Макс Лютер
Timmy the Little Elephant and His Magical Sleep. Bedtime story
Chapter 1: A Sleepless Night
Little Timmy the elephant lay in his cozy bed, tucked under a soft blanket of fluffy clouds. Night had long since fallen on the savanna, lulling all its inhabitants to sleep with magical sounds: the chirping of crickets, the rustling of leaves, and the quiet breathing of slumbering animals. Only Timmy couldn't close his eyes.
He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. He counted sheep jumping over a fence, but they somehow turned into fluffy clouds that floated away. He tried to imagine something very boring, like a snail crawling slowly or paint drying on a wall, but his imagination painted vivid pictures of fun games and adventures.
Timmy sighed. He was so tired, but sleep seemed to be playing hide-and-seek with him, hiding somewhere far, far away. The little elephant sat up in bed and looked out the window. The big round moon softly illuminated the savanna, turning it into a magical world of shadows and light. The stars twinkled like tiny lights, winking at Timmy from above.
"Maybe I need to drink some water?" Timmy thought, and, stepping carefully so as not to wake his parents, he went to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of cool water and took a few sips. But the water didn't help.
Timmy returned to his room and lay down in bed again. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but his thoughts continued to swirl in his head like a flock of disobedient butterflies. He thought about how much fun it was to play with his friends today, about how he would need to help his mom gather delicious fruits tomorrow, about how interesting it would be to learn to fly like the birds…
The little elephant opened his eyes and looked at the clock hanging on the wall. The hands showed that it was very late, but he still wasn't asleep. Timmy felt a lump in his throat. He felt sad and lonely. He wanted to sleep so badly, but sleep wouldn't come.
"What should I do?" the little elephant whispered, wiping away the tears that rolled down his cheeks. "I'm so tired, but I can't sleep. Maybe I should sing a lullaby?"
Timmy began to softly hum the song his mom always sang to him before bed. But his voice trembled, and the words got mixed up. He stopped singing and lay down again, covering his head with the blanket.
"Maybe I should count to a hundred?" Timmy thought. "They say it helps."
He started counting but got lost at forty-seven and started over. Then he got lost at sixty-two and started over again. Timmy realized it was useless.
