Finn the Little Fish and the Sleepy Tide
Down in a warm, blue bay, among the swaying seaweed and the bright coral, lived a tiny silver fish named Finn.
All day long, Finn loved to dart. He flashed between the coral branches, quick as a sliver of light. He played tag with the bubbles that rose up from the sand. He raced the little striped fish around the big round rock, again and again, and looped through the tall green seaweed forests just to feel them tickle his fins. He was the zippiest, busiest little fish in the whole bay.
But when the sea grew dark and cool, and the light at the top of the water faded from gold to deep, dreamy blue, all the other fish began to drift slowly home to rest. All except Finn, who was still zipping here and zooming there, too busy to be still.
An old, kind sea turtle came paddling by, slow and steady, the way turtles always do.
"Little Finn," she said in her deep, gentle voice, "stop your zipping for a moment. Let the tide rock you to sleep."
Finn stopped, his little fins still fluttering. "How?" he asked.
"Just feel it," said the turtle. "In… and out."
The tide swayed in, soft and slow, nudging Finn gently towards the coral. Then it swayed out, soft and slow, drawing him gently back. In… and out. In… and out.
Finn let himself sway with it. He stopped trying to dart anywhere at all. He just rocked, this way and that, with the slow and sleepy tide. His quick little fins grew calm and still. The warm water hummed a low, soft, lullaby song all around him.
The coral dimmed its bright daytime colours to soft, dusky pinks and blues. The seaweed swayed slower and slower. The whole bay turned deep and quiet and safe.
"Goodnight, Finn," murmured the old turtle, settling down into the sand nearby.
And the tiny silver fish, rocked gently by the sleepy tide, tucked himself among the soft coral and drifted off, at last, into deep blue dreams.