Tale#18: Bedtime Tales: Episode6:The Boy Who Wanted to Touch the Sky| Saturday
Time is a seed—use it wisely, or the tree never grows.
The living room was quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.
Aymen sat on the carpet, flipping through the Quran, her lips moving gently with the words. The golden edges of the pages shimmered under the soft lamp light. The room smelled of fresh cinnamon cookies cooling in the kitchen. Outside, the sun was slipping behind the horizon, leaving behind trails of pink and orange in the sky.
Sara sat on the couch, legs tucked under her, scrolling through her drawing app on the tablet. Zayn was nearby, building a spaceship out of magnetic tiles.
“Sara,” Aymen said softly, “it’s revision day today, remember? Surah Al-Bayyina?”
Sara didn’t look up.
“I’ll do it after I finish this drawing.”
Aymen gave her a patient smile. “Alright, but just don’t forget. I’ll remind you in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes turned into twenty. Then thirty.
When Aymen looked again, the tablet was now playing a doodle animation video, and the drawing was forgotten.
“Sara,” she said gently, “this is the third time this week.”
Sara sighed and looked away.
“I will do it. I just wasn’t feeling it today.”
Zayn piped up without looking up from his spaceship:
“That’s what you said yesterday too.”
Sara frowned. “You don’t get it. I just… don’t want to do it when I’m tired or not in the mood. I’ll revise it tomorrow. I promise.”
Aymen sat beside her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Can I tell you a story?”
Sara rolled her eyes, then grinned.
“Let me guess… another bedtime tale?”
“Yes,” Aymen smiled. “But this one’s about a boy who wanted to climb the stars.”
The Boy Who Wanted to Touch the Sky
“Once upon a time,” Aymen began, “in a small town between two snowy mountains, lived a boy named Idris. He was a dreamer. Not just an ordinary one. He wanted to touch the stars. Not with a telescope, not in a spaceship—he wanted to climb to them.”
Sara raised an eyebrow.
“That’s… ambitious.”
“Very,” Aymen chuckled. “But Idris believed that if he could grow the tallest tree in the world, he could reach the stars himself. So he went to an old gardener in the village who was known to have seeds from all over the world. He asked for a seed that would grow into the tallest, strongest tree.”
“The gardener smiled and gave him a small golden-brown seed. ‘This one,’ he said, ‘but it needs daily care. Water, sunlight, and time.’”
Idris ran home, dug a little hole behind his house, and planted it. Every morning, he rushed outside, poured a cup of water into the soil, whispered to the earth, and waited.
A week later, a small green sprout peeked through the dirt. Idris was thrilled.
But then, something happened.
One morning, it rained. Idris thought, “No need to water it today.”
The next morning, he was sleepy. “I’ll do it after school.”
But after school, he forgot.
Some days, he remembered. Other days, he didn’t.
Weeks passed.
The sprout barely grew. Its leaves looked tired. Its stem bent.
One day, Idris came out and saw that the tree had stopped growing. Completely.
“Why won’t you grow?” he asked the little tree, frustrated. “I gave you the best start. I imagined climbing you to the stars. Why aren’t you doing your part?”
But the tree, silent and still, simply stayed small.
Back in the living room, Sara looked up, a little frown on her face.
“That’s kind of sad.”
Aymen nodded.
“Idris went back to the gardener, confused and upset. ‘Your seed is broken,’ he said.
‘No, child,’ the gardener replied gently. ‘The seed was strong. But dreams don’t grow in empty promises. You thought a big dream didn’t need small, daily steps. But time is like water. If you don’t use it, it slips away… and so does the dream.’”
Zayn, now lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling, asked,
“Did he get another chance?”
Aymen smiled.
“Yes. The gardener gave him another seed. And this time, Idris woke up early, every day. He watered the soil, cleared the weeds, and whispered a prayer. The tree grew. Slowly. Day by day. Inch by inch.
It didn’t reach the stars overnight. But by the time Idris was a young man, it was the tallest tree in the valley. It held a swing for his younger siblings. It gave shade to travelers. And at night, Idris would sit under it and watch the stars, closer than he had ever been.”
Sara was quiet now.
She glanced at her Quran, lying on the shelf.
“So… my revision is like the tree?” she asked.
“Exactly,” Aymen nodded. “You want to reach the stars—whether that’s memorizing a surah, being better at recitation, or even building good habits. But skipping it today because you're tired, and tomorrow because you're bored, and the next day because something fun came up? That’s like forgetting to water your dream.”
Zayn added with a mischievous grin,
“And then your tree turns into broccoli.”
They all laughed.
Sara hopped off the couch, walked over to the Quran, and brought it back.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll start with one verse. Just one. And then tomorrow I’ll water it again.”
Aymen kissed her forehead.
“That’s all it takes. One small deed. One drop of water. One verse at a time. And one day, you’ll climb your own tree and find yourself touching the sky.”
That night, in the stillness of her room, Sara placed a sticker on her planner next to “Quran Revision.” A little golden star.
A tiny sign.
That her tree had been watered.
And her stars were waiting.