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Cumulus was a cloud. A perfectly respectable, fluffy, white cloud. But he was also terribly bored. All the other clouds gossiped about rain, or complained about wind, or simply drifted aimlessly. Cumulus longed for more. "I wish," he puffed softly, "I could make something beautiful." He watched the sunset, the sky ablaze with oranges and purples, and an idea sparked within his misty heart. "I shall be an artist!"

His first attempt was a bit wobbly. He tried to form a magnificent castle, but it sagged sadly into a lopsided mushroom. "Needs work," he sighed, reshaping himself into a more modest sheep.

But Cumulus was determined. He practiced. He learned to stretch, to swirl, to gather tiny bits of sunlight and shadow to add depth. He discovered he could absorb colors from the sunrise and sunset, holding them within his vaporous form before releasing them in brilliant bursts. His art was ephemeral, appearing only for a moment before the wind gently carried it away, making it all the more special.

Soon, people on the ground started noticing. A shepherd, tending his flock, looked up and gasped. There, floating above him, was a perfect, shimmering image of a leaping ram, its wool made of spun sunlight. A little girl, walking home from school, pointed excitedly at a gigantic, friendly dragon, its scales glowing with sunset hues, winking down at her.

"Did you see that?" people would ask each other, pointing at the sky. "It looked just like a giant teacup!" or "I swear I saw a unicorn galloping through the air!"

Cumulus never heard their exclamations directly, but he felt the warmth of their wonder. He sculpted soaring eagles, intricate lace patterns, entire fantastical kingdoms, all from his own cloud-stuff. His favorite was a smiling whale, so vast and detailed it seemed to swim across the entire horizon.

He was no longer just a cloud. He was Cumulus the Canvas Cloud, a fleeting, magnificent artist of the sky. And though his masterpieces vanished as quickly as they appeared, they left behind something just as precious: a shared moment of breathtaking beauty and the quiet, joyful hum of a cloud who had finally found his purpose.