Once upon a time, on the bottom of the ocean, there lived a starfish named Stella.
Stella had five arms and one very big worry.
She was not sparkly anymore.
The other fish shimmered. 🐠
The coral glowed. 🪸
Even the sand had little bits of glitter in it.
But Stella looked at herself and saw only plain, flat orange.
“I have lost my sparkle,” said Stella. “And I don’t know where it went.”
🔍 Looking in All the Wrong Places
Stella went to find sparkle.
She rolled in the shiny sand.
Still plain.
She sat next to the glowing coral for a whole hour.
Still plain.
She swam up near the surface where the sunlight danced on the water.
Still plain.
“Sparkle doesn’t want to come to me,” Stella said sadly.
She sank back down to the bottom and sat very still.
🌟 A New Friend Looks Closer
Michael was snorkelling near the rock pool, face in the water, eyes wide open.
Michael saw Stella sitting all alone on the sand.
Michael popped up to take a breath, then dived down for a closer look.
“Hello,” said Michael through the water, in a bubbly sort of way.
Stella looked up.
“Hello,” said Stella quietly.
“You look sad,” said Michael.
“I lost my sparkle,” Stella said. “I’m not shiny. I’m not glowy. I’m just… plain.”
Michael looked at Stella very carefully.
Really carefully.
The way you look at something when you really want to see it.
Then Michael said: “Stella. Look at your arms.”
💛 Seeing What Was Always There
Stella looked down at her five arms.
Michael pointed to the very tip of the first arm.
There was a tiny, tiny dot of gold.
Then the second arm.
Another dot.
Third, fourth, fifth — all five tips.
Five tiny golden dots, glowing soft and warm.
“I didn’t see those,” Stella whispered.
“They were always there,” said Michael. “You just forgot to look.”
Stella stared at her own arms.
And something happened.
The more she looked, the more she saw.
Little flecks of copper. Tiny hints of rose. The softest shimmer along every edge.
Not loud sparkle.
Not showy sparkle.
But hers. All hers. 🌟
🌊 Shining from the Inside
Stella stood up very tall on all five arms.
She stretched herself out as wide as she could go.
And she shone.
Not like the glittery sand.
Not like the glowing coral.
Like herself.
Like Stella.
The little fish swam over to look.
“Oh, Stella,” said the smallest fish. “You’re beautiful.”
Stella smiled the biggest starfish smile.
Michael floated above, watching and beaming.
“See?” Michael called down. “Sparkle comes from inside.”