← Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
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- [00:09]
Narrator
Hello, friends, and welcome to Sleept Stories. Nicole and her mother are shocked when they open the book to look inside and find the words. The Guides walk unseen, their purpose known only when the Seeker is ready to listen. They have walked this path before. Does this really mean someone else has been there before her? Nicole and the Box in the barn part 19 dinner was quieter than usual, though not in an uncomfortable way. Nicole and her mother ate their meal, breaded fish and roasted pei potatoes, while the weight of what they had read lingered between them. Neither of them rushed to talk. Instead, they sat there eating, lost in their thoughts, both coming to terms with the truth they were beginning to understand. After helping clear the table, Nicole excused herself early. No TV tonight. She climbed the stairs to her room, the book tucked under her arm. Lying in bed, she traced the edges of the leather cover, her fingers running over the faint ridges where time had worn it smooth. You're not the first person to walk through that door. The words echoed in her mind, twisting and turning like the compass needle when it spun without direction. Someone had done this before her. Someone had followed the same paths, met the same Guides, and uncovered the same mysteries. But who? And what had they found? Nicole stared up at the ceiling, the question swirling in her head until she finally fell fast asleep. The next morning she woke with the sun, sat up in bed, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The farmhouse was quiet. Her mother must have been outside already. She immediately went into the bathroom to clean up. She fell asleep without brushing her teeth, so she paid extra attention. This morning, after a quick shower, she got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. A note was waiting for her on the breakfast table. Went for a walk through the back fields. If you want to join me, I'm sure you could catch up. Nicole read it twice, then set it down. Not quite ready for a brisk walk through the fields, she murmured. She pulled open the bread box, grabbed some thick slices, and popped them into the toaster. Toast and peanut butter, an old favorite. She sat by the window, chewing absently as she stared outside at the garden. The morning light cast a warm glow over the flowers, and for a moment it felt as if the garden was waiting for her. After finishing breakfast, Nicole laced up her sneakers and stepped outside. She wasn't planning to go through the door, at least not yet. But but while she sometimes shared her mother's enthusiasm for enjoying sunny mornings, the garden was what truly drew her. Outside, the dew was still heavy on the fresh cut grass, which made her once prized sneakers a summer shade of green. As she walked through the garden, she let her fingers skim the tops of the plants, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. Good morning, she said softly, her voice carried away by the breeze. The flowers swayed gently, and the berry bushes seemed fuller than yesterday. The apple trees, too, were still heavy with fruit. She had picked some before, but somehow they never seemed to run out. She wanted to say more, to talk to the plants, but just as she reached a clearing near the door, something caught her eye. A small wooden carving half buried in the dirt near the roots of an apple tree. Smooth and dark with age, no bigger than her palm. It was completely out of place and, except for the trunk, looked nothing like what would be found on an island farm. Nicole knelt and carefully picked it up, brushing away the loose soil. The surface was warm from the sun, its edges worn as if it had passed through many hands. She turned it over, running her fingers over faint ridges, symbols carved into the wood, seemingly like the patterns she had seen in the book. She held it closer, studying the delicate etchings. Had this been here all along? She would have noticed, wouldn't she? She had sat by this tree a number of times before. It wasn't there before, she decided. She looked around, half expecting to see someone watching her from the fields or the barn, but she was alone. Nicole swallowed hard, gripping the carving tightly in her palm. You're not the first person to walk through that door. Was this proof A clue left behind by someone else who had stepped through the same doorway recently? She exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the carving. She needed to check the book. Back in the house, Nicole hurried to the kitchen table and flipped open the book, her hands moving faster than her thoughts. The leather cover felt warm under her touch, as if it had been waiting for her. She scanned the pages, searching for the familiar patterns. Then she saw them on the edges of an old map drawn in faded ink. The same swirling designs looping and curling around the corners like vines. The same exotic carved lines she had traced with her fingers just minutes ago. Nicole's stomach tightened with excitement. Next to the symbols was a sketch of a barn. Her barn. But in the background, drawn faintly, there was something else. A structure she had never seen before. A building that didn't exist now. Nicole's brow furrowed. Beneath the drawing, in the same handwriting as before, was a single line of text. Time leaves its mark even when we do not see it. Maybe something had changed, or was going to change. She had to find out what. Nicole closed the book carefully, her fingers still curling around her palm's wooden carving. The symbols, the sketch, the message they meant something, and she had a feeling the answer wasn't in the present. She stepped outside, the sun high in the sky, the scent of freshly cut grass lingering in the air. The garden stood before her. Quiet, expectant. Nicole hesitated at the garden gate, the wooden carving still clutched in her hand. The book had shown her something. A barn, or at least another barn that no longer seemed to exist. But she had seen no ruins, no foundation, nothing to suggest that a building had once stood there. It wasn't abandoned. It was erased. And if it had been erased, when had that happened? Her fingers tightened around the carving as she turned away from the garden and headed toward the back of the barn. She had never really paid attention to what was behind it before. The barn was just there, part of the landscape. But as she stepped onto the overgrown grass, she noticed something strange. The ground felt different beneath her feet, softer in some places, like it had been disturbed long ago. The grass here wasn't as thick, and when she crouched down, she noticed small patches of bare earth where the sun had baked the soil dry. It could be anything, though. An old garden or place to store whatever they store on a farm. Nicole ran her hand over the dirt, brushing away loose pebbles and bits of dried grass. Then she froze. Something hard was just below the surface. She pressed down gently, feeling the resistance of wood, rough and splintered, like part of an old beam or floorboard. Not far from it, something metal glinted in the sunlight. She reached for it, brushing away more soil until she revealed what looked like an iron hinge, rusted and brittle. There was a building here once. She stepped carefully through the tall grass behind the barn, scanning the ground for signs that something had had once stood there. At first, nothing seemed unusual, just uneven earth, patches of wildflowers, and the occasional old fence post buried in the brush. But then, as she walked farther, she noticed something strange. A space where the grass grew thinner, where the soil looked too smooth, too undisturbed for a place that had been left alone for decades. Nicole crouched down and pressed her palm against the earth. It felt firm but hollow, as if something should have been there. She stood, brushing her hands against her jeans, scanning the space again with fresh eyes. There were no boards, no rusted nails, no signs of decay. Nothing left behind. It wasn't that the barn had fallen apart over time. It was as if it had never existed. Nicole swallowed hard, gripping the carving tighter in her palm. Something had changed. The barn hadn't just fallen apart over time. It had been erased. A breeze stirred the grass around her, sending a shiver up her spine. She had to know what happened. Her feet moved before her mind caught up, carrying her across the yard and back toward the garden. The plants seemed to shift as she passed, as though aware of her urgency. The apple trees stood heavy with fruit, unchanged. But what else had changed? What else had been altered? She reached the wooden door, the vines curling tightly around its edges. The compass in her pocket was hot now, pulsing against her leg. Nicole's breath caught in her throat. The past and present were connected, and whatever had been lost, she needed to find out why. She wrapped her fingers around the handle and pulled the door open. Nicole stepped through the door, gripping the carving tightly in her hand. The familiar tingling sensation rippled through her, a fleeting moment where everything felt weightless, as if the world was shifting around her. Then the warmth of the sun hit her skin and the scent of the fields filled her nose. Fresh earth, hay, and the faint trace of something sweet in the air. She was back. But something was off. The farmhouse stood in the distance, and the barn was exactly where she expected it to be. The rolling fields stretched around her, golden under the afternoon light. But the air felt too still, like the land was holding its breath. Then she noticed it. The space behind the barn, where she had always assumed was just an empty stretch of field, was too empty. The grass was smooth and undisturbed, with no uneven ground or hint of an old foundation. Maybe she had never noticed it before simply because she wasn't looking for it. Nicole turned in slow circles, scanning the land. Something was missing. Nicole. The voice startled her, and she turned to see Angus hurrying toward her, wiping his hands on his trousers. He was covered in dust, his hair messier than usual, like he had been working on something. You're back, he said, his brows furrowed slightly, as though he had expected her. But not like this. Nicole hesitated. Yeah, I. She faltered. How was she supposed to explain this? Angus tilted his head, studying her. You disappeared last time just like that, he said, snapping his fingers. And now you're back like nothing happened. Nicole swallowed. Right about that. Angus frowned, studying her carefully. I've been thinking. You said you were visiting neighbors, but something doesn't add up. Nicole's stomach twisted. What do you mean? She asked carefully. Instead of answering, Angus hesitated, as if choosing his words. Then he motioned for her to follow. Come with me. I want to show you something. Angus led her toward the barn, but instead of heading inside, he veered off toward a smaller shed she hadn't paid much attention to before. You ever seen this? He asked, pushing open the creaky wooden door. Inside, the air was stale and filled with dust. But what caught Nicole's attention was the wooden beam near the entrance. It was covered in faded carvings, symbols that looked eerily familiar. Nicole stepped forward, running her fingers over the weathered surface. She recognized some of them. They were the same symbols etched into the wooden carving she had found in the garden. Her heart pounded. You did this, didn't you? Angus asked, watching her closely. Nicole shook her head. No. I mean, not that I remember. But you know what it is. Nicole exhaled. Sort of. I found something like this at home. And Angus didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded. Well, whatever it means, someone left it here. And I think it was meant for you. Nicole's fingers traced the symbols one more time before she stepped back. Her mind raced. If these symbols existed here, then something or someone had left them behind before she ever arrived. But the barn, the missing building, the Changing Book. It wasn't just about discovering secrets anymore. She was part of this now, and if she kept traveling, she might change more than she realized. The thought sent a chill down her spine. Nicole barely spoke as she followed Angus back toward the barn, her mind racing. She had changed something, but was it something small or something bigger than she understood? Are you all right? Angus asked, glancing at her. You've gone quiet. Nicole forced a nod. Yeah, I just. She hesitated, searching for the right words. I just remembered something I need to check at home. Angus didn't press her, though his expression stayed thoughtful. All right. But you'll come back, won't you? Nicole hesitated, her fingers brushing the compass in her pocket. Yeah, she said at last. I will. Before he could ask anything more, she turned, making her way back toward the door. The weight of the wooden carving pressed into her palm, and with each step her unease grew. She had changed something, but was it something small or something bigger than she understood? As she stepped through the door, the cool air of her home on the island greeted her again. The scent of cut grass filled her nose, and the farmhouse stood just as she had left it. She exhaled, pressing a hand against her chest. Home. The farmhouse stood quiet, unchanged, as if nothing had happened. The weight in her pocket, the carving, the compass told her otherwise. Nicole climbed the porch steps and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. The smell of toast and peanut butter still filled the air. She kicked off her sneakers, suddenly aware of how much dust clung to her jeans from the barn and the fields. Then, as she stepped into the kitchen, her eyes landed on the table. The book. She had left it open before she went outside, but now something was different. The pages had shifted as if someone had turned them in her absence. Nervous, Nicole stepped closer. A new sketch had appeared, one she hadn't seen before. The lines were delicate, inked with the same care as the other illustrations. A place she hadn't been to yet. And underneath it, in the same cursive script as before. Not all doors are meant to be opened, but some are waiting for you. And that is the end of this part. Good night. Sleep tight.