A long time ago, long before you or I had been born and the world was still new, spirits of all kinds roamed this vast space. There were spirits who took up residence in the water, whose job it was to take care of all the fish and control the tides. There were spirits who made their homes in the earth, and it was their responsibility to nurture the soil and grow crops. There were spirits in the air, in volcanoes, in every nook and cranny of the world. However, there was one place that was rather short on magical creatures.
High up above the earth was a lone spirit who lived in the clouds. She had a wisp of a body, fluffy wings, and her hair was made of raindrops and sunlight. She was by far the most beautiful of the spirits, but she was also the loneliest. For all of the other spirits had many of their respective kind and never longed for the company of others, while the spirit in the clouds was all alone. The earth spirits could not leave their beloved soil, and the water spirits were tied to the aquatic areas where they dwelled. The flame spirits could not leave their fiery homes for fear of being extinguished, and the single house in the sky was even too high up for even the air spirits to reach. Yes, the spirit of the skies was cursed to live a life alone.
One day, as she watched her fellow spirits far below her, all smiles and laughter, the lonely spirit began playing with a stray piece of cloud from one of her wings. She absentmindedly stretched it out, isolating its core parts and mixing them back together, over and over again. Suddenly she felt the cloud harden in her palm, and she looked down to see something she had never seen before. In her hand was a tiny, perfect snowflake.
The spirit had never seen an object so pure, so beautiful. For a moment she had completely forgotten her pain, and a new emotion spread through her. She was happy. After years of suffering, she had finally found joy.
The spirit in the sky began creating more snowflakes, each one more perfect and lovely than the last, and the more she made, the more at ease she felt and the lighter she became. The clouds that composed her body were no longer dark and grey, her wings became stronger, her dewy hair glowed golden in the sunlight and framed her beautiful face like a halo. Still the spirit kept on working, and her appearance and demeanor transformed more and more every day. No longer was she the sad, lonely spirit that all pitied.
As she made more and more, her home atop the clouds began to overflow with the delicate works of art, and soon they began to fall down to the world below. It was a subtle change, and it was days before any of the spirits noticed. They were fascinated with the beauty and quality of the snowflakes, as they had never seen anything quite like them. Even the flame spirits were willing to brave the cold just for a glimpse at the icy wonders. The spirits of the earth soon started a tradition of calling off all work on the days when enough flakes fell for the ground to be covered, instead opting to play in the snow dusted fields. They called the time when the most snow fell- when the spirit above was busiest- winter.
However, with time the spirit once again began to feel lonely, and it wasn't long before she was back to gazing out over the spirits tethered to the earth, longing for their lives so full of friendship. One day, as she sat on the edge of a cloud, making snowflakes while staring in on the lives of others, her hand faltered. It slipped in such a way that her arm made a movement she had never done before, and, to her surprise, the sunlight from above shifted and followed her every movement. The spirit had never known she was capable of such a thing, and she was once again filled with delight, the pain she had felt moments before slipping away.
The spirit practiced bending the light waves every day, and soon began adding new flourishes and steps to her movements, creating a dance that was more beautiful even than the snowflakes. She learned how to change the color of the sky at dusk, and was soon painting elaborate pictures on her newfound canvas. Each day her art became more and more magnificent, and her heart was filled with joy. She began to transform once more, her body becoming lighter, her wings more radiant, and the sunshine that fueled her talent seemed to seep into her body, giving off a soft, angelic glow.
The spirits below her soon took notice of her actions, watching the sunbeams dance across the sky. It was so dazzling that they often became distracted whenever the lone spirit was working. They marveled at the colors in the night sky, and it became a tradition among them to stay up very late, venturing to the biggest, highest hill in all the land just before dusk every day. There they would sit and wait to watch the spirit work her magic, captivated by the beautiful colors on the horizon. As her lights were always cast in the same direction, the spirits soon began to call them the Northern Lights.
However, the satisfaction from bending the light meant less and less to her, as she believed she had no one to share it with. Loneliness slowly crept back into her heart, and she began once again spending her free time looking upon the spirits she would never be able to call friends. With one hand she was bending light, with the other she was holding droplets of water, preparing to turn them into snowflakes. Her hand slipped. The light in her palm was turned to the droplets, hitting them at such an angle that a burst of colors was released, flying in all directions. Upon seeing the display, the spirit's face lit up as bright as the sun. She had never seen something so lovely, not even her pictures in the sky.
Every day the spirit would perch along the edge of a cloud, sprinkling water down and shining her light at it. Her timing grew better each day, and it was not long before she had mastered this skill as well, casting her line of colors across the earth like a blanket. The sight of all the colors in the mist around her brought her more happiness than she had ever felt. She was so happy, in fact, that her body began to change once again. The clouds she was made of were slowly being replaced by bright, colorful sunbeams. Her wings became lighter than air, and she grew long, flowing hair that was made of pure sunlight. She was as lovely as ever.
Her displays of color did not go unnoticed. Unbeknownst to her, the spirits of the world beneath her felt the same joy at seeing her colors. They took delight in the beauty of her work, and were constantly gazing at the sky in the hope she was there. They took entire days off just to watch her, laying on their backs in fields watching the sky all day. All the spirits loved the colors in the sky, and they began to call them rainbows.
It was not long, however, before the spirit's heart was filled with loneliness again. Her heart was weighed down as if by lead, and she lost all desire to do anything. She stopped crafting her beloved snowflakes, no longer painted her pictures in the sky, and not a rainbow was to be seen. It was at this point that she felt that she could not deal with her pain any longer. She was lonely, her life had been deprived of the one thing she had ever wanted; a friend. She began to cry slow, painful tears that fell all the way down to the earth below. A low, hollow wailing noise echoed through the skies, and the sun was no longer visible.
The spirits down below saw the changes, and for the first time they realized the pain and suffering of the poor, lonely spirit. As the storm around them thickened, they too became downcast at seeing the spirit whom they considered their friend so sad. Lightning struck, thunder rumbled, tornadoes and hurricanes formed, and the spirits were forced to take shelter from the chaos. As the storm raged, they too began to cry. It was a time of sorrow.
After years of endless storms, the spirits knew that it was their job to fix this mess, as it was them who had never made an effort to reach out to the spirit in the clouds, assuming she liked to be alone. They ascended to the spot on the hill where they used to watch the sky, directly underneath the woeful spirit. This was where the storm was at its worst, and the winds threatened to blow away even the spirits of the air.
They began to call out to her, begging for her to listen. The fires of the flame spirits began to go out, the water spirits lost parts of themselves in the rain, the earth spirits turned to mud and started to fall apart, yet still they stood, calling out to the friend they should have acknowledged long before. They told stories of how they had played in her wondrous snow, spent every evening watching her marvelous pictures in the sky, laid outside for hours gazing upon the rainbows she created. With every new story, every new voice speaking up, the winds lessened, the rain grew less fierce, the sky less gray, until finally the spirits called out to her all at once, declaring the deep love and admiration they felt for her, and the storm stopped altogether.
As the spirits gazed up, they were met with a face they had never seen before, as she had never shown it. The lone spirit's heart lightened upon hearing their calls, and a feeling she had never before felt filled her; love. The spirits gasped in awe as she began to transform once again, sunlight bathing her body until she became encased in it completely. As the light died down, the spirits of the earth were met with the most beautiful sight they had even seen, more so even than her rainbows. For as she came into view once again, she was no longer composed of clouds and water. Her body was pure light, varying in every shade of every color she had ever created. Her golden wings were specked with stardust, with the edges a deep midnight blue. Her hair was long and golden, streaked with bursts of white light, and upon her head sat a crown of stars.
As the lone spirit opened her eyes, she felt a new sensation. It was as if she was suddenly light as the air around her, and to her surprise she found she was no longer tethered to the clouds. She was free to roam the earth as she pleased.
Tears of joy filled her eyes as she swooped down to the world below her, her once-forbidden paradise, and for the first time she landed in the soft grass. The spirits swarmed her, and she was no longer the lone spirit of the sky, doomed to a life without friends. Her life took on a new meaning, and became filled with unbridled joy.
To this day the spirit walks among us, taking delight at all her new friends. Every time it snows, every time you gaze upon a beautiful night sky, every time a rainbow stretches across the horizon, it is the spirit expressing her joy and gratitude at her fortune. It is her way of bringing joy to us. For, you see, though spirits may no longer roam freely, though we may not see them, they see us, and to them, our friendship is the most important thing in the world.