Bedtime Story: The Tale Of The Enchanted Lantern

Welcome,

Weary wanderers,

To a realm of enchantment.

Tonight we'll embark on a journey through the veil of imagination.

Close your eyes,

Let the external world fade away,

And watch as your internal world lights up.

Here we're in a place where all is well,

And magic reigns supreme.

And so,

Now,

I'd like you to get comfortable,

So we can begin our adventure together.

Ah,

Bedtime story.

Exactly how you get comfortable is up to you.

A bed,

A chair,

Wherever it may be.

Find your space now.

Get settled.

And let me tell you a story,

Called The Enchanted Lantern.

We begin our story in a forgotten land,

Bathed in a beautiful,

Shimmering moonlight.

Here stands a humble cottage,

Nestled amongst a grove of ancient willows.

Within this cosy abode lives a kind old man,

His hair as silver as the moonbeams that cross his face.

He's lived in this cottage as long as anyone can remember,

And this wise old sage has a secret.

A secret to unlocking the magic that lays dormant in the hearts of every adult.

Tonight,

He waits by his window,

Doing his dishes,

Looking out,

Expecting someone.

You'd never think it,

Looking at this humble old man doing his dishes.

But,

Legend has it that a lantern of extraordinary power resides within the walls of this cottage.

The lantern,

So they say,

Can illuminate the path to the magic realms,

The unseen realms.

And those who hear this legend,

Sometimes come to visit the old man,

In the hopes of gazing upon the lantern.

Some are granted this privilege,

Whereas others are turned away,

Depending on the purity of their intentions.

And so,

This is where our story finds us now.

A traveller,

Arriving at the cottage,

In the middle of the night,

On a pilgrimage of sorts.

The traveller knocks on the door of the cottage,

Drawn in by the legend of the lantern,

And a deep,

Ineffable longing.

A longing that weighs heavy on her heart.

The same longing that set her on this journey in the first place.

Somehow,

She knows,

Upon setting her gaze on the cottage,

That this is the place she'd been searching for.

And likewise,

That this was the place that had been searching for her.

No map had led her here,

Just the compass of her heart.

So,

The traveller waits at the door,

Her heart fluttering with anticipation.

And,

For a moment,

No one comes.

But then,

All of a sudden,

The door swings open and there stands the old man,

His eyes filled with the wisdom and kindness of an age.

He welcomes her inside and she steps through,

Marvelling at the cottage's interior.

What a sight,

She thinks,

Beautifully decorated,

A homely vibe,

A crackling fireplace in the corner.

And it turns out that the old man has a friend,

A helper of sorts.

He looks like a gnome and he's busy typing away as an old-fashioned typewriter.

The old man is kind and hospitable.

He motions towards a seat and the traveller plonks herself down on it.

The gnome at the typewriter stops,

Looking over at the old man.

Shall I carry on?

He asks.

Of course,

The old man replies.

Don't mind my friend,

He's merely here to document.

He adds,

Glancing back at the traveller.

Seated by the warmth of a crackling fire,

With the sound of a typewriter in the background,

The traveller now listens as the old man begins to weave a tapestry of words.

It's a story,

Much like this one I'm telling you now.

A tale that transports them both beyond the realm of mundane reality.

His voice,

Like a lullaby from a distant age,

Makes its way softly into the traveller's heart,

Soothing and calming every inch of her weary being.

At certain beats of the story,

He pauses for a moment,

Letting the traveller soak in the details,

And letting the lush sounds of the fireplace prevail.

As the story unfolds,

The traveller's mind becomes a canvas for the old man's words,

Painting vivid landscapes of vibrant colours and ethereal creatures.

Together,

They could almost smell the sweet fragrance of blooming wildflowers,

And hear the sounds of the sweet chirping birds.

Wow,

The old man has quite the way with words,

The traveller thinks,

Engrossed by his story.

She gives herself over to him,

Opening her eyes wide and nodding along.

The old man's words dance like poetry in the air,

And are soaked in like a sponge by the traveller.

And so,

Through the magic of words alone,

The old man brings the traveller on a journey through a realm untouched by time.

There,

They experience so much together.

They encounter wise fairies with shimmering wings who guide them through enchanted meadows.

They witness the dance of fireflies and their gentle glow,

Illuminating the night sky like a thousand tiny stars.

And,

All the while,

The sound of cicadas punctuate the scene.

I never want this story to end,

The traveller thinks,

Leaning in even further to the old man,

Hanging on his every word.

The old man's story begins to wind down now.

The traveller nods and smiles wide,

Realising that all of her worries have drifted away,

Disappearing into the night.

The mysteries of the universe lay dormant in her,

She thinks.

They always have,

Just waiting patiently to be awakened.

She smiles wider still,

And the old man smiles back,

Rocking in his creaking wooden chair.

And so,

The old man slaps his knee,

Happy with the story he's told.

But it doesn't seem as if the story has truly ended there.

There's something more,

The traveller suspects.

And she's right.

The old man takes her by the hand and leads her into a back room,

Where the enchanted lantern is kept.

The gnome stops typing and follows.

Back here,

In this dusty old room,

She gets the sense that it's all been leading up to this moment,

And that somehow she'd passed the old man's test.

Here's the enchanted lantern,

He says,

Opening an ornate cabinet and gesturing inside.

Wow,

The traveller thinks,

Dumbstruck.

There it is.

She never thought this day would come.

The legend itself is before her.

And the old man reaches in to light it.

Behold,

The enchanted lantern,

With its ethereal glow.

It captivates all who lay their eyes upon it.

Beautifully intricate,

And crafted with otherworldly precision.

The soft,

Enchanting glow casts an aura over both the old man,

His helper gnome,

And the traveller,

Creating shadows that seem to whisper secrets of forgotten realms.

And,

As they all gaze upon it,

It begins to give off an otherworldly hum.

As the night wears on,

The traveller bids the old man farewell.

At the door,

He passes her the lantern.

This is for you,

He says,

To light up the night path.

She's humbled by his generosity and goes to refuse it,

But the old man insists.

No,

No,

It's yours now,

He says.

She looks at the lantern's light,

And,

As she does,

An insight comes to her.

This is not simply a source of light,

She thinks,

But a vessel of hope and inspiration.

A reminder that the power of imagination is always at her fingertips.

The old man and the traveller embrace,

And,

As a final goodbye,

The gnome appears holding a rolled-up manuscript.

I documented everything,

He says,

Handing it to her.

The story of tonight will live on.

She beams at them both,

Nods in gratitude,

Then leaves,

Returning to her trek through the hinterlands,

The manuscript in her bag and the lantern in hand,

Lighting her path.

Now,

Dear wanderers,

As you embark on your own adventures under the moon's tender gaze,

Remember the tale of the enchanted lantern.

Carry it with you as a beacon,

Igniting the flames of your imagination and guiding you through the darkest of nights.

The enchanted lantern is always with you.

And so I now bid you farewell.

May your dreams tonight be filled with whispers of the distant realms,

And your heart be forever alive with enchantment.

Until we meet again then,

Weary wanderer,

Sleep well,

For the dream realms are calling you now,

Reaching out with their gentle touch.

Good night to you,

And sweet dreams.