Fly Away on the Sleep Hot Air Balloon: A Story for Kids
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Thank you.

This is Ria. Welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People. I'm in a bit of a pickle. I can't actually find the story I was supposed to tell you today. This is the first time I've ever been forced into this position. But, well, okay, challenge accepted. I'll have to tell this story from memory. It's called, hmm, Go.

It's called Sail Away. No, no. Lift Off. No, I've done that already. Fly Away on the Sleep Hot Air Balloon. That's it. Take it away, Lily Mae. Remember, there are no pictures. You have to imagine them in your mind. You can imagine them however you want. Okay, here we go. ♪

It was a Friday afternoon, and Lambden, the sheep, was in math class, completely unable to focus. It should be against the law to administer math tests after lunch on a Friday, he thought, nodding. But he could not see a way to rapidly outlaw the test he was in the middle of taking. Focus, he told himself.

If Zelda has eleven skeins of merino wool yarn...

and Geraldo has 323 skeins of merino wool yarn. Why would a sheep have 323 skeins of yarn? Lambden scratched his torso. That he was expected to take a math test on Friday afternoon was galling enough, but Lambden had also been plagued by itchiness all day.

That morning, he had donned scratchy pajamas. He hadn't known they were scratchy. He'd recently received them as a gift from his Aunt Ida. They had dancing carrots printed all over them, and he wore them to school for what he believed was Wacky Pajama Day. When he'd arrived, he was met with blank stares from his classmates. "Lambden, what are you wearing?"

Are those pajamas? Because in fact, it was Wild Woll Day.

"'I can't wait for spirit week to be over,' Lambden muttered, his attention turning to the window. That was another source of distraction. For the last ten minutes, a bright blue butterfly had been fluttering around, searching for an exit. "'You may be trapped, but at least you don't have to take a math test.' Lambden forced his attention back to his paper."

Despite the sluggishness of his brain and the itch that seemed to migrate to a new region of his wool every few minutes, and the hapless butterfly scrabbling at the window, Lambden eventually scrawled the answer to his final test question. Or so he thought.

When he turned the test face down on his desk, he discovered another question on the back. Huh? He whispered it to himself, haltingly, as it contained a number of spelling errors. If you boarded a relaxing hoot air balloon that had three fantastic performances...

How many minutes would it take for you to fell asleep? It was the only item that was written in pen rather than typed. It was also the only question on the test that did not relate to wool. How could I possibly figure out how long it would take for me to...

Wait a second. Lambden knew the sheep who sat closest to him, Yarnedon, usually finished tests at the same time he did. If Lambden was on the final question, Yarnedon would be, too. I'll just take a quick glance. As soon as Lambden's eyes shifted to his neighbor's desk, he heard, Students.

As a reminder, if I catch you looking at another sheep's paper, your math test will become my afternoon snack. The substitute, Professor Hoofbilt, fixed Lambden with an icy glare. Lambden gulped as Yarnedon got up to turn in his test.

It didn't matter. Lambden had seen that the back of Yarnedon's test packet was blank. So I am the only one with the hoot air balloon question. I mean, hot air balloon. And just like that, recognition came to him, like a bell ringing.

This question was added to my test by a sleep crew employee, Lambden surmised, thinking of the company that operated the beloved sleep train he rode every night. The one that took him on magical journeys, filled with captivating performances, before lulling him to a restful night's sleep.

Huh. Then an actual bell rang, signaling the end of not just math class, but the entire school week. Lambden turned in his test, leaving that last question blank. He practically ran home. He was so itchy, he couldn't wait to tear off his pajamas.

After a spectacular, itch-free afternoon playing outside in overalls, Lambden enjoyed a delicious dinner of lemon alfalfa fritters with his family. Soon enough, the sky grew dark out the windows, and Lambden clomped upstairs to bed.

At his dresser, he hesitated a moment before selecting his warmest pajamas. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth.

and fluffed his wool. He trotted to his bed and peeled back his pillow, just as I thought. Along with his usual sleep train button, there was another button beside it in the shape of a hot air balloon. Next to that, there was a wooden box with a sticky note attached.

Op-in-may? Lambdin read aloud. Is that someone's name? Hey, that handwriting looks awfully familiar. Open me, said a muffled voice. It says open me.

Or it's supposed to. Huh? Lambden opened the box. Out flew a butterfly with brilliant blue wings. The insect fluttered above the box and squinted at the handwriting. Okay, so spelling's not my forte. I have my strengths.

I'm very good at pollinating. What were you doing in that box? I couldn't sit underneath your pillow. My wings would be crushed beyond repair. Or at least crinkled, which is unacceptable to me. Hey, Lambden said, putting a hoof to his chin. You were in my classroom. Maybe, the butterfly said, smiling shyly. You added that question to my test.

Clever, right? I'm a member of the... Sleep crew, I know. And I'm here to offer you a ticket on our brand new, cutting-edge, completely safe, at least very low-risk, mind-blowing sleep air balloon. So the first thing to know is... I'm gonna have to interrupt you, Lamnin said with a frown. But you can't say no yet. Look, I... No, you look.

Lambden sighed. The butterfly zipped through the air. It's got incredible amenities, like the boarding process. So streamlined. And the seats. They're like, they're like cocoons. And the blankets. I'll board it, Lambden said. They're so fuzzy. What? The butterfly hovered in place. I'll go. You will? Yes.

I can't believe this. The team is going to be so jealous, especially Arnold. He told me you were difficult, but I knew. A sheep that poofy could not be difficult. I mean, look at you. You look like a marshmallow.

"'So I've heard,' Lambden said with an amused smile. "'Now, if you'll excuse me,' he reached out a hoof "'and pressed the sleep-hot air balloon button. "'Wait!' cried the butterfly. "'I did expect you to be slightly difficult. "'I have to know. Why did you say yes?' "'But it was too late. "'A great, swirling cloud streamed upwards.'

Lambden fell through the portal of his pillow and landed on top of a cow. Oof! He tumbled off and hit damp spring grass.

Ugh. Lambden staggered to his feet, unsurprised by his ungraceful landing. The sleep crew's pillow transport process was not exactly precise, but he was surprised to find that he had fallen directly into a crowd of creatures, waiting to board the enormous hot air balloon.

that waited, strapped to the ground nearby. He and the cow were surrounded by animals wearing pajamas. The cow was wearing pajamas. Huh. For a second, Lambden's heart fluttered with nerves until he saw that the pajamas these animals were wearing

were not in the least bit wacky. They were cozy, fleece-lined, extra warm, like the ones he'd selected, since he knew he'd be in the open night air. But not wacky. This mattered greatly to Lambden, and related to the answer he had not had time to provide in reply to the butterfly's question. I have to know, why did you say yes?

The truth was, it had not only been Spirit Week at school. It was also Spirit Week on the sleep train. Yes, hello? Hello?

Welcome to another spiritastic night on the sleep train. Remember, tomorrow will be You Are What You Eat night. Make sure to dress up as your favorite snack.

I expect to see some owls dressed as mice, and some mice dressed as pepper jack cheese. It got so confusing that Lambden had mixed up his spirit days and his spirit nights.

He'd worn his dancing carrot pajamas to school, but in fact it would be wacky pajama night, the final spirit night, on the sleep train that evening. Make sure to wear your most outlandish sleeper. But Lambden wouldn't be there. He'd be flying away on the sleep hot air balloon.

Though first he had to witness the ribbon-cutting ceremony over which the towering moose, the sleep train's illustrious tour guide, presided. Guzz, hello. Welcome to this unequivocally historic ribbon-cutting event to introduce the world to our magnificent, over-the-top, high-flying...

There were many words, and the passengers started slumping on each other's shoulders and fainting to the ground with exhaustion. After what felt like years, the moose held out a hoof to a uniformed poodle who provided a pair of gleaming scissors from between her teeth. By the time the ribbon was snipped, half the animals were curled on the ground, snoring. Snoring.

As promised, the boarding process was streamlined.

A line of sleepy animals shuffled past the towering moose, up a ramp to the basket of the balloon. Waiting his turn, Lambden finally took a good look at it, and his mouth dropped open. It was massive. Lambden had never seen a hot air balloon before, only in pictures. He

It was much bigger than he'd imagined. The balloon itself was made from a thick fabric and had a swirling pattern of gold, silver, bronze, and pearly white. Its surface seemed to shimmer in the light of the crescent moon and smattering of stars. He thought he could see tiny sparkles of light drifting from its material.

Below, an enormous basket sat on the... Good evening, Lambden, the moose said, her eyes agleam. Lambden had been so mesmerized, he hadn't noticed it was his turn to board. What a treat for you to join us. Step aboard, please.

Lambden stepped forward, grateful he did not have to get through another night of the sleep-train spirit week, and the thought brought a question to his mind. Impulsively, he turned to the moose before his hoof touched the ramp. It occurred to me, Lambden said...

causing the moose's eyes to widen above her practiced smile. Well, I was wondering. You do that, don't you, Lambden? Wonder...

It's just, how are you here when, well, aren't you also overseeing the sleep train tonight? How can you be in two places at once? The moose's tense expression relaxed. You must expand your imagination.

Remember, Lambdin, we at the Sleep Crew engage in a magical enterprise. Now hurry along. Our ascent begins in mere moments. She gave him a push, and with a light stumble, he clomped up the ramp.

The balloon's basket was surprisingly roomy. Dozens of passengers sat in a circle, hugging the perimeter, so that the center of the basket was open. Above, a flame danced, sending heat into the balloon.

Lambden found a seat between a squirrel flipping through a magazine about forest real estate and a goat wearing pajamas printed with electric guitar-playing giraffes. Must not have gotten the memo, Lambden thought with a chuckle. He eased into his seat with a deep, contented sigh.

Guess, hello? The towering moose stood in the center of the basket and clasped her hoofs together. Attention, attention please. We will now enjoy a brief yet legally essential exploration of the amenities that

of a protective and precautionary nature present on this extraordinary vessel, huh? Thelma, will you do the honors? A squat warthog wearing thick-framed glasses stepped forward, her eyes trained on a yellow legal pad. In the event of an emergency, do not panic. Remember,

Remain at ease. Heart rates should remain below 95 beats per minute for most creatures and below 650 beats per minute for rodents.

It's a safety demonstration. Why didn't they just say so? In the event of a water landing, do not fret. You may use your seat cushion as a flotation device. I don't do water, said a baffled tortoise. In the event of a mid-air catastrophe...

Ahem, the towering moose murmured, her eyes wild. Uh, excuse me, uh, in the event of a mid-air event, the towering moose nodded. Locate your personal parachute beneath your seat and put it on like so.

Thelma donned a parachute backpack and turned in a slow circle so that everyone could get a good look. "These parachute packs feature our own patented technology," the moose trilled. Lambdin was not paying attention. His focus had drifted to the clusters of stars in the ink-black sky.

Did someone say parachute? He muttered and turned to look at Thelma, but she was gone, replaced by Martleby the porcupine, his paws piled high with blankets.

Within minutes, Lambden was nestled beneath his weighted blanket. Fuzzy, weighted, or recycled patchwork denim. Soft music drifted from speakers placed around the balloon's basket. Delilah, a rabbit who frequented the sleep train and always brought her mist machine, sent out a fine spray of...

Well, Lambden could not quite place the scent. Huh, it's kind of woodsy, a bit citrusy. It smells like... It smells like adventure, said the squirrel seated beside him. Lambden chuckled, but he couldn't argue. It did smell like adventure. With a tinkling of bells, the hot air balloon lifted up from the ground.

It was glorious. Lambden could hardly believe how he'd lucked out.

Not only did he get to skip another cheesy spirit night on the sleep train, but he got this. He turned in his seat and sat up, craning his neck to glimpse over the side of the basket. Whoa. They'd barely gotten going, but he could already see for miles over gently rolling hills. Again.

He saw shimmering sparkles of light drifting off the surface of the balloon. He watched them float on the breeze, then wink out of sight. Guest, hello. We at the Sleep Crew hope you are enjoying this truly majestic and truly proprietary sleep experience. Nice.

Nestle beneath your blankets and turn your attention towards our first performers, the Chain Reactionists.

Lambden turned away from the beautiful hillside below and settled back into his seat, just as a crew of meerkats appeared. Six meerkats swiftly set in place a large rectangular platform that took up most of the central area of the balloon basket. A dozen more appeared.

From where? A hidden chamber? It was not clear. They carried pouches that they set down beside the platform. From the pouches, they extracted small, ivory-colored, rectangular... Dominoes? Are those dominoes?

They were, indeed. With exacting movements and working in total concert with one another, they created an elaborate, winding, circuitous domino design. They were traditional cream-colored tiles with black dots of different numbers. This pleased the passengers. I'm a purist. What can I say?

It took a few captivating minutes for them to place their remaining tiles, and a mood of disbelief fell over the crowd. There's no way they will all fall. I say...

What they're attempting strains credulity. This is false advertising. I want a 91% refund. A hush fell over the balloon's basket as the smallest meerkat climbed on the platform, reached out a claw, and ever so gently tapped a single domino. No one breathed. Lambden didn't breathe.

Even the towering moose, standing in a corner of the basket, seemed frozen in place with a hoof to her chest. There was a click as the first domino struck its neighbor, then another click.

More clicks as the dominoes fell one after another in rapid succession. The balloon riders were riveted as the falling dominoes reached their first big challenge, a sharp turn. They handled it with ease. Incredible! How do they do it? On went the toppling display of tiles, curving

careening around curves and whipping through straightaways, zipping over and under little bridges, until finally the last domino fell on its side. The passengers withered in their seats, and many closed their eyes from fatigue.

Guess. Hello. I hope you enjoyed that daring yet exhausting show of precision.

We'll meet up with our second set of performers in a minute. Meantime, we've got a truly clarifying upgrade to share with you. The moose clapped her hoofs together, and the floor of the basket, now clear of the dominoes and the platform, instantly transformed into a glistening, translucent surface. Wow!

Through the glass-like floor, passengers looked down to see the whole countryside far below. The scattered lights of lanterns and window lamps in houses dotted the land. "I can see my house!"

I think that's my house. That is not your house. Lambden said nothing at all. He simply marveled at the sight from way up in the balloon. Everything looked so small. There was a shift in the music, and he heard the shuffling of feet.

said the moose through the speakers. I regret having to uproot your attention from the earth below, but our next group of performers has arrived. Lambden reluctantly pulled himself from the wondrous sight through the glimmering glass floor and did a double take.

Surrounding the balloon were three round platforms held up by what appeared to be hummingbirds, Lambden murmured. There were hundreds of them, holding up each platform with little strings held tight in their beaks. Their wings flapped so furiously they were nearly invisible.

But that wasn't all. On each platform was a red panda, similar in size and appearance to a raccoon. Each tiny panda wore a striking wide-brimmed hat that prompted comments like, How do those hats stay on their heads? Are there straps we can't see? I say,

This strains credulity. But that wasn't all either. Each of the red pandas, standing on the platforms carried by hummingbirds, juggled three snaggletoothed lizards. How did they do it? Where were they trained? I've been looking for a lizard juggling certificate program for my nephew. Questions clouded Lambden's mind.

as the snaggletoothed lizards flipped through the air, whipped around by their tails. It was both adrenaline pumping and melatonin activating. He was torn between wanting to shoot out of his seat to get a better look and wanting to sink into it with a snore. He was saved from having to decide by the sound of whistling. That tooth-snaggled lizard...

Snaggletooth Lizard bit the balloon! Screams went up all over the basket. Passengers leapt from their seats to get a glimpse. There, hanging from the balloon's thick fabric by its most snaggly tooth...

was a single lizard who'd flown just a little too high. I am fairly alarmed by this. You know, my sister warned me not to board this balloon. She said, "What if a snaggletooth lizard bites a hole in it?" I dismissed her. Turns out she was right. Now I'm wondering, what else is she right about? Uh, guests? Hello.

said the towering moose, striding into the center of the increasingly chaotic balloon basket. Isn't this a gripping turn of events?

We at the Sleep Crew do aim to electrify and then subdue our guests. This is the part where we electrify you. Lambden peered up at the balloon, which was beginning to deflate. The snaggletoothed lizard had vanished, as had the rest of the performers, whisked away, no doubt, by the Sleep Crew's legal team. I

I would like to be subdued now. Thelma? Oh, Thelma! The moose shouted, her eyes tinged with desperation. The bespectacled warthog appeared. Do not panic, Thelma began as passengers panicked all over the place. We are experiencing a mid-air experience.

The balloon lurched in the sky. All winged passengers ejected themselves, flying to safety. The squirrel beside Lambden stood and stretched out her paws, revealing herself to be a flying squirrel with substantial flaps of fur. Lambden watched with interest as she leapt out of the basket and caught the wind. Woohoo!

But everyone else was at the mercy of Thelma. "Locate your personal parachute beneath your seat and put it on like so." As the balloon lost air, it spiraled in the sky. The passengers raced to buckle their parachutes to their backs.

Lambden latched his own, then swiftly yanked a parachute pack around the goat wearing the wacky pajamas, who was out cold, snoring as the sleep balloon careened towards the countryside.

"'There you go,' Lambden said, clicking it into place. He pulled the goat's ripcord and tipped him out of the basket. He watched as the goat's parachute opened, carrying the still-sleeping animal upwards in the dark."

Passengers leapt, one by one, out of the balloon. Lambden checked that his own pack was secure and climbed up onto the basket's rim. He noticed, then, that the parachutes were all different colors, and they seemed lit from within.

The sky was aglow with parachute canopies lilting on the breeze. Here goes nothing. Lambdin jumped and pulled his ripcord at the same time.

For a moment, he was weightless. Then he heard a rush of wind and felt a tremendous upward force. He glanced down at the withering hot air balloon. The final creature escaped, opening her parachute and drifting up on the wind. It was Thelma. She did not look panicked in the least.

It was strange. After the chaos of the balloon's mid-air event, and those wild, frenetic seconds in which the passengers emptied themselves from it, Lambdon had imagined he'd be wired. His nerves shot.

Instead, as he drifted downward beneath his glowing parachute canopy, he was completely at peace. Lambdin looked down at the land far below

dotted with lights from homes. The air around him was dotted with colorful parachutes. He noticed many of the animals had their eyes closed. Lambden closed his own eyes, and somehow, following a final performance of a very unexpected sort, his mind quieted.

Good morning, serious sleepers. I trust you had an unparalleled night's rest after that completely planned, exhilarating, yet serene parachute journey. Lambden opened an eye. Groggily, he sat up.

and shifted his pillow. "I come to you with truly earth-shattering breaking news regarding the sleep train. After a successful spirit week, the sleep crew has decided to extend the celebration. Tonight will be yet another spirit night. We're calling it 'Twins on a Train'. I can almost hear you cheering.

Make sure to dress as twins with a fellow passenger. Lambden sighed and shoved his pillow back in place. It will truly be a night to remember. He got up. It was a Saturday. He'd spend the whole day outside. And he would decide which sleep vehicle to board later. ♪

So, not bad for no script, eh? Huh? What's that? You're not gonna believe this, but it turns out I was sitting on my story the whole time.

Oh, I forgot many details. Like I completely forgot about the shrimp. Oh well. I can toss some shrimp into any old stir-fry. I mean, story. I hope you enjoyed it.

even without the shrimp. Little Stories for Tiny People is written, performed, and produced by me, Rhea Pector. My in-house tech director, Peter Kay, runs my website and puts my stories on the internet for all of you to enjoy.

Thank you to My Little Story's premium subscribers for making it possible for me to keep doing this. Thank you to Lily May for the super important reminder message at the beginning. And thank you to the many premium subscribers who supplied sound effects used in this story.

Thank you to Micah, Zemi, Maxwell, Marcy, Robbie, May, Olivia Joy, Agnes, Charlotte, Owen, Isabelle, Aby, Zelda, Imogen, Sienna, William, Sage, Felix, and Adelaide Lynn.

And thank you, as always, for listening in.