Jasmine the hero read by Sarah Millican

Jasmine the hero is one of six stories created by patients, families and staff at Great Ormond Street Hospital, with the help of writer Sarah Butler. The audio version is narrated by Sarah Millican.

Jasmine lived at Sandy Waters, in a bright turquoise lake, surrounded by soft yellow sands. Jasmine was different from the other flamingos. She had short legs, and a small body. She had a very pointy beak, and her feathers were such a pale pink, they were almost white. All the other flamingos were just the right size and colour. They had long, long legs. Their beaks were perfectly shaped, and they were all a beautiful shade of pink.

Jasmine did her best to fit in. She made a dark pink paint out of shrimp shells and painted it onto her feathers, but the water kept washing it off and the other flamingos giggled and pointed. She tried to make her beak less pointy by rubbing it against a piece of rock, but that just hurt and her beak stayed the same shape. She tried tucking her feet under a stone and flapping her wings to see if her legs would get any longer, but they never did. All the other birds laughed at her for being different, and didn’t ask her to join in with their games.

One summer, a strange thing started to happen at Sandy Waters. First one flamingo disappeared, then three, then five, then ten. It happened when all the other flamingos were asleep, and no-one heard or saw a thing. Everyone was in a terrible panic. Everyone had a story about what was happening and why, but no-one knew the truth, and no-one knew how to stop it from happening.

Jasmine was a brave and clever flamingo, and even though the other flamingos had never been kind to her, she wanted to help solve the mystery, and save the flock. So one night she hid behind a thorn bush by the edge of the lake, a little way away from the rest of the flamingos, and got ready to watch.

But as the sun set and darkness crept across the lake, Jasmine grew sleepier and sleepier. However hard she tried to keep her eyes open they kept falling shut. She dipped her head into the cool water to wake herself up, but that just seemed to make things worse. As she drifted into a deep sleep, a thought came to her – the water, it tasted different, she was sure of it.

The next morning, the flock was in uproar: three more flamingos had disappeared during the night. Jasmine watched the birds talking and shouting, waving their wings and nodding their long pink heads. There must be an explanation, she told herself, I just need to find out what it is.

So Jasmine flew – low and slow, back and forth – across the bright turquoise lake. It was a big lake. It took a long time to get from one side of it to the other, but Jasmine kept on flying. There must be an explanation, she told herself; I just need to look carefully. Every now and again she stopped to catch one of the lake’s tangy pink shrimps and take a sip of the cool water.

The day passed and Jasmine got sleepier and sleepier, and more and more frustrated. She had almost given up hope, when she saw a small white boat, hidden behind a clump of thorn bushes at the far end of the lake, by the mouth of the river which went all the way to the sea. Jasmine decided to investigate, but the closer she got the more tired she felt. Just as her eyes were about to close, she spied a woman, dressed in a white coat, on the deck of the boat; she was pouring a bottle of silver liquid straight into the lake. Jasmine needed to find out more, but she was falling asleep, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Jasmine woke long after sunrise, her head foggy and her eyes tired. She tried hard to remember what she had seen: a boat; a woman pouring something into the lake; the water tasted strange. Something was very, very wrong, and Jasmine was starting to work out why.

If she was right, she’d need to go without water for the whole day. She also needed to work out if the missing flamingos were still on the boat. As carefully and as quietly as she could, Jasmine flew towards the boat. She was about to land on the deck when a man and a woman, both dressed in white, came out of the cabin. Jasmine changed direction and landed on the roof. At least I’m not bright pink, she thought, if I’m quiet they won’t notice I’m here.

'We have an order in for five,' said the man.

'We’ll get them tonight,' said the woman.

'And then we’ll take the lot of them down to the port for the delivery. Our man’s getting impatient.'

The woman straightened her white jacket and smiled. 'Strange how much money people will pay for those pink feathers,' she said.

Jasmine held her breath and kept her beak tight shut, even though she wanted to shout out loud. They were stealing the flamingos and selling them! And she only had a day and a night to save them.

Jasmine spent the rest of the morning sneaking around the boat, trying to work out where the captured flamingos were being kept. After hours of searching, and hiding from the humans, she noticed a small window at the very back of the boat. She prised it open with her pointy beak, and straight away heard the flamingos talking and crying. The window was a tiny one, but Jasmine was small enough to squeeze herself through. Her legs were short enough for her to walk along the low, narrow tunnel which took her to a large white cage, full of the missing flamingos.

'Jasmine!' one of the flamingos shouted. The rest of the birds turned and started to shout, 'Jasmine! Jasmine! Save us!'

'Shush!' Jasmine held her wing to her beak. She took a long look at the cage door, then at the rows of silver bottles on the shelves of the small room, then at the door that connected the room with the rest of the boat. She thought for a moment, and then she lifted down one of the bottles, turned around and went back the way she had come, ignoring the shouts and curses of the flamingos behind her.

Jasmine’s plan was a dangerous one, and she didn’t have much time. She crept into the cabin where the humans were collecting together bags big enough to put a flamingo into, and rope long enough to tie a flamingo down with. The television was on and they didn’t notice Jasmine lift the lid of the kettle and pour in the entire contents of the silver bottle.

She didn’t have any time to waste. Jasmine’s beak was sharp, but it still took two hours of hard work to peck through each of the strong ropes that kept the boat anchored in the lake. She was tired and thirsty by the time the last rope snapped and the boat started very slowly, to move, away from the thorn bushes and towards the mouth of the river. Jasmine rushed back on board. She glanced through the cabin window at the humans sleeping soundly in their chairs, with their half-drunk cups of tea on the table between them. She squeezed through the window, along the tunnel, and back into the small room.

The flamingos in the cage watched in silence as Jasmine used her sharp pointy beak to pick the lock on the door to the room, then the lock on the door of the cage. A twist, a click, a push, and each door swung open. The flamingos roared with joy and poured out of the cage, out of the boat and up into the air. Jasmine followed a little way after, and there they all were, waiting for her.

Jasmine was a hero. The flamingos crowded around her, laughing and cheering, and demanding to know exactly how she had defeated the humans. The birds watched the boat drift into the river, and out towards the sea, and they laughed and cheered some more. And then they all went home together, and the flamingos threw Jasmine the biggest party the lake had ever seen, and no-one ever laughed at her for being different again.