The Soggy Letter

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter.

Tonight, it was raining.

Dudu the owl put on his little cap—

Nighttime is when Dudu goes to work.

Dudu opened the mailbox.

"Hmm?"

The letter on the very top

was soggy and soaked,

and still dripping!

Dudu laid the letter

gently on the table.

The envelope was soft and wet.

The writing on it

had all smudged into one big blur,

blue and purple.

"Who is it for?"

Dudu looked and looked, and looked and looked.

He just couldn't tell.

Dudu didn't give up.

"Let me have a look."

In the corner of the envelope

was a thin, shiny, sticky little trail.

"I know this one!

It's the trail a little snail leaves behind!"

Dudu took a sniff—

"Mmm—it smells nice. It smells like mushrooms!"

Then Dudu remembered:

in the Mushroom Forest

lived a little snail,

and his name was Quanquan.

Dudu tucked the soggy letter into his mail bag,

held a big leaf over his head, and flew up into the sky.

"Goodnight letters, away we go!"

Up above, Mr. Cloud was grey all over.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter—

the rain was falling from Mr. Cloud.

"Sorry, Dudu," said Mr. Cloud in a small, small voice.

"I made too much rain today."

Dudu smiled:

"That's okay. All the flowers and grass have had a good, long drink."

The Mushroom Forest—we're here!

Under a great big mushroom

was a tiny little house.

It was so late, but the light was still on.

"Knock, knock, Quanquan!"

Slowly, ever so slowly,

Quanquan the little snail poked his head out the door.

"Dudu?"

Dudu took out the soggy, dripping letter.

"Quanquan, is this letter from you?"

Quanquan took one look—

"That's my letter!

I wrote it for Bobo..."

The writing had all smudged away.

Quanquan's eyes

went all wet.

Quanquan said, in a small, small voice:

"When I put the letter in the mailbox,

it was raining so, so hard.

I went home,

and I kept thinking, and thinking—

Did the writing wash away?

What if the letter never gets there?

My tummy felt all funny inside,

and I couldn't sleep."

Dudu gave Quanquan's shell a gentle tap:

"The letter got wet, and the writing washed away.

But—

the one who wrote it is right here!"

"Tell me,

what did the letter say?"

Quanquan thought for a moment:

"It rained today,

and Bobo lent me his leaf umbrella.

I wanted to tell him—thank you."

From his mail bag, Dudu

took out a fresh, dry sheet of paper.

"Come on, let's write it again."

Quanquan picked up a crayon

and drew, slowly, ever so slowly—

one great big leaf,

and under the leaf,

a little snail and a little hedgehog,

and one big heart.

Dudu took out a big, shiny leaf

and wrapped the letter up inside.

"There! Now the rain can't get it!"

Quanquan asked:

"Dudu, when it's delivered,

will you come back and tell me?"

Dudu nodded:

"I promise.

Goodnight letters, away we go!"

Under the old tree roots

lived a little hedgehog named Bobo.

"Knock, knock, Bobo! There's a letter for you."

Bobo rubbed his eyes and opened the door.

He opened the leaf, and opened the letter—

and there was the little snail, the little hedgehog,

and that one big heart.

"It's from Quanquan!" Bobo smiled.

Bobo said:

"Quanquan's house is so far away,

and he walks so slowly, slowly.

I kept thinking,

did he get all wet?"

Dudu said:

"He made it home,

and with your leaf umbrella,

he didn't get one single drop on him!"

Bobo let out a big breath too: "Phew—"

"Tell Quanquan for me—

you're welcome!

Tomorrow, when the rain stops,

let's go jumping in puddles together."

Dudu flew and flew,

all the way back to the Mushroom Forest.

Quanquan was still waiting at the door.

"Delivered!" said Dudu.

"Bobo says—you're welcome.

And he says tomorrow, he wants to go jumping in puddles with you."

Quanquan let out a long, long,

long breath:

"Phew—"

"Dudu,

I don't have to keep thinking and thinking anymore.

That funny feeling inside is gone.

Now it feels... all soft and warm."

Dudu smiled and said:

"Phew—when you let out a big breath,

and your heart feels steady and warm,

that feeling is called relieved."

Quanquan said, slowly:

"Relieved...

I feel so relieved now."

Slowly, ever so slowly,

Quanquan curled up inside his shell.

A snail's shell

is his very own little bed.

Outside the window, the rain

grew smaller and softer—

Drip—drop—

Drip—drop—

Dudu said:

"Listen. The rain is singing a goodnight song."

Quanquan's eyes,

slowly, ever so slowly,

drifted closed.

Zzz—zzz—

Softly, ever so softly,

Dudu tiptoed out the door.

"Now off I go with the rest of the letters."

All the letters were delivered.

The rain had stopped.

Mr. Cloud turned white and fluffy again,

and from behind the cloud, the moon

slowly peeked out.

In a little puddle on the ground

shone one round, round moon.

Dudu flew back to the post office and took off his little cap.

Goodnight, Quanquan.

Goodnight, Bobo.

Goodnight, Mr. Cloud.

Goodnight, you—listening to this story.