Story 1 of 3 · about 2 minutes to read aloud
Skye the Little Plane's Last Flight

Skye was a little passenger plane with white wings and a blue stripe along her side. All day she had flown back and forth between the islands, carrying people to visit their families. Now the sun was setting, and it was time for her last flight home.
She rose gently into the evening sky. Below, the sea turned gold and then pink. The clouds were soft and tinted orange, and Skye flew between them, smooth and steady, humming her engine song.
Inside, the passengers were sleepy. A baby had fallen asleep on her father's shoulder. An old man was looking out of the window, watching the islands glow. A girl was drawing a picture of the clouds.
Then Skye saw the little airport, with its runway lit up by two rows of lights, like a path made of stars. She lowered her wheels, slowed down and touched down so softly that the baby didn't even wake up.
When all the passengers had gone home, a man in a yellow jacket guided Skye into her hangar. He turned off her lights and patted her wing. "Good flying today, Skye," he said. The hangar doors slid closed, and the little plane rested in the quiet, dreaming of clouds.



