Welcome to Sleepy Shorts Short Stories for Bedtime. This podcast is brought to you by I have a story to tell you that will help take your mind off all of your worries and cares. Just listen and relax, then drift peacefully into sleep. It's time to turn off the lights and snuggle into your bed. Find your most comfortable position there. Now take a few seconds to relax your mind. It's time to sleep. Time to rest and rejuvenate our minds
and bodies. In order to prepare our bodies for sleep, let's do a couple of muscle relaxation and breathing exercises. I want you to inhale for account of three, and while doing so, tighten all of your muscles and inhale one two, three, Hold your breath, keep your muscles tense. Now exhale to account of six. While you relax all of your muscles one two, three, four, five six, feel your body sinking deeper into your
bed. Let's do this one more time. Take a deep three second breath as you tighten your muscles, hold it now, relax and exhale to account of six. Let your body sink even deeper into your bed. Now it's time for your sleepy short Let me help you fall asleep. A cold winter night. Outside, the wind is blowing through the trees, causing some of the icicles to fall from the edge of the cabin roof. The wind is not blowing too hard, just enough to be heard over the crackling fire in
the fireplace. The light in the cabin is provided by the fireplace and the five candles nestled inside the antler chandelier in the center of the room. The fire provides all the warmth needed with its crackling and popping as the flames turn the wood to act. Our little cabin sits about halfway up the slope of a small mountain. We bought it five years ago and try to find every possible reason to spend weekends here in the summer. It looks out over a
green landscape as far as you can see. There is a lake at the bottom of the mountain, and it reflects the sun's warm rays at sunset. Sitting on the porch during that season is a wonderful time. The birds chirp and flit about, playing high in the branches of the forest. Occasionally there will be a few deer that wander through the space, and we sit and watch them quietly, trying not to spook them. We want them to feel
comfortable around us. During the fall season, the mountain explodes with color as the trees begin to turn. The reds, yellows, and oranges signal the approaching winter. We'll see fewer deer at this time, because they have already started moving lower down the mountain. The cabin is located right under a flyway, so we witnessed hundreds of geese and ducks heading south for the winter. Their beautiful V shaped formations stretched out for miles across the sky while the sun
shone. From our vantage point, we were able to watch them drop down to the lake at the end of the day, looking to get a good night's rest before continuing on their journey. The next morning, thousands of other birds headed south that have no use for formation flying. Just give them a good flock of friends to fly with, and they are as happy as can
be. I sometimes think of geese and ducks as military flyers turning up their bills at the flock, flyers who don't show the discipline and training necessary for formation flying. For birds who head south, whether it be within a formation or a flock. It seems like it must be more enjoyable when traveling with friends and family. Now it's winter, the ground is covered in snow. The deer left the area long ago, and the high flying birds won't be
seen again for three months when they once again head the other direction. The only birds we see now are the hardy ones, some of which are also the most colorful. Cardinals and blue jays stick around a little. Snow never scared them, and when they find the tins we put out with nuts and seeds, they are quite happy to visit with these strange animals who walk around on two legs. In the distance, I can hear the hoot of the great gray owl. There is only one living on the mountain that we know
of, and he is the king of the night. It is imagined that his hoot strikes fear into the souls of every small animal and rodent in the area. We see him occasionally, and he does not appear to be starving. The cabin is quiet this evening. I am alone, as my better half hasn't arrived yet. I came up this afternoon, not wanting to drive up the muddy and snowy road in the dark but that's okay. It's given me some time with my favorite author. There's something magical about reading an old
book near a warm fireplace by the light of the candles above. Of course, the cabin has electricity at its working just fine, but this felt like the perfect night to go old school and skip the modern conveniences. As I turn each page of the book, I catch the faint smell of the aged yellowing paper. I found this book in a used bookstore a few days ago, and I knew it would be a fine companion on this weekend trip. Pulling the blanket a little tighter around my shoulders, I sink a bit deeper
into the overstuffed chair and into the story. The soft glow of candle flame dances across the page as I absorbed the words written so long ago by an author who passed from this world before my mother was even born. I've heard it said that this is one of the best ways to be remembered after leaving this world. If your words carry any meaning for those who read them,
you will be remembered long after you cease to write them. Your words have the power to reach out across the vast distance of time and touch many hearts and souls. Such is the case with this book. I now read. The words flowing before my eyes, sometimes bring tears, at times a smile or even a quiet laugh. With the turn of each page, a new insight into the mind of an author long gone forms in my mind. What was her daily life like? Did she live in a small, one room
cabin such as this? From her words, it is quite possible that she did. As I read on, the heaviness of my eyelids comes upon me quickly and quietly. I only make it through another twenty pages. When my eyes close and my head sinks back against the headrest of the recliner. I can hear soft music in my head as I begin to dream of the summer we first bought this cabin. I dream of the time I spent walking through
the flowers in the meadow just down the hill. The bees and the butterflies darted out of the way as I stepped easily through the tall grass, and after I had passed, they went back to whatever task they'd been doing. I felt a small tinge of guilt about causing them to have to pause their labors so I could pass. They never seemed to mind, though, The sun shone brightly that day, with just a few wispy clouds drifting across the sky. I heard a small shriek and looked up to see a red tailed
hawk patrolling the skies. Like the owl, this bird kept the rodent population in check with his razor sharp vision. He wheeled across the sky, flying further and further down the mountain toward the lake. Hunting is probably much better along the water, I could feel the soft breeze sweep across the meadow as the scent of the wild flowers reached me. The lupins and the cone flowers
were in competition with their vibrant violets, oranges, and rads. I could feel the tall grass caressing me, blown by the breeze as it clung to my legs. It had just rained, so the moist ground socked at my boots as I walked along. At the edge of the meadow, the remnants of a fallen tree beckoned to me, so I sat down with a deep breath. I was able to detect the scent of pine in the air. It brought back memories of family vacations to the mountains when I was a little
girl. My mom and sister never really cared for the outdoors, but I couldn't get enough of it. We'd stay in a cabin much like this one, and whenever Daddy asked who wanted to go for a hike, I was always the first to jump up. It was one of the few times I had him all to myself. Back to the present and in and out of dreams. I keep my eyes closed, but I begin to hear a sound
that is unfamiliar. It sounds like a large animal clumping through the meadow, and I expect to open my eyes and see a large deer moving through, but there is nothing. I look across the meadow and see nothing, but the sound is still there. Just as I am about to stand up and get a better look, I feel something brush across my forehead. I reach up to wipe it away. It feels like a bug of some sort as
landed at my hairline and is walking down my face. I feel nothing as I touch my face, but there it is again, this time brushing between my brows. I swipe again with my hand, and this time my fingers make contact with something quite solid, and it jolts me awake. I open my sleepy eyes just as my sweetie kisses the tip of my nose. Did I wake you? Oh, it's you, I say, with a sleepy smile. You can wake me any time you want. Good Night, Sa s BO