It was a blustery autumn day in the neighborhood, and leaves were swirling in every direction as Charlie Brown made his way to the pumpkin patch, clutching a kite in his hands. "This time," he muttered to himself, "I'm going to fly this kite. This time, it's going to work." His scarf flapped in the wind, giving him the look of a boy who believed, against all odds, that today would be his day.

Lucy watched him, smirking, as she sipped hot cocoa from a thermos. "Charlie Brown, do you ever learn? That kite-eating tree will have you for breakfast."

"Not this time, Lucy," Charlie Brown replied, with the kind of defiant optimism only he could muster. "This is the perfect wind."

Suddenly, the world darkened as a familiar figure came into view: Snoopy, wearing his World War I Flying Ace goggles and scarf, crouched low and sneaking toward his doghouse. He gave Charlie Brown a sidelong look and a sharp salute. The wind ruffled his fur, and his nose wiggled in anticipation.

"Ah, Snoopy," Charlie Brown sighed, "if only I could have your confidence!"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Good grief, Charlie Brown, you're talking to a dog who thinks his doghouse is a Sopwith Camel. Maybe that's your problem!"

But Charlie Brown was determined. He set his kite on the ground and began unwinding the string, slowly letting it up into the air. The kite rose, catching the autumn breeze perfectly. He could almost taste victory.

"Look at that, Lucy!" he shouted, thrilled. "It's flying!"

Lucy didn't have a chance to respond, as a monstrous gust of wind took hold of Charlie Brown's kite and yanked it—and Charlie Brown—up into the sky. In an instant, he was airborne, clutching the kite string for dear life. "Aaaaaaahhh!"

Linus looked up from his book in disbelief. "Great pumpkin!" he cried. "Charlie Brown's flying!"

A stunned crowd began to gather. Sally gasped. Schroeder dropped his music sheets. Pigpen looked up, clouded by his dust storm. Snoopy tilted his head in curiosity, then struck a heroic Flying Ace pose, clearly recognizing a fellow aviator in distress.

Meanwhile, high above the neighborhood, Charlie Brown flapped through the air like a kite-shaped flag. "Help!" he shouted. "Someone, get me down!"

Lucy, of course, didn't miss a beat. "Hold on, Charlie Brown! You've always wanted to be noticed! Look at you now!"

The wind whistled, carrying him over the fence, over the baseball field, and straight toward the kite-eating tree. "Oh, no!" Charlie Brown moaned as he hurtled toward its gnarled branches.

Below, Snoopy trotted along, never missing a beat, fully committed to this unexpected flight plan. Finally, with a loud crunch, Charlie Brown and his kite crashed straight into the tree, which rattled and shivered, thrilled at another kite for its collection.

Somehow, Charlie Brown managed to disentangle himself and slide down to safety, branches tangled in his hair and his shirt rumpled. He landed in a heap at the base of the tree, groaning.

Lucy gave him a once-over and shook her head. "Nice try, Charlie Brown. That's why they call it an ill wind—it never blows you any good."

Charlie Brown gave a defeated sigh. But then, as if in response to his valiant (if unsuccessful) flight, the wind shifted. A single leaf floated down and landed in his hand.

"Maybe I didn't fly the kite," he said, smiling a little. "But I did get to fly."

Snoopy gave a bark of agreement, then threw him a wink, as if to say, "Mission accomplished, old sport."

And Charlie Brown, for once, felt that maybe—just maybe—this had been a victory worth having.