Read the story
Read "Ava and the Starbound Express", a grandparent adventure sample storybook: a fictional example of a personalized book.
Grandma slid a little train ticket across the table. ‘Where shall we go?’ she asked. Ava drew a star. ‘Somewhere we’ve never been!’
Grandpa set his toy train on the rug. Clickety-click! It grew until its door was taller than Ava. Beyond the window, the tracks curled into the clouds.
Something warm blinked beneath a seat. A little star! ‘You’re a long way from the sky,’ Ava whispered. She made it a nest in her scarf.
Grandma unfolded a map. ‘Moon Station,’ she said. ‘That’s where stars catch the skyward breeze.’ Ava pointed to the winding track. ‘Then that’s where we’ll take you.’
Grandpa rang the bell. Ding-ding! The Starbound Express puffed over the rooftops. Ava pressed her nose to the window. The houses looked like building blocks.
At Cloud Harbor, fluffy boats bobbed beside the platform. Ava counted three tunnels in the mountain ahead. ‘Which one goes to Moon Station?’
A breeze flicked Grandma’s map over her nose. ‘Well,’ she laughed, ‘this way leads to my glasses!’ Ava caught the corner before it fluttered away.
Ava held the map flat. One tunnel had tiny stars around its door. ‘Those match!’ she said. Grandma smiled. ‘Our navigator has found the way.’
Inside the tunnel, crystal lanterns glowed blue and pink. The wheels sang clickety-clack. Ava hummed along. Her little passenger blinked a brighter gold.
Then the train stopped. Ahead, a bridge of light ended halfway across the clouds. Ava’s humming stopped too. ‘How will we get over there?’
Grandpa checked the engine. Grandma checked the map. ‘We can wait and think,’ she said. Ava listened. Somewhere, a tiny note was ringing.
The sound came from the star. Ting! Ava hummed the same note. A golden stepping-stone appeared beyond the gate. ‘Did you see that?’
Grandma joined in, soft and low. Grandpa added a wonderfully wobbly hum. Ava giggled—and kept singing. One by one, the bridge lit up.
‘Ready, team?’ asked Grandpa. The train rolled onto the shining bridge. Ava sang all the way across, with Grandma on one side and the star on the other.
Moon Station had a silver roof and a clock shaped like a biscuit. But the star stayed tucked in Ava’s scarf. Its light had gone very small.
‘Perhaps goodbyes feel big, even for stars,’ said Grandma. Ava sat beside her. They didn’t hurry. Grandpa sat close enough for Ava to lean against him.
Ava began their song again. Grandma and Grandpa joined her. This time, the star rose slowly from the scarf—up to Ava’s nose, then past Grandpa’s hat.
The skyward breeze lifted it higher. A bright new twinkle joined the sky. ‘We got you home,’ Ava whispered. Grandma squeezed her hand. ‘All of us together.’
On the way home, Ava’s eyes grew heavy. Grandpa hummed. Grandma tucked the scarf around Ava’s knees. Clickety-click. There was no better place to be.
Back on the rug, the train was small again. Ava turned over her ticket. ‘Next time,’ she said, ‘let’s draw an ocean.’ Grandma and Grandpa leaned closer. ‘Tell us more.’