← Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
Nicole And The Box In The Barn P.22 ✨ (Bedtime Series)
00:23:17
Join us as the next chapter unfolds in this mystery full of family secrets, forgotten buildings, and quiet adventures beneath Prince Edward Island skies.
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A short message for grown ups parents. We've all had those times when the whole family is off on their own screens. Wouldn't it be great to find something active and fun that everyone agrees on? Families everywhere are discovering Next Playground an active gain system where your body powers the play. No controllers or wearables, just natural 100% motion driven fun. Fly with how to Train youn Dragon, Dance with Barbie, Pop Bubbles in Gabby's Dollhouse or Master Moves with Kung Fu Panda all from your living room. Even better, Next Playground is totally kid safe. No ads, no in app purchases and no mature content. Just good clean fun for long summer days. Want to learn more? Visit nextplayground.com that's nexplayground.com to explore active family gaming today. Hello friends and welcome to sleept Stories. We love getting to know our listeners through your stories, messages and birthday wishes. These shout outs are one of our ways of staying connected and saying thank you for being part of our sleept community. Happy 5th birthday Juniper. We love you. Our little Firecracker from Mama, Daddy, Sisters and brother. Happy 10th birthday to Jack in Buenos Aires wishing you a full year of adventure and relaxation. Love mom, dad and Grace. Happy Birthday to Sage on July 13th. Keep being an awesome kid. Happiest 9th birthday to the most incredible gymnastics star Violet in New Zealand. We admire your hard work and dedication you show in life. We all love you so much. Mom, dad, Stephen, Stella, River, Wolfie and mittens. Happy 8th birthday to Fiona in Castle Rock, Colorado from Mommy, Daddy and brother Christopher. We love you and your beautiful creative mind and caring spirit. Happy 8th birthday to Oscar from Canberra, Australia on July 5th. Mom, dad and Parker are so proud of you. Happy 9th birthday to Beatrice from Colorado. We love you so much. You are the bringer of joy. Love mom, dad and Henry. Happy 6th birthday to our Transformers loving LEGO Master. We are so proud of you and all you have accomplished this year Nolan. We can't wait for all the amazing adventures this year will bring. Forever and always. Mommy, Daddy, Kai and the pets. Happy Birthday to Hudson Graham who turned 10 on June 30 from his mom, dad Clark and Waffles the bunny who love you every day all day. Happy belated fifth birthday to our amazing inquisitive kid Warren in Houston, California. We love you. Love mom and dad. Happy seventh Birthday to Lola from Forest Gate. Mom and dad are so proud to be your parents. Happy 4th birthday to Mikey in Rives Junction. Mama, Daddy and Millie. Love you so much. Sleep tight sweet boy and shout out to Jack Greger from Maple Grove, Minnesota, who turned 6 on July 2nd. Happy birthday, special Boy. Love, mom, dad, and Luki. Happy Birthday to you all and thank you for supporting the show. If you'd like to support our podcast and enjoy ad free episodes, unlock bonus stories and so much more, you can join SleepType Premium. Subscribe in just two taps via the link in our show Notes. Now onto our story. Nicole and her mother have talked about what they found out and what it could mean. As Nicole gets ready to go and speak to Angus, she pauses and changes her mind. She thinks maybe they need to figure out a few more things first. Nicole and the Box in The Barn Part 22 Nicole paused at the garden gate, her hand resting on the warm metal latch. The compass felt heavy in her pocket and the small wooden carving pressed against her palm just beyond the magical door. Angus was probably working on the farm, maybe wondering if she'd visit again today. She had so many questions for him about his family, about the caretakers, about Margaret. But something made her hesitate. She looked back at the farmhouse, where the kitchen window glowed with morning light. Her mother was still sitting at the table, surrounded by all those family documents, letters, photographs. The family tree that showed generations of McDonalds working alongside McLean's Donald. McDonald's journal lay open beside her mother's tea mug, its pages full of secrets. They were only beginning to understand the coordinates, Nicole whispered to herself. Maybe we should figure out what Great Grandfather Donald was trying to show us before I ask Angus about his family. It made sense, didn't it? If she was going to ask angus about the McDonald's being caretakers, she should understand what they were actually guarding. The mysterious coordinates pointed to places on their farm, places that might hold answers about the garden's history. Nicole turned away from the door, feeling the garden's gentle disappointment in the way the flowers seemed to droop slightly. I'll be back, she promised. But first mom and I need to do some detective work. Walking back toward the house, Nicole felt the compass pulling her in different directions. Toward the barn, toward the fence line, toward that spot behind the house where the coordinates pointed to empty ground. Or what appeared to be empty ground. Mom, she called as she pushed through the screen door. I think we should investigate those coordinates together before I go see Angus. I have a feeling we're going to find something important. The screen door slammed behind her with its usual bang as Nicole walked back into the kitchen, brushing morning dew from her sneakers on the doormat. She was in too much of a rush to take off her sneakers. Nicole's mother looked up from the scattered documents, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. You're not going through the door today. I want to, nicole said, setting the compass on the table next to Donald McDonald's journal. But I keep thinking if I'm going to ask Angus about his family being caretakers, shouldn't we understand what they were taking care of first? First, her mother smiled and closed the journal carefully. That's very mature thinking, Nicole. Sometimes the best way forward is to understand where you've been. They gathered everything they needed. A phone for gps, a measuring tape from the toolbox, and some gardening stakes her mother had bought but never used. Nicole tucked the compass into her pocket, where it immediately began, its now familiar warm pulsing. Okay, her mother said, consulting the coordinates in Donald McDonald's journal. According to these numbers, the first location should be she frowned at her phone screen, then looked toward the back of the house. That doesn't make sense. It's pointing to our backyard, where there's nothing but grass. Let's check it out, nicole suggested, pulling the compass from her pocket. The needle swung immediately toward the area behind the house, just as her mother's GPS indicated they headed outside together, Nicole's mother grabbing a light jacket from the hook box. The door. The morning air was crisp, but her mother still wore her sandals. She would wear them in the water if she could. Arriving at the area, they paced out the distance together, Nicole's mother counting steps while Nicole watched the compass grow warmer and warmer. When they reached the spot, both the GPS and compass agreed they were standing exactly where Donald McDonald's coordinates pointed. There's definitely nothing here, her mother said, looking around at the overgrown grass and wildflowers. But Nicole knelt down and pressed her palm against the ground. Mom, feel this. She guided her mother's hand to the earth. Doesn't it feel different? Her mother's eyebrows rose. It does feel hollow, like there's a space underneath. They moved to the second coordinate location, the area near the barn where Nicole had seen the shimmer. Again the compass and GPS agreed, and again the ground felt unusual beneath their feet. This time, Nicole noticed that the grass grew in a slightly different pattern, as if something underground was affecting how the roots spread. The third location, near the fence line where Nicole had found the carved piece of wood, yielded the biggest surprise. As they searched the area more carefully, her mother found another carved piece half buried in the soil. And then another. It's like someone scattered these deliberately, her mother observed, turning the wooden pieces over in her hands. Or like they fell from something that used to be here. Nicole stood in the center of the third location, compass spinning slowly in her palm. Mom, I think these coordinates aren't just marking random spots. I think they're marking places where buildings used to stand. Her mother looked back toward the other two locations they'd investigated. So which one should we explore first? Nicole held up the compass, watching as the needle settled on the spot behind the house, the first coordinates they'd visited. This one feels the most hollow underfoot. And look. She pointed the compass in that direction and it grew noticeably warmer in her hand. They walked back to the area behind the house, where the overgrown grass swayed gently in the morning breeze. Her mother knelt down and pressed her palms against the earth. You're right. It definitely feels like there's a space underneath. Should we dig a little, just to see what's down there? Nicole nodded eagerly. Let's get some tools. But we should be careful. If something's really buried here, we don't want to damage it. They returned to the house and gathered supplies. A small spade, a hand trowel, and an old brush her mother used for cleaning. Back at the coordinates, they began carefully clearing away thick grass and decades of accumulated soil. Go slowly, her mother cautioned as Nicole worked with the spade. If there's something historical here, we want to preserve it. Nicole had only dug down about 6 inches when the spade hit something hard with a distinctive scraping sound. There's something here. They both knelt down, using their trowel and their hands to carefully brush away the red island soil. What they uncovered made them both gasp. Stone smooth, fitted stones that formed what was clearly the corner of a foundation. This is definitely man made. Not the usual rocks we find, her mother said, running her fingers along the carefully laid stonework. And it's old. Look how the stones are fitted together. This is the same style as our farmhouse foundation. Working together, they followed the line of stones, clearing away grass and soil as they went. The foundation was smaller than their house, but substantial, maybe the size of a large cottage. The stones were the same red island stone used in many of the area's older buildings, weathered but still solid after what must have been decades underground. As they worked, Nicole found more carved pieces of wood scattered among the stones. Some no bigger than coins, others the size of her palm. All bore the same swirling symbols they'd been seeing throughout their discoveries. Look at this, her mother said, carefully lifting a piece of metal from nearby what appeared to be the front corner of the foundation. It was a door hinge, old and rusted, but still recognizable. Someone definitely lived Here. Nicole sat back on her heels, surveying their discovery. The foundation outlined a building that would have had a perfect view of both the main farmhouse and the garden. From here, someone could have watched over both the family and the magical space. Mom, she said quietly. I think we found the guardian's house. Her mother looked up from where she was brushing soil from another carved piece. The what? The place Donald MacDonald mentioned in his journal. Where the caretakers lived. Nicole pulled the compass from her pocket. It was so warm now that it was almost uncomfortable to hold. This is what the coordinates were trying to show us. This is where the McDonald family lived when they were taking care of our family's garden. We should research this properly, her mother said, standing up and brushing red soil from her knees. Let's gather everything we found and see what the documents can tell us about this place. Nicole carefully collected the carved wooden pieces they'd discovered among the foundation stones, wrapping them in an old dish towel her mother had brought outside. The compass had finally cooled down in her pocket, as if it was satisfied they'd found what it had been leading them to. I feel like we're archaeologists, nicole said as they walked back toward the house, their arms full with tools and discoveries. Real archaeologists would probably be more systematic than we're being. Her mother laughed. But this is pretty exciting. Back inside the warm kitchen, they spread everything out on the table like pieces of a puzzle. Donald McDonald's journal lay open beside the scattered wooden carvings. The family tree was weighted down with her mother's coffee mug, and the yellowed letters from the attic were arranged in chronological order. Nicole washed her hands at the kitchen sink, watching the red island soil swirl down the drain. Okay, so we know there was definitely a building where those coordinates pointed. Now we need to figure out what it was and who lived there. Her mother had both journals open on the table. Listen to this from Donald's journal, she said, running her finger along the faded ink. Young Margaret has settled well into the cottage. She keeps careful watch over the garden and has proven most helpful with the visitors who arrive through the door. And look at this entry in your father's journal, her mother continued, switching books. He wrote, The MacDonald Cottage foundation is still visible if you know where to look. Margaret's descendants still live nearby and remember the stories. They helped me understand my role as a guardian. Visitors, Nicole repeated, settling into her chair. Like me. It sounds like it. And here's another entry. The cottage provides the McDonald's with proper oversight of both the main house and the garden. From their front window, they can see anyone approaching the magical door. Her mother looked up. Nicole, that foundation is positioned exactly where someone could watch both the house and the garden. They turned to the attic letters next. In one dated 1891, Nicole found a passage that made her heart skip. The construction of the caretaker's cottage is nearly complete. Mr. McDonald assures me his family will maintain proper watch over the garden and assist any family members who inherit the gift. Another letter, this one from 1893, mentioned payment to D. MacDonald for services as guardian and noted that young Margaret MacDonald has shown particular aptitude for assisting visitors. Donald McDonald, Nicole said. Great Grandfather Donald was paying someone named D. MacDonald. Do you think that could be Angus's ancestor? Her mother finished. It has to be. The family tree and Father's journal confirmed their suspicions. Donald had written notes in the margins about McDonald caretakers, and her father had added his own notes. The McDonald family never forgot their role, even after the cottage was gone. So the McDonald's weren't just workers on the farm, nicole said slowly. They were specifically chosen to be guardians of the garden's magic. Her mother nodded, star studying a letter that mentioned the cottage. Residents understand the importance of discretion regarding unusual visitors. She looked up. Nicole, this explains so much about why Angus was so accepting when you appeared. If his family has been helping time travelers for generations, meeting you probably wasn't completely shocking to him. But what happened to the cottage? Nicole asked. Why is it buried now instead of still standing? Her mother gathered the letters into a neat pile, then looked toward the garden where the afternoon light was beginning to fade. That's what we need to find out next. But Nicole, I think we've made an incredible discovery today. We've found proof that our families have been connected for over a century. Nicole fingered the compass in her pocket, which had grown warm again. And now I understand why Angus wasn't surprised to meet me. His family has been expecting someone like me for generations. And that is the end of this part. Good night. Sleep tight, Sa.