⏱ ~5 min reading
Little Sonya lived in a small apartment on the third floor. She had short blond hair, a freckle on her nose, two homemade teddy bear slippers, and one big dream: to see the real Mars.
Every evening, Sonya would go to the window, pull back the curtain, and look in the sky for that little reddish speck that her father had once said:
"There it is. The nearest neighboring planet.".
“Does anyone live there?” Sonya asked then.
"Nobody knows yet," Dad replied. "Maybe we'll find out someday.".
Sonya nodded and remembered. And then one winter evening, when snow was falling quietly outside and her felt boots were drying on the radiator, she took the album, the biggest, thick pencil and decided.
— I'll draw someone on Mars. So that he won't be lonely there.
She thought for a long time about who to draw. A giraffe? A giraffe in a spacesuit — it's funny, but her neck won't fit in it. An elephant? An elephant is heavy — space won't hold it. And suddenly an idea occurred to her.
"A cat. Of course, a cat. A cat in a spacesuit.".
Sonya drew for a long time. Sticking out her tongue. Her cat turned out to be red, with a white spot on its chest, and big green eyes. The spacesuit was white, with three stripes and a small window for its muzzle. On its paws were tiny boots. On its head was a round helmet, which still had room for its ears. On the side, Sonya signed in large, slightly crooked letters: "A CAT ON MARS. MURKO.".
"There," she said with satisfaction. "Now you must be sent away.".
She took the drawing, opened the window—cold air blew into her face—and carefully placed the piece of paper on the windowsill.
— Fly, Murka. Your path is to Mars. You will live there, waiting for me. And I will come to visit you someday.
The wind quietly picked up the drawing. Lifted it. Spinned it. And carried it — first past the house, then higher than the trees, then higher still — past the roofs, past the pipes, past the clouds, past the planes, past the first stars that had just lit up.
The drawing flew for a long time. A very, very long time. Three whole years.
As he flew past the Moon, the Moon smiled softly:
"Oh, what a beautiful cat. Let him fly wherever he wants.".
As it flew past the asteroid belt, the small pebbles delicately parted so as not to crumple the paper.
And then one Martian morning, when a small white sun rose over the red deserts and grains of sand rustled softly in the light breeze, Sonya's drawing gently descended onto Mars. Gently. Like a feather.
And then a miracle happened. A living creature began to form from the drawn lines. First, the mustache moved. Then green eyes flashed. Then something softly purred.
— Mur-mur-mur.
On the red sand stood a real cat in a white spacesuit. Red-haired, with a white spot on its chest, with three stripes on its side, with a round helmet with protruding ears. Exactly as Sonya had drawn it.
The cat took a cautious step. Then another. He looked around. The whole planet was his. Red sky, red hills, silence, only the wind rustling.
"Well," the cat purred to himself. "I'll wait.".
He found a place behind a small round stone, curled up into a ball, and waited. He waited patiently. He looked at the Earth, a tiny blue star in his helmet window. And he dreamed of cheesy days, of a warm radiator, and of the one who had sent him here.
And time passed on Earth. Sonya grew up. She went to school. She grew a little. Her two front teeth fell out and new ones grew in. She did not forget about the drawing - it lived in her heart with a quiet warm light.
Then one day — when Sonya was already ten — the news said something very big:
— The first astronauts arrived on Mars.
Sonya ran from the kitchen with a sandwich in her hand and sat down in front of the TV. Dad and Mom too. All three of them watched as three people in spacesuits walked slowly across the red sand. And suddenly one of the astronauts stopped, leaned over and gasped.
The camera moved closer. On the screen was a ginger cat. In a white spacesuit. With three stripes. With a round helmet with ears sticking out of it. He was sitting behind a rock and purring softly.
The astronaut whispered into the microphone:
"Here...there's a cat here. A real cat. In a spacesuit.".
It immediately flew around the entire planet. Everyone was amazed. Scientists argued. Journalists wrote. And Sonya slowly put the sandwich on a plate, came closer to the screen and whispered:
"This is Murko. This is my Murko.".
She ran to her room, pulled out an old folder from under the bed. There, among the old drawings, was another sheet of paper—a copy of the one she had once placed on the windowsill. She showed it to her mother.
Mom looked. She looked again. And her lips trembled.
"Sweetheart," she said quietly, "it's him. It's exactly him.".
When this story was told on TV, adults shrugged their shoulders. It couldn't be. Coincidence. But wise adults—and there are such—nodded their heads:
— Well, that's it. It's the same as always. Our imagination creates reality. If you truly believe in something, it appears.
And Sonya opened the window again that evening. She looked at the little reddish speck in the sky and whispered:
"Hello, Murka. I saw you. You're a good guy for waiting.".
Far, far away, on the red sand behind a round stone, a cat pricked up its ears and purred in response. Quietly, quietly. But she heard it.
They say that Mars is red because Murko plays with tomato sauce there. So says Sonya. And we believe her. Because children know truths that adults have long forgotten. And the most important of those truths is this: when you dream truly, not for fun, but with a real warm heart, somewhere in the Universe your dream has already begun to come true. You just need to give it a little time to fly.
✨ If you sincerely believe in something good, it actually appears ✨