← Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
Sleep Tight Stories - Bedtime Stories for Kids
The Ruins - Part 3 🗝️
00:26:13
The continuing saga of Miles and Emma.
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Hi friends. Our SleepType premium includes 12 classic children's chapter books recorded the way they were meant to be listened to, plus original character stories, extra episodes every month, and no interruptions across all 17 of our shows. It's made by two parents in a small fishing village on Prince Edward Island, a second grade teacher and her husband, a second grader at heart who believe in the power of a good story at bedtime. Premium is a wonderful way to support that and to have a little more of it for your family each week. Find Sleept Premium on Apple Podcasts or at sleeptight.supercast.com. Hello friends, and welcome to Sleep Tight Stories. Miles is packing his bag and getting ready to head out and meet Emma to try and find the next star. Miles speaks to his mom while he packs his bag, and she hears the stars clinking together and asks what that was. He tells her it was just something he found. When Miles and Emma get to the next spot, they are not sure how they are going to reach the next star. The Ruins Part 3. Miles was packing his bag when his mother walked into the kitchen. Where are you off to? She asked. Meeting Emma. We're checking on the tomato plants we put in. His mother glanced at the shoes by the door, still caked with dried mud from last Saturday. Those need cleaning before school starts. I know. Miles stuffed a water bottle into his bag, then wrapped the two bronze stars in an old sock and tucked them in carefully. They clinked together softly. What was that? His mother asked. Just some things I found. Nothing special. His mother studied him over her cup of tea, and for a second Miles thought she'd ask more, but she just smiled. I'm glad you're spending time with Emma. She seems like she will be a good friend. Miles nodded and headed for the door before the questions could start. Outside, he pulled out one of the stars. During the week he'd tested both of them in his room, turning them one click at a time to see what each setting pointed to. Most directions led nowhere interesting, just empty fields or the edge of town. But one setting on the second star had locked north, pulling insistently toward the old town center, and Miles had known that was the next one. He twisted it to that setting now, and it locked into place, pulling steadily. Emma was waiting at the boundary line where New Haven's construction stopped. She had her field notebook and a small pack. Brought some food, she said, in case we're gone a while. They sat on the stone wall and ate first, his mother's bread with cheese, and Emma had packed wild apples. The sun was warm and the town was quiet behind them. You nervous about school starting? Emma asked. Kind of, miles admitted. New school. Don't know anyone except you. You'll be fine, emma said. You're good at figuring things out. Miles wasn't sure that was true, but he didn't say so. Ready? Emma stood up, brushing crumbs off her hands. Miles pulled out the compass north toward the old town center. They started walking, and after a few minutes Emma said, race you to the square. You'll win. Probably. Emma grinned. But you should try anyway. She took off running and Miles followed, his bag bouncing against his back, both of them laughing as the old settlement rose up ahead of them. The clock tower was the tallest thing still standing in the old settlement, rising three stories above everything else. Stone walls solid and intact, with empty window spaces that looked like dark eyes. The clock face was still there on top, frozen. Miles and Emma stood at the base, breathing hard from the race Emma had won, but only by a few steps. Look at the time, emma said, pointing up. The clock hands were stopped at 3:47. I wonder what was happening at 3:47, Emma said. Maybe that's when they left, miles said. Like the exact moment. The compass in his hand pointed straight up. Not toward the tower, but but up through it. The third star was at the top. Miles walked to the entrance. The wooden door was long gone, just an opening into darkness. Stone stairs spiraled upward on the inside wall. He stepped in and looked up. The stairwell went up, up and up, getting darker, and he could see where some of the steps were just missing empty spaces where stone should be. Other steps looked cracked, crumbling at the edges. We have to climb that, miles said. Emma came in behind him, looking up. Some of those steps are gone. Not all of them. We can skip over the missing ones. Miles. Emma's voice was careful. That's really high. And those stairs don't look safe. We got the vault open. Miles says we can do this. The vault was stuck. This is broken. There's a difference. Miles felt frustration rising in his chest. So what? We just give up? The star's up there. I'm not saying give up. I'm saying we need to think about it first. You mean you need to think about it, miles said, the words coming out sharper than he meant. You always think everything's too dangerous. Emma looked at him, surprised. I just trying to keep us from getting hurt. Maybe I can figure this out myself, Miles. But he was already walking around the tower, looking for another way up, his hands shaking and his face Hot. Emma went to check the other side of the tower, looking for a second entrance or maybe a safer stairway. Miles waited until she disappeared around the corner, then stepped back into the stairwell. He could do this. Emma always wanted to be careful, to think things through. But sometimes you just had to try. The first flight was okay. The steps were solid, just dusty. Miles kept one hand on the wall, testing each step before putting his weight on it. The second flight was narrower, darker. He could barely see now. His hand found the next step. It felt solid enough. He stepped up. The stone cracked under his foot. Not broke, just cracked. A sound like ice split. Miles froze, his weight half on that step, half on the one below. His heart hammered in his chest. The tower smelled like old stone and bird droppings. He could hear Emma calling from outside, but her voice sounded far away, muffled. Miles looked down. Too far already. He looked up. Still so far to go. A pigeon burst from one of the window openings above, wings beating loud in the quiet. Miles flinched and his foot slipped an inch. The cracked step groaned. Miles? Emma's voice, closer now, echoing up from below. Miles? Are you in there? He wanted to answer. But if he moved, if he shifted his weight at all. Miles? Emma appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She looked up and saw him. Don't move. Just stay exactly where you are. I can't get down, miles said. Yes, you can, emma said, and she wasn't angry, wasn't saying I told you so. Just calm and sure. One step at a time. I'll talk you through it. The steps cracked. I know. So put your weight on the other foot. Slowly shift back to the step below. Miles did it. The cracked step made a grinding sound. Butt held good, emma said. Now bring your other foot down. Same step, step by step. Emma guided him down. Where to put his feet, when to shift his weight, how to keep one hand on the wall. When he finally reached the bottom, his legs were shaking so hard he had to sit down, right there on the dusty floor. Emma sat down next to him, didn't say anything, just sat there while Miles caught his breath. You okay? Emma asked finally. I'm fine. You don't look fine. Miles didn't answer. His hands were still shaking. Why'd you go up alone? Emma asked. I just wanted to figure something out myself, miles said. You always know what to do. I don't always know, Emma said. I just ask people. Miles looked at her. Ask who? People who know more than me, emma said. Like my mother. Or the people at the ecology program. She paused, thinking. Actually, Mr. Gillis, at the repair shop. The ecology program sent me to him once for information about old buildings. He used to do maintenance work all over the settlement before the migration. He might know about the tower. We can't tell adults about the stars, miles said. We don't have to tell them everything, emma said. Just ask about the tower. See if he knows a safe way up. Miles looked back at the stairwell, at the darkness and the broken steps and the height he couldn't manage alone. Okay, he said quietly. Let's ask. The repair shop was at the edge of New Haven, a low building with a faded sign that just said gillises. Through the window Miles could see shelves crowded with tools and parts and things in various states of being fixed. A bell chimed when they opened the door. The shop smelled like oil and sawdust and metal. An old man stood at the workbench in the back, wearing an apron covered in grease stains. He looked up when they entered. Can I help you? He asked. Mr. Gillis, Emma said. I'm Emma. I came by a few months ago from the ecology program. You helped me with information about the old water systems. Mr. Gillis expression shifted slightly, recognizing her. Ah, yes. The bird survey girl. And who's this? I'm Miles, miles said. We were wondering, do you know about the old clock tower? Mr. Gillis set down the tool he was holding and studied them both carefully. Why? We just want to look at the top, miles said. But the stairs are broken. Mr. Gillis wiped his hands on a rag, walked closer. You're the kids exploring the old settlement. It wasn't a question he already knew. Miles and Emma looked at each other. Small town, Mr. Gillis said. People talk. Two kids spending Saturdays in the ruins. He pulled out a stool and sat down, gestured for them to do the same. Why the clock tower? Miles hesitated. How much could they tell him? We're just interested in the old settlement, emma said carefully. We've been exploring it, learning about what it was like before. Why the clock tower specifically? Mr. Gillis asked. We just want to see the views from the top, miles said. See what the whole settlement looked like from up there. Mr. Gillis was quiet for a moment, looking at them with dark eyes that seemed to see more than Miles wanted to show. Then he said, I was six when we left. I remember the clock tower. Emma leaned forward. You do? We used to play at the base. My mother worked in the building next door. The records office. He smiled slightly at the memory. The day we left, the clock stopped at 3:47. That was when the last family crossed the boundary line The Okamotoes. Why did everyone leave? Emma asked quietly. Mr. Gillis's expression shifted, became more distant. The adults felt at first like the place didn't want us anymore. Not angry, just finished with us. My parents said it was like being a guest who'd stayed too long. Did kids feel it? Miles asked. No. We didn't want to leave at all. Mr. Gillis looked at Miles. You went up those stairs already, didn't you? Got stuck. Miles felt his face get hot. How? Dust on your knees, palms scraped from the wall. Mr. Gillis stood up, walked to a corner of the shop. If you want to get to the top safely, you'll need a rope system. He pulled out a coil of climbing rope, old but well maintained, and a canvas harness kept all my old equipment. Never know when something needs fixing at height. He laid the equipment on the workbench. This'll hold your weight. You'll help us, Miles said. Mr. Gillis looked at him. Someone should. And I haven't been back in 50 years. Emma glanced at Miles, then at the clock on the wall. We have about two hours before we need to be back. Then we should hurry, Mr. Gillis said, gathering the rope and harness, Mr. Gillis set up the rope system with practiced hands, threading it through anchor points in the stone, testing each knot twice. He showed Miles how the harness worked, how it would catch him if his step broke, how to clip and unclip as he climbed, one at a time. Mr. Gillis said, Miles first, since you've already been part way up. Miles stepped into the harness. His hands were sweating, but the rope felt solid, real. I I've got you, Mr. Gillis said, holding the belay rope. Just take it slow. Miles started climbing. Each step creaked under his weight, and the wind whistled through the empty windows, but the harness held him steady. Below, Emma and Mr. Gillis were getting smaller. His arms started to ache, but he kept going, testing each step before trusting it, clipping and unclipping the safety line as he moved higher. At the top, he pulled himself onto a wooden platform. The clockwork mechanism filled most of the space, gears and wheels and metal arms all frozen in place, covered in dust and birds nests. The third star wasn't decoration. It was the counterweight hanging from a chain at the mechanism's center. Miles touched it carefully. Something clicked deep in the works. The gears shifted slightly, trying to turn after decades of stillness, and the star came loose in his hand, warm and clean despite the years. There was a small wooden box bolted to the platform's edge. Inside, wrapped in oiled cloth was another notebook. Miles opened it, read the last entry aloud so Emma and Mr. Gillis could hear from below. We built this to keep time for the settlement when the migration began. This clock told every family when to leave in shifts, in order, so no one was left behind. The last family crossed the boundary at 3:47, and we stopped the clock then as a marker, let the children who returned know we left together. We planned carefully, and we marked the moment. Time matters. What came before still has value. This place is not abandoned. It is waiting. From below, miles heard Mr. Gillis voice, quiet and thick. I helped my father wind that clock when I was small, every Sunday morning. What was it like? Emma asked before a long pause, then busy. Loud. Good. Miles stood on the platform holding the star, looking out through the empty clock face at New Haven in the distance, and the old settlement spread below. The wind moved through the tower, and for a moment, just a moment, he thought he could hear it, the town as it used to be, full of people and voices and life. Then just wind again. Miles, emma called up. You okay? Yeah, miles said, coming down. The descent was easier than the climb. Miles moved slowly, carefully, and Mr. Gillis guided the rope from below. When Miles's feet touched the ground floor, Mr. Gillis unclipped the harness and held out his hand. Miles gave him the star. Mr. Gillis turned it over in his palm, examining the markings. I remember this symbol. My father said it marked the five. Five founding families, one for each. But I never knew what happened to the markers. People assumed they were lost or taken during the migration. He looked at Miles. You found one that was left behind? Miles and Emma exchanged a look but didn't say anything. Come find me when you need help with the next one, Mr. Gillis said, handing the star back. How do you know there's a next one? Miles asked. Mr. Gillis smiled. Because you're not finished asking questions yet. They walked Mr. Gillis back to the boundary line. He moved slowly but steady, and Miles noticed he kept looking back at the clock tower. When they reached the stone wall where New Haven began, Emma pulled out the food they'd never eaten. Want half? She offered Miles. They sat there eating, looking back at the old settlement. The clock tower rose above everything else, its frozen clock face catching the afternoon sun. We should probably check the tomatoes before we go home, emma said. So what you told your mother is actually true. Good idea, miles said. Thanks for not letting me be stupid, Miles said. You weren't stupid, Emma said. Just impatient. Same thing. No, it's not. Miles thought about that. About Mr. Gillis knowing just from looking at his scraped palms, about the harness that kept him safe, about Emma talking him down from the stairs. Maybe not, he said. Miles ran home later than he'd planned, but not too late. His mother was in the kitchen when he came in. Good day? She asked. Yeah. Made it to the top of something. His mother looked up from the vegetable she was cutting. Literally or figuratively? Miles grinned. Both. She smiled, went back to cooking, and didn't ask more questions. Miles went to his room and wrapped all three stars carefully in the old sock, tucked them in his drawer. Three down, two more to find. And maybe, Miles thought, it's okay to ask for help. And that is the end of this part. Good night. Sleep tight. Sa.