Mia and the Dragon Who Couldn't Sleep
High on the hill behind Mia's house lived a very small dragon with a very big problem: every time he started to fall asleep, a tiny snore of fire escaped his nose and woke him right up again. One evening, Mia heard him sighing all the way down in the garden. It sounded like a kettle that had given up. "Hello up there," called Mia. "Why aren't you asleep?" The little dragon peeked over a bush, embarrassed. Two thin trails of smoke curled from his nostrils. "Dragons aren't supposed to be bad at sleeping," he mumbled. "But my fire keeps waking me. I've tried counting sheep. I accidentally toasted three of them. They were made of clouds, luckily." Mia thought hard, the way you do when a friend really needs you. "When I can't sleep," Mia said, "I get a glass of warm milk. Maybe you need the dragon version." So they tiptoed together to the pond, where the water lilies folded up for the night, and the little dragon drank one careful sip of moon-cooled water. His smoke turned from grey to silvery-blue. "Now the blanket part," said Mia, and tucked the dragon in under a pile of soft moss, right up to his chin. "And now the story part. It goes like this: Once there was a dragon who was very brave, because being brave means trying anyway — even trying to sleep." The dragon's eyes grew heavy. "What happens next?" he whispered. "Next," said Mia softly, "he found out that his fire wasn't a problem at all. At night it turned into something new." And it truly did: as the little dragon finally drifted off, his snores came out not as flames, but as warm golden sparks that floated up and hung in the sky like extra stars. Mia walked home under their light, yawning a happy yawn. Some of those sparks are probably still up there tonight, keeping watch. Sleep well, Mia. The little dragon is already dreaming — and now it's your turn.