         "Craa-ack!" Both children looked in
the direction of the noise and caught the last
glow from the lightning. It came down right
between the hill they were on and the hill
where Ona’s house sat, barely visible now
though the taffy-strings that pulled the two
layers of clouds together.
         The rain, as if in response to the
lightning, started coming down harder and
colder.
         "This is bad!" said Ona. Then she
used her ‘serious’ voice. "Michael B. We have
to go. Right. Now."
         Michael B. got on his feet. He looked
up at Ona. He looked across to Ona’s house,
which seemed an impossible journey through
the pillars of black and gray clouds and
sheets of rain. At first he started to turn away
and cross his arms again, but then he
stopped. He turned back and said, boldly, "Let
me just wipe the tea-, the rain from my face
and then we can go." But his resolve cracked
a little as he started walking the few steps up
the hill to be on level with Ona’s cloud. "Will
we be okay?" he asked.
         Ona was not so sure. She had ridden
clouds in the rain a few times, but it was a
light rain and she had never seen the clouds
look so angry before. And the lightning was
very scary. She looked down at her cloud. It
was a friendly cloud and she knew that a
friendly cloud wouldn’t let them get hurt. "Yes,"
she said, "we’ll be okay." And she believed it.
         Michael B. climbed up behind Ona,
grabbing on to her tightly and closing his eyes.
"Hurry," he said softly. "I’m not afraid to go
really fast."
         Even scared, Ona could not stop from
explaining once again, "Clouds don’t go fast."
         She looked left and right and saw that
the storm was all around them. She looked
straight forward and could just barely see her
house. Ona started driving the cloud directly
towards it.
         "Craa-ack!" This time they saw the
lightning fork its way down from the top layer of
clouds, streak through the now thin empty
area between the two layers, and shoot
through the bottom layer. Where it went, Ona
did not know. She hoped the tea party lady
had brought the frogs inside, where they’d be
safe.
         Ona was scared and she started to
cry. Michael B. felt her body shake as she
sobbed. It was his turn to be strong.
         "Let’s go up!" he yelled over the roar of
the storm.
         Ona yelled back, now angry with
Michael B. "Clouds don’t go up!"
         Michael B. pointed to their left. In order
to point, he had to remove one of the arms that
clutched to Ona. It took some courage, but he
did it.
         Ona looked in the direction that
Michael B.’s finger was pointing and saw that
he was right. There was a line of small
clouds, all of which looked friendly, that was
slowly moving upwards, as if they had found a
cloud escalator. Ona steered her cloud
towards them. If Ona and Michael B. were
good at anything, it was getting in a line. As
soon as they got behind the other clouds and
saw that another cloud got in line behind
them, they felt comforted.
         Ona said, "This must be where the
friendly clouds go when there is a storm." No
sooner had she said this, than their cloud
started moving upwards. The trip was rapid,
but not too fast and not at all bumpy.
         "Clouds do go up," muttered.
Michael B. softly. He was happy to be right.
         They looked up and saw a hole in the
now black and crackling upper layer of clouds.
They watched as the small, friendly clouds in
front of them popped through the hole. Soon it
was their turn and – pop! – they hopped
through.
         "Yay!" they both yelled as they realized
they were above the storm and felt the
warming rays of the sun on their cold, wet
clothes and skin. Ona tuned around and
hugged Michael B.

CHAPTER FIVE: LIGHTNING STRIKES
AGAIN.

         They floated with the other friendly
clouds just a few feet above the upper layer.
The upper layer -– dark gray, rumbling, and
with lightning running through it like fish
running through an overly stocked pond –
looked especially menacing from above. They
were glad they were above it.
         Ona said, "Sit down" to Michael B. who
did not realize he had stood up. He sat own
quickly and they both leaned forward to make
the cloud move as fast as it could. Off in the
distance they saw the very tip of a hill, which
they hoped was the correct one. Ona had
never seen it from above before.
         The very top of Ona’s hill was actually
a rock that was as tall as Ona but about as
wide as their kitchen table. Ona and her Dad
would climb to the top of the hill every Sunday.
She and their dog Fooey (named after the
horse in one of Ona’s favorite stories) would
play on the rock as her Dad sat with his back
against the rock, drinking his coffee and
reading the Sunday paper. Every now and
then Ona’s Dad would wake up and say, "I
wasn’t sleeping. I was just resting my eyes for
a bit." It always made Ona laugh.
         Ona knew she was at the right hill,
when she saw the rock. Only the very tip jutted
out past the clouds, but it was enough. Ona
stopped the cloud just above the rock.
Looking down, she saw that it was about five
feet below them.
         Michael B. was feeling brave, but he
knew danger when he saw it. "I am not going
to jump off onto that rock!" he declared. "We’ll
crack our skulls open like pumpkins." He
imagined the seeds spilling out of his broken
head, just as he always did when his mother
gave the same warning.
         Ona pushed at him gently, saying,
"Don’t be a silly. We’re going to jump onto the
clouds right next to the rock."
         Michael B. considered this. "Will they
hold us? Will it hurt? They look ‘lectric."
         Ona wasn’t sure. The clouds below
her, more like one huge cloud than many
clouds, did look ‘lectric. They also looked very,
very angry.
         Michael B. asked, "Why don’t we stay
here for a bit? It’s nice up here."
         Ona looked up at the bright sun. She
turned her now only slightly yellow palms
upwards and felt the sun’s warmth on them.
"It is nice up here," she agreed. "But we
must get down. Anyway, it’s time for you to go
home." Ona was tired from the adventure and
wanted to cuddle with her Mom, alone. She felt
bad about wanting Michael B. to go home, but
she did. Though it had only been ten minutes
since the first drops of rain fell, it felt to Ona as
if it had been hours and hours.
         "We are going to jump," said Ona.
There was a whitish, fluffy spot a little to the
right, so she drove the cloud over to it. Still, it
would be a very brave jump, even braver than
jumping off the edge of the swimming pool.
And her Dad was not there to catch her.
         All of a sudden, they heard a huge
rumble and the clouds below them began to
roll upwards and downwards, like waves on
an ocean. And then a bright blast of light and
the loudest "Cra-aa-aa-rack!" yet. As if scared,
their friendly cloud tipped on its side. Ona and
Michael B. fell off!

CHAPTER SIX: BACK ON THE HILL THE
HARD WAY.

         Down they went, right onto the white
puffy spot below them. Instead of holding
them up, the cloud pushed them side to side,
shaking them like Ona’s dog shakes a towel,
and then dropped them onto the now muddy
hill.
          "Ouch!" said Ona.
          "Good!" said Michael B. who was very
happy to be back on at least somewhat firm
ground.
         They expected it to be pouring rain, but
it was barely drizzling.
         Ona and Michael B. stood up, the tops
of their heads touching the very bottom of the
clouds. Ona ducked, not wanting her head to
touch the bad clouds. Michael B., suddenly
curious, poked his hands through the cloud
layer. This was very brave, indeed, since the
clouds seemed to be full of ‘lectricity.
         Water from the cloud poured down his
arm and soaked his shirt. "Yuck!" said
Michael B. "Miss Green was right about the
clouds," he said. Then, catching Ona’s angry
look, added, "Except she was wrong about
riding them."
         It was a long walk from the top of the
hill to Ona’s house. Maybe not long for adults,
but for two little wet and tired children, it was
far enough. It took them almost five whole
minutes and by the time they arrived they were
very happy to be home.
         As soon as they walked in the back
door, Ona yelled, "Mom! Michael B. needs to
go home now!" Instead of being insulted,
Michael B. nodded in agreement.
         The two Moms came running towards
the back door, each quickly grabbing their own
child up in her arms. "There you are, my
sweetie," both Mom’s said at once. And also
at once, they both exclaimed, "You’re soaked
through to the skin!"
         Ona’s Mom asked, "Where have you
been?"
         Michael B.’s Mom repeated the
question, "Yes, where have you been? I was–
we were worried sick!"
         Michael B. looked at Ona, wondering if
she was going to tell or if he should. But Ona
didn’t think this was so important. What was
important is that she was wet and cold.
         "I’m wet and cold," she told her Mom.
         "I’m wet and cold, too," Michael B. told
his Mom.
         The Moms started talking quickly
about which of Ona’s dry clothes Michael B.
could wear and where the hot chocolate was
and who should make it. Ona thought it was
odd that they called him ‘Michael’ and not
‘Michael B.’ She wondered how they knew
which Michael they were talking about, since
there were three Michael’s at her school and
another one at her sitter’s. But she didn’t have
time to ask, since she was quickly whisked
away from the back door and into her room to
be changed.
         Soon enough, Ona and Michael B.
were sitting in dry clothes, their heads
wrapped in towels, their hands holding mugs
of hot chocolate.
         They were told to wait until the ice
cube melted in their hot chocolates before
they could drink it, and asked to repeat that
fact aloud, so they both sat there watching
their ice cubes melt. Ona kept checking
Michael B’s ice cube to see if his was melting
faster, though she was unsure if this was a
good or bad thing. Michael B was staring into
his cup, lost in thought.
         Ona’s Mom broke the silence. "Kids?"
she said to get their attention. They looked up
to see her holding a large, clear bag of small,
puffy, white objects. "Do either of you want
some marshmallows?" she asked.
         "Oh no! No, thanks!" both children
quickly replied.

THE END.

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