← Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
Nicole And The Box In The Barn P.23 ✨ (Bedtime Story Series)
00:22:58
The continuation of our bedtimes series that takes place on Prince Edward Island.
Loading summary
Transcript1 lines
- [00:09]
Nicole
Hello, friends, and welcome to Sleeptight Stories. Nicole and her mother have spent the day trying to figure out more about what they have found. They have done some digging and found a photo. All of this has answered some questions, but also given them a lot more. Nicole and the Box in the barn part 23 after they'd organized all the documents on the kitchen table, Nicole's mother continued sorting through the remaining papers from the attic. There are still a few things I haven't looked at carefully, she said, pulling out a small bundle of items that had been tucked behind the letters. Nicole was examining one of the carved wooden pieces they'd found when her mother made a small sound of surprise. Nicole, look at this. Her mother held up a faded photograph, its edges brown with age. This was tucked between two letters. I almost missed it. Nicole set down the wooden carving and took the photograph carefully. It showed a young woman in old fashioned clothes, a long dark dress with a high collar and small buttons, and a white apron tied around her waist. She was standing in front of what looked like a small cottage, smiling warmly at the camera. Her hair was pulled back neatly and her eyes had a kind, intelligent expression. She looks nice, nicole said, then flipped the photograph over. Written in careful faded handwriting on the back were the words Margaret McDonald, Guardian's House, 1892. Nicole's hands began to shake slightly. Mom, she whispered. This is her. Who? Her mother asked, leaning closer to look at the photograph again. This is the old woman from the market, the one who helped me when I felt overwhelmed by all the people and noise. She looks exactly the same. Her mother took the photograph back, studying the woman's face carefully. Nicole, that's impossible. This photograph is over one hundred and thirty years old. If this woman was alive, then she would be. I know it sounds impossible, nicole interrupted. But mom, it's her. The same face, the same kind eyes. Even the same way. She smiled at me. It's Margaret McDonald's. Her mother was quiet for a long moment, turning the photograph over in her hands. The woman in the market. She spoke to you? She did more than that. She knew I was nervous about being in such a crowded place, and she encouraged me to go into the market. She said the treats in the middle were worth the trip, and she gave me a little push forward when I was hesitating. Nicole paused, remembering. And then when I was at the fountain in the center, she appeared again and said something about treats not always being food. Sometimes they're moments or gifts that stay with you. And she looked exactly like this? Her mother asked, holding up the 1892 photograph. Nicole nodded firmly. Exactly, Mom. I think Margaret McDonald can travel through time just like I can. Maybe that's part of what the Guardian families do. They help people across different times. Her mother set the photograph down carefully on the table next to both journals. If that's true, Nicole, then the magic of this place is even more complex than we realized. Nicole stared at Margaret's photograph, her mind racing as pieces of a much larger puzzle began clicking into place. Mom, I don't think I've been just visiting the past. I think I've been visiting different versions of what could have happened. Her mother looked up from Donald McDonald's journal. What do you mean? Think about it, nicole said, standing up and beginning to pace around the kitchen. When I visit Angus, I see the farm with buildings that don't exist. Here. There's a second barn that's completely missing from our timeline, but in his time it's there and it's solid and real. She gestured toward the window where they could see the foundation they'd uncovered. And this guardian's house. It existed in Margaret's time, and dad wrote that he could still see traces of the foundation, but for us it's completely buried and forgotten. Nicole paused, running her fingers along the edge of the table. What if the garden doesn't just show me one past? What if it shows me different timelines where different choices were made? Her mother set down the journal, giving Nicole her full attention. Different timelines? Yes. In one timeline, the Guardian's house was built and Margaret lived there to help visitors. In another timeline, maybe it was never built or it was destroyed earlier. In Angus timeline, both barns exist. In ours, one is missing. Nicole's excitement grew as the concept became clearer. The garden isn't just a doorway to the past. It's a doorway to possibility. Her mother was quiet for a moment, processing this idea. So when you visit Angus, I'm not changing our past. I'm visiting a different version of what could have been. Or maybe what could still be. Nicole sat back down, feeling both amazed and slightly overwhelmed. And if Margaret can appear in different times, maybe some people can move between these timelines. It's like those superhero movies where people visit different versions of the same world. That would explain why your father wrote about consequences, her mother said slowly. If there are multiple timelines, then choices in one might affect the others. Nicole nodded. And maybe that's why the garden chooses guardians. Someone needs to understand how all these different possibilities connect and help keep them in balance. As the afternoon light began to fade, Nicole remembered the magical book she'd left on the table that morning. She picked it up, running her fingers over the worn leather cover before opening it carefully. Mom, look at this, she said. The book had changed again. New illustrations had appeared on pages that had been blank before, their colours vibrant and detailed as if they'd just been painted. The first new image showed the guardian's house complete and whole, exactly as it must have looked when Margaret lived there. Smoke curled from the chimney, flowers bloomed in window boxes, and a clear path led from the cottage door directly to the garden gate. That's incredible, her mother said, leaning over Nicole's shoulder. It looks just like what the foundation suggested. A perfect little cottage. Nicole turned the page. The next illustration showed their farm, but not as it existed now. This version had both the current barn and a second barn, the missing one she'd noticed in Angus's timeline. Between the two barns stood the guardian's house, creating a triangle of buildings that felt balanced and purposeful. It's showing me what the farm looked like when all the buildings existed together. Nicole realized when the guardian system was working perfectly. The third new illustration was the most mysterious. It showed the garden door, but instead of the familiar wooden frame, it appeared to be made of shimmering light. Around it, faint outlines of other doors were visible, as if the garden held multiple pathways to different times and places. I think the book is trying to show me possibilities, nicole said softly. Not just what was, but what could be. Again, her mother nodded thoughtfully. Maybe that's what guardians do. They help maintain the connections between all these different timelines. Nicole closed the book carefully. Tomorrow, when she visited Angus, she would have so much more to share with him. While her mother continued organizing the historical documents, Nicole's phone buzzed with notifications from her friends back in Montreal. She hadn't checked her messages all day, too caught up in the excitement of their discoveries. Mom, I'm going to video call my friends for a bit, nicole said, heading toward the living room where the WI FI signal was strongest. Good idea, her mother replied. You've been so focused on family history today, it'll be good for you to connect with them. Nicole settled onto the couch and opened the group video call. Within moments, familiar faces filled her screen. Michelle, her best friend with the bright purple streak in her hair, and Sarah and Emma, who were practically inseparable. Nicole. Michelle squeaked. We've been wondering how you're surviving on that island without any civilization. It's not that bad. Nicole laughed, surprised to find herself defending her new home. Actually, it's pretty beautiful Here the beaches are amazing and the sunsets over the water are nice. Look at you sounding all outdoorsy, sarah teased. Remember when you refused to go camping because there was no wi fi? Nicole grinned. I remember. But I guess I've changed a bit since moving here. Tell us everything, Emma demanded. Are there any cute boys? Please tell me there's at least one cute boy. Nicole felt her cheeks warm slightly. Well, I did make a really good friend. His name is Angus, and he's different from the guys at our school. He's nice and knows so much about farming and taking care of animals. Ooh, Nicole. Michelle giggled. It's not like that, nicole protested, but she was smiling. He's just a really good friend. He's helped me understand this place better. As they chatted, Nicole found herself sharing stories about the island's red soil, the way the ocean looked different every day, and even about helping in the garden. She was careful not to mention anything magical, but she talked enthusiastically about discovering family history and exploring the old farm. You sound really happy, michelle observed, her tone more serious now, like genuinely happy. When you first moved, you were so upset. Nicole paused, considering this. I was upset. I didn't want to leave Montreal, or any of you. But I guess I'm more settled. It feels more like home now. We miss you tons, sarah said. But we're really glad you're doing well. After they hung up, Nicole sat quietly for a moment, realizing how true her words had been. She really had found her place on Prince Edward Island. Nicole returned to the kitchen, where her mother was carefully organizing all their discoveries into neat piles. The journals, letters, photographs, and wooden carvings created a timeline of their family's connection to the magical garden. How were your friends? Her mother asked, looking up with a smile. Good. Really good, actually, nicole said, settling back into her chair. They said I sound happier. I think they're right. She picked up Margaret's photograph, studying the kind face again. Mom, I think I need to visit Angus tomorrow. We have so many answers now, but I bet he has questions about his family that we can help with. Her mother nodded thoughtfully. What do you want to tell him? Everything, I think, nicole said, then paused. Well, maybe not everything at once, but I want to show him Margaret's photograph, tell him about the guardian's house, and explained that our families have been working together for generations. That's a lot of information, her mother cautioned gently. Remember, he's living in his own time. He might not understand concepts like multiple timelines. Nicole considered this. You're right. Maybe I should start with the Simpler things. I could tell him that I found records showing his family were paid guardians, that they had a special cottage to live in, and that Margaret was particularly good at helping visitors like me. That sounds like a good approach, her mother agreed. What questions do you want to ask him? I want to know if he's ever heard family stories about helping strange visitors. If Margaret ever told his family anything about people who appeared and disappeared and. Nicole hesitated. I want to know if he's ever noticed anything unusual about the garden or the farm that he couldn't explain. Her mother picked up Nicole's father's journal. Your dad wrote that the McDonald family never forgot their role. Maybe Angus knows more than he's been letting on. Maybe he's been waiting for me to ask the right questions. Nicole realized if his family has been guardians for generations, he might have been taught to wait for visitors to figure things out for themselves. That would make sense, her mother said. Guardians would need to be careful about sharing magical secrets with people who weren't ready to understand them. Nicole picked up Margaret's photograph one more time, wanting to memorize every detail before her visit to Angus tomorrow. But as she held it up to catch the fading sunlight, something in the background caught her eye. Mom, look at this, she said, squinting at the photograph. I think there's someone else in this picture. Her mother moved closer, adjusting her reading glasses. Where? There, behind Margaret, near the cottage door. Nicole pointed to a shadowy figure that was barely visible. It looks like a person, but they're kind of blurry, like they moved when the picture was being taken. Her mother took the photograph and held it directly under the kitchen light. You're right. There is someone there. A young man, I think, based on the height and build. Mom, does that figure look familiar to you? Her mother studied the shadowy form more carefully. The hair color, the way he's standing. Nicole, this person looks remarkably like your description of Ankus. But that's impossible, nicole whispered, even as excitement bubbled up inside her. This photograph is from 1892. Angus couldn't have been alive then. Unless, her mother said slowly, the timelines are more connected than we thought. Or unless the MacDonald family has been experiencing the same kind of time travel that you have. As evening settled over the farmhouse, Nicole helped her mother clear the kitchen table of their discoveries. They carefully placed the journals, letters, and Margaret's photograph in a safe spot on the counter, ready for tomorrow's continued investigation. Nicole was washing the last of their tea mugs when she felt it, a gentle but insistent pull toward the garden. She looked out the kitchen window and froze. Mom, she said quietly, setting down the dish towel, look at the garden. Her mother joined her at the window. In the growing dusk, the garden door was glowing with a soft golden light. It wasn't the harsh brightness of an electric light, but something warmer, more alive. Nicole pulled the compass from her pocket. It was so hot now that she nearly dropped it, and the needle was spinning frantically as if it couldn't decide which direction was most important. Something's different, nicole whispered. The door has never glowed like that before. As they watched, the light grew slightly brighter, then dimmed, then brightened again, almost like someone was trying to signal her. Do you think someone's waiting for you? Her mother asked, her voice filled with concern and wonder. Nicole felt her heart race. Maybe Margaret or maybe Angus needs help with something. She paused, studying the pulsing light. Mom, I think tomorrow's visit is going to be more important than we thought. The compass grew even hotter in her hand, and the garden door's glow seemed to reach toward the house, calling her forward into whatever adventure awaited. And that is the end of this part. Good night. Sleep tight, Sa.