Twinkle
By a quiet lake full of reeds and lily pads, Mother Duck sat on her nest. Crack! Crack! One by one, five fluffy yellow ducklings tumbled out. But the sixth egg was large and speckled, and it took its time.
At last it hatched, and out came a big, grey, rather scruffy chick. "Oh my," said Mother Duck. "You don't look like the others. But you swim beautifully, little Grey."
The farmyard animals were not so kind. "What a funny-looking duck!" honked the geese. The hens clucked and the turkey puffed up. Grey hung his head and hid among the reeds.
One chilly morning, Grey swam away to find somewhere he belonged. He met frogs who laughed at him and wild ducks who chased him. As autumn leaves fell, he saw tall white birds flying south and wished he could go with them.
Winter was long and cold. Grey sheltered in the reeds while snow fell softly on the lake. An old woman who fed the birds sometimes left him bread, and he dreamed of spring.
When the ice melted and the willows turned green, Grey felt his wings grow strong. He flew over the meadows and landed on a shining lake where three white swans were gliding.
He bowed his head, sure they would chase him away. But in the still water he saw his reflection: a long, graceful neck and snowy white feathers. He wasn't a duck at all. He was a swan.
"Welcome, brother," said the swans, and they swam around him in a circle. Grey's heart felt warm and light. He had never needed to change. He had only needed time to grow into himself.
