Noah and the Thunder Talk

Noah had one thing no other boy had. He had a moth named Pip who lived in a matchbox by his bed, and Pip glowed like a tiny yellow lamp.

Noah loved Pip more than anything. Tonight, in the middle of the night, a thunderstorm came.

Boom! The thunder rolled over the roof. Rain tapped at the window, tap-tap-tap. Lightning flickered, and the whole bedroom turned white for a blink.

"I'm here, Pip," said Noah. "Don't worry."

But Pip tucked his wings in tight and glowed very, very dim. Noah wanted Pip to glow bright again. That was all he wanted.

First, Noah sang a song. Boom! The thunder sang louder. Pip stayed dim.

Next, Noah tucked a sock around the matchbox, like a blanket. Boom! Pip shook the sock right off.

"Hmm," said Noah. He sat very still in the dark and listened.

Boom. Then nothing. Then, far away, a soft rumble, like a big cat purring in the next room. Boom. Then nothing. Rumble.

"Pip, look," Noah whispered. "The thunder talks, then it waits. Let's wait with it."

Noah opened the matchbox a little. "Boom," he said, in his deepest voice. Then he waited.

The sky said, "Boom."

"Rumble," said Noah, as low as a bear.

The sky said, "Rumble." It was almost like talking.

Then Noah made a huge, wobbly "Boooooom!" and his voice cracked in the middle, and out came a squeak.

Squeak! Noah clapped his hand over his mouth.

Pip's wing twitched. Pip glowed a little brighter. Noah did it again on purpose. "Boom... squeak!"

The sky rumbled, and Pip fluttered up out of the matchbox. His light was as warm as a candle now.

Boom, said the sky. Squeak, said Noah. Pip circled his head once and landed on his pillow.

Outside, the thunder grew sleepy and far away, and the rain slowed to a soft tap-tap. Pip glowed his gentlest yellow, folded his wings, and closed his eyes.