Sleep Time Story: The Girl Who Thanked The Trees

Welcome,

Dreamers,

To a world where anything is possible.

I'm Lisa,

And I'll be the voice tucking you in this evening.

Cozy up now,

My dear,

And take my hand as we tiptoe together under starlit canopies alive with dazzling gifts of thanks.

In our story,

The Girl Who Thanked the Trees.

The autumn sunset spilled streaks of amber and ruby through the forest canopy,

The last light of day shimmering like forgotten gold between the trees.

As the woods prepared for slumber,

An evening peace fell across the land.

Our young heroine,

Violet,

Wandered along a winding dirt path blanketed in fallen leaves of citrine,

Cinnamon,

And flame.

She breathed deeply,

Filling her lungs with the earthy scent of the forest.

As she walked,

The melodic chorus of birds singing in the background gently quieted as if the forest itself let out a sleepy sigh.

Violet reached out,

Brushing her fingers across the weathered bark of the elder trees as she passed by.

She felt the rough contours,

Each crevice and curve,

Telling a story.

These standing giants had experienced so much,

Providing wisdom to all who knew enough to listen.

Up ahead,

Violet spotted her most beloved friend among the trees,

A towering oak festooned in leaves of vivid garnet.

She quickened her pace,

Coming to rest beneath the sturdy umbrella of its branches.

Gazing upward,

She mentally traced the complex patterns the creeping vines made as they wove through the canopy.

Violet snuggled against the oak's trunk,

Wrapping herself in memories.

Picnics with friends under dappled sunlight,

Naps nestled on thick roots.

So much joy and shelter were given so freely year after year by the generous trees.

Quiet temporarily came over the forest as the last fragile rays of sun slipped into velvet night.

Violet took a long,

Peaceful breath.

The woods seemed to exhale in return as darkness gently fell around her.

Her eyes grew heavy as she curled beneath her dear oak.

She felt so blissfully safe and loved in its presence.

Finally,

She stopped fighting sleep's sweet embrace.

The Tiny Door A light breeze stirred Violet from her slumber.

As she blinked awake,

The forest was cast in a magic silvery glow from the moon above.

She pressed her hands against the oak's trunk to stand up when she noticed something curious.

A tiny door shone with an otherworldly light at the base of the great tree.

As Violet crouched down to peer closely at the mysterious discovery,

She noticed the tiny door set into the tree's surface was no bigger than her hand.

An ornate border of woven vines and delicately carved flowers framed the entrance,

Seemingly growing right out of the wood.

The nature motifs reminded Violet this was no ordinary door.

It had been uniquely created for this ancient oak.

Violet's imagination swirled.

What could be behind such a door?

As if compelled by some invisible force,

She reached out and turned the tiny leaf-shaped handle.

The door swung open noiselessly.

From within emanated the sound of soft lullaby music,

Twinkling like distant chimes.

A warm glow spilled out from the opening,

Casting a spotlight on Violet's curious face.

She leaned closer,

Compelled to discover the source of this magic.

The music seemed to wrap around her like a comforting blanket.

Its hypnotic melody lured her closer.

She knew she must find where this music was coming from.

As Violet peered into the warm glow,

She felt herself suddenly shrinking,

Becoming tiny enough to fit through the miniature doorway.

Holding her breath in awe,

She stepped over the threshold and into the mysterious opening,

Ready to discover its secrets.

Entering the tree,

As Violet stepped through the doorway,

The interior of the oak tree seemed to stretch and expand around her.

She found herself standing at the top of an elegant winding staircase that spiraled down into the shadowy depths of the great tree.

Violet ran her hand along the smooth wooden rail,

Looking up to see the night sky twinkling through the distant doorway far above.

The tree's main trunk surrounded the staircase,

Its inner rings creating a swirling pattern in the wood that gave Violet a sense of the oak's great age and wisdom.

Intricate carvings of leaves,

Branches,

And forest creatures adorned the walls,

Illuminated by the soft glow of floating white orbs that seemed to beckon Violet downward.

Violet descended the steps carefully,

Listening to the lilting melody growing louder as she walked deeper into the tree's heart.

The scent of cedar and pine enveloped her,

Mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest at night.

As she spiraled lower down the trunk,

She felt cradled and protected within its sturdy core.

Glimpses of natural wonders revealed themselves through small knots in the wood,

A babbling brook shining in the moonlight,

Leaves glittering with dewdrops,

Fireflies dancing in a moonlit clearing.

The tree seemed to hold the magic of the forest within itself.

Violet finally arrived at the base of the long,

Winding staircase in a small,

Round room aglow with vibrant,

Pulsating light.

The source was not fire,

But something more ethereal and colored,

Like the mystical hues of the northern lights.

The soothing music filled the space,

At once both ancient and familiar.

Its echoing notes sounded like a lullaby sung in an old forest language used by the trees themselves.

Violet turned slowly,

Taking in every detail surrounding her.

Intricate woven tapestries depicting woodland scenes adorned the walls.

Shelves carved from gnarled roots held aged scrolls and curious instruments carved from bone and stone.

She knew in her heart that she had found something extraordinary within the wise old oak,

The heart of the forest.

As Violet gazed around the glowing chamber,

A voice suddenly spoke.

Welcome,

Child.

She turned to see an ancient tree spirit emerge behind a towering shelf of leather-bound books and curious artifacts.

His face and beard were carved of weathered oak bark,

Complexion lined with ages of wisdom.

He wore robes made from soft moss and leaves that rustled gently as he moved.

The spirit smiled at Violet with kindly eyes that swirled in hues of amber,

Pine,

And mahogany,

Echoing the rings of the venerable oak.

Do not be afraid,

He said.

I am the spirit charged with guarding this place through the ages.

This is the heart of the forest,

Where the magic of all trees flows through and is nourished.

His expression turned solemn,

But lately the light has been fading.

Violet followed the spirit's gaze around the chamber.

The pulsating glow she had witnessed earlier was now dimmer.

The music slowed to a worrying dirge.

She instinctively reached out and touched the spirit's hand in comfort.

Under his skin of weathered bark,

She could feel the pulsing energy of the forest itself.

The spirit clasped her hand warmly.

You have been led here for a purpose,

Violet.

Your heart holds deep gratitude,

The only force that can restore power to this place.

You must use your gift.

Violet looked around the room with new understanding.

Images of moss-covered stone engraved with ancient runes and artifacts that glimmered with mystic power adorned the shelves.

If this truly was the heart of the forest,

She knew she must try to revive its fading magic.

Determination stirred within Violet as she turned back to the spirit.

Tell me what I must do,

Wise one,

She said with resolve.

Restoring Magic.

The ancient oak spirit smiled and his whiskery beard curled.

Come with me,

He replied,

Leading her toward the center of the glowing chamber.

The ancient spirit led Violet to the chamber's center,

Where an enormous glowing loom stood.

It was taller than the great oak tree itself,

With threads of shimmering light cascading down like a luminous waterfall.

This is the weaver's loom,

Explained the spirit.

Since the beginning of the forest,

It has harnessed the energy of trees through their interconnected roots.

The magic you see here sustains all life among the woods.

Violet walked slowly around the magnificent loom,

Watching the hypnotic dance of the glowing threads.

She reached out and touched a strand.

It felt at once solid and ethereal.

When gratitude flows through the forest,

The loom remains bright,

Said the spirit.

But has been many seasons since travelers have paused to give thanks for the gifts of the trees.

The light is nearly gone.

Violet gazed at the faded glow surrounding the loom.

She thought of the beauty that would be lost if the forest's magic perished.

The trees had given her shade,

Fresh air,

And inspiration since she was a child.

She knew then what she must do.

I am ready,

She said with quiet conviction.

The spirit nodded and waved his hand.

An ornate chair carved from elm root appeared before the loom.

You must sit and weave the words in your heart into the loom,

He instructed.

Only gratitude freely given can reignite its light.

Weaving words.

Violet sat and looked up at the towering web of threads and began weaving her most sincere words of gratitude into the giant glowing loom.

She started slowly,

Carefully selecting which shimmering threads to intertwine with her heartfelt sentiments.

Her first woven phrases gave thanks for the tree's ancient beauty and wisdom.

She expressed appreciation for how the forest gracefully renewed itself each year,

Selflessly giving its abundance to all living things.

Her fingers moved deftly as she translated these thoughts into the enchanted language of the loom.

As Violet settled into a soothing rhythm,

Her expressions of gratitude grew more personal.

She wove thanks for the solace found under the protective branches on rainy days and stormy nights.

She thanked the sturdy limbs that made perfect perches for reading adventures high up in the boughs.

Violet's eyes filled with nostalgic tears as she wove her profound gratitude for the wise old tree who stood sentinel outside her bedroom window,

Keeping watch as she slept.

She thanked the saplings she had planted with her grandmother as a young girl,

Now grown tall and strong.

With each line of shimmering thread,

The loom began to brighten in response.

Violet gave thanks for the pure,

Sweet oxygen the leaves produced with each breath.

She wove appreciation for the lullaby of the wind whispering through the rustling boughs on restless nights.

As a glowing mist rose around her,

Violet's woven tapestry of gratitude reflected all of the gifts the forest had given her throughout her short life.

The ancient spirit watched approvingly from the shadows as the room filled with her splendid light.

Violet sat back with a long sigh when the last silken thread was interwoven.

The loom thrummed with magic once more,

Its bright music returning.

She had saved the heart of the forest with sincere,

Woven gratitude.

Finishing the task,

As the last notes of the loom's song faded,

Violet became aware of the bright light shining around her.

She raised her hands and discovered a wreath of beautiful wildflowers and oak leaves had been placed upon her head.

The ancient tree spirit approached with a smile.

You have woven well,

Child.

The forest thanks you.

He waved his hand and a small wooden chest engraved with four scenes floated toward Violet.

Within this chest you will find seeds from the oldest and wisest trees,

He explained.

They will grow strong with the magic you have restored.

Violet accepted the gift graciously.

As she looked closer,

She noticed delicate spheres of light drift up from the glowing loom and absorb into the chest.

It seemed to thrum with renewed life.

The spirit placed an aged hand on her shoulder.

When you wake,

Plant these seeds and nourish the seedlings with care,

Gratitude,

And wisdom as you have done here.

They will become the future guardians of the woods.

Violet nodded,

Her heart swelling with purpose.

She believed she would awaken soon under her beloved oak.

Thank you for all you have taught me,

She said earnestly to the spirit.

He simply bowed his head,

Eyes twinkling.

Around her,

The chamber began to blur and fade as she drifted into a tranquil sleep.

Deep gratitude.

Hours later,

Violet's eyes fluttered open to see dawn's first light filtering through the oak branches.

She sat up carefully,

Feeling something clutched against her chest.

Looking down,

She discovered the carved wooden chest nestled in her arms,

Just as real as the leafy wreath still adorning her head.

The dream had been real.

Violet smiled and pressed her hands to the oak's wise trunk.

She would fulfill her promise and nurture the seeds into a new generation of ancient trees.

But first,

She had two more words to say.

Clutching the wooden chest of seeds,

Violet turned and began the journey back as the forest awoke around her.

Birdsong and mist wove between the trees while the oak stood silent and strong behind her.

When she arrived home,

Violet carefully placed the chest on her windowsill and selected the first seed.

It was acorn-shaped,

But much larger and emanating a subtle glow.

She planted it in a pot with rich soil and whispered words of care and thanks as she covered its shell with earth.

Over the next weeks,

Violet planted the rest of the seeds from her dream journey.

Some sprouted into tiny saplings overnight,

While others took more time and care to push through the soil.

But soon,

Her room was a nursery of enchanted trees glowing with magic.

As she nurtured them,

Violet made time daily to visit her beloved oak.

She honored her promise by expressing genuine gratitude for all it provided.

Shade on sunny days,

Fragrant wood for her fireplace,

And happy memories of childhood.

As she did,

The oak seemed to stand taller.

On the first day of winter,

Violet gathered the saplings and returned to the forest.

She found a moonlit clearing where the young trees would have space to reach toward the sun as they grew.

One by one,

She planted and thanked them for keeping the forest alive.

Many seasons passed and the saplings matured into a grove of wise old trees with Violet's visits.

Sitting beneath her oak,

She looked around and smiled at the forest she helped flourish.

Thank you,

She whispered.

And as she looked around,

The leaves of the great oak rustled softly in appreciation.

The end.

That's all for this evening,

Dear one.

Sweet dreams.