Hey and welcome my friend,
This is Lisa Watley and I'll be the voice that tucks you in tonight as you listen to the vintage fairy tale called the Velveteen Rabbit.
So get yourself as comfy as possible,
Snuggling deep into your warm soft bed.
And know that when the story ends,
The music will continue to play and then,
Just like you,
It will simply fade away.
Now if you are tucked in and ready for a wonderful,
Deep,
Peaceful and healing sleep,
Close your eyes and let's get sleepy together.
Sweet dreams my friend.
A long,
Long time ago,
There was a stuffed toy rabbit named Oliver,
And in the beginning,
Oliver was very sumptuous,
Luxuriously soft,
Plump and fluffy,
Just as a bunny should be.
His coat was spotted brown and white,
He had real thread whiskers,
And his ears were lined with soft,
Shiny pink satin.
And Christmas morning,
Oliver sat wedged in the top of Alexander's stocking,
He was holding a candy cane between his little paws.
The effect was ever so charming.
There were other things in the stocking as well,
Nuts and oranges,
A train,
Chocolate almonds and sugar cookies,
A puzzle and a wind-up car,
But Oliver,
He was the best of all.
And for at least two hours,
Alexander absolutely loved him.
But when Alexander's family began to arrive,
There was a lot of laughter and chatter,
Along with the great rustling of tissue paper and unwrapping of gifts.
So with all the excitement of these newly discovered presents,
Oliver,
The beautiful stuffed toy rabbit,
Was completely forgotten.
And for a very long time,
Oliver lived in the toy box,
Or on Alexander's bedroom floor,
And no one thought very much about him because he was naturally shy.
And since he was made only of soft plush cotton and silk,
Some of the more expensive toys well they quite snubbed him.
The electronic toys were very superior.
They looked down upon everyone else.
They were full of modern ideas that pretended and acted as if they were real.
The model,
Though,
Who had lived through two seasons and lost most of his paint,
Caught the tone from them and never missed an opportunity of referring to his rigging in technical terms.
Oliver,
However,
Could not claim to be a model of anything,
For he didn't even know that real rabbits existed.
He thought they were all filled with fluffy stuffing like himself,
And he understood that fluffy stuffing was quite out of date and should never be mentioned in modern circles.
Even Timothy,
The handcrafted wooden lion who was made by disabled soldiers and should have been more open-minded,
He too put on airs and pretended he was connected with the government.
So between them all,
Poor little Oliver,
The stuffed bunny rabbit,
Was made to feel that he was very insignificant,
Ordinary,
And even unworthy.
The only person who was kind to him at all was the leather horse named Victor.
Now Victor had lived longer in the playroom than any of the others.
In fact,
Victor was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and the seams showed under his belly.
Most of all the hairs from his tail had been pulled out long ago to string beaded necklaces.
Oh,
But he was wise,
For he had seen a long succession of electronic toys arrive to strut about with an air of overbearing self-confidence,
And then break apart and pass away.
Victor knew.
He knew they were only toys and would never,
Ever turn into anything else.
The magic in the playroom is very strange,
But wonderful and exciting.
And only those toys that are old,
Wise,
And experienced like Victor,
Only they truly understand.
What is real?
Asked Oliver,
The stuffed bunny one day,
When they were lying side by side in front of the fireplace before Nana came in to tidy up the playroom.
Does it mean having things that buzz inside you with a wind-up handle and pretty lights?
Real isn't how you are made,
Said Victor,
The wise old horse.
It's a thing that happens to you when a child loves you for a long,
Long time.
Just to play with,
But really,
Really loves you.
Then Oliver,
You become real.
Does it hurt?
Asked Oliver.
Sometimes,
Said Victor,
For he was always truthful.
You see,
Oliver,
When you are real,
You don't mind being hurt.
Well does it happen all at once,
Like being wound up,
Yes?
Or bit by bit?
It doesn't happen all at once,
Oliver.
You become.
It takes a long time.
That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily,
Or who have sharp edges,
Or who have to be carefully kept.
Generally,
By the time you are real,
Oliver,
Most of your hair has been loved off,
Your eyes drop out,
And you get loose in the joints and are very shabby looking.
But Oliver,
These things don't matter at all,
Because once you are real,
You cannot be ugly,
Except to the people who don't understand.
I suppose you are real?
Said Oliver,
And then immediately he wished he had not said that,
For he thought that Victor might be sensitive.
But the wise old leather horse only smiled.
Alexander's uncle,
He made me real,
He said.
And that was a great many,
Many years ago.
Let me tell you,
Oliver,
Once you are real,
You can't become unreal again.
It lasts for always and forever.
Oliver sighed.
He thought it would be a long time before this magic called real happened to him.
How and how he longed to become real,
To know what it felt like.
And yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad.
He still wished that he could become real,
But without those uncomfortable things happening to him.
There was a person called Nana who ruled the playroom.
Sometimes she took no notice of all the toys lying about.
But then other times,
For no reason whatsoever,
She went swooping about like a great wind and hustled them away inside the toy box.
Nana called this tidying up.
And let me tell you,
The toys all hated it,
Especially the tin ones.
But Oliver didn't mind it so much,
Because wherever he was thrown,
He always came down and saw.
One evening,
When Alexander was going to bed,
He couldn't find the toy soldier that always slept with him.
Now Nana was in quite a hurry,
And it was way too much trouble for her to hunt down a toy soldier at bedtime.
So she looked about her and quickly noticed that the toy box was open.
And with a quick scoot,
She grabbed Oliver.
Here she said,
Take your old bunny,
He'll do to sleep with you tonight.
And she dragged Oliver out by one ear and put him into Alexander's arms.
That night,
And for many nights after,
Oliver slept in Alexander's bed.
Now at first he found it rather uncomfortable,
Because Alexander hugged him very tight,
And sometimes he rolled over on him.
And then there were other times that Alexander pushed him so far under the pillow that Oliver could barely breathe.
But most of all,
He'd really miss all those long moonlight hours in the playroom,
When the whole house was quiet,
And he talked with Victor.
But soon enough,
Oliver grew to like it,
Because Alexander began to talk to him.
And Alexander made all these nice tunnels for him under the blankets that he said were like burrows.
You know,
Like the ones that real rabbits lived in.
And they played fun games together,
In whispers of course,
So that Nana couldn't hear them.
And when Alexander fell asleep,
Oliver would snuggle down closer under Alexander's warm little chin and dream,
With Alexander's hands wrapped close around him all night long.
And so time went on,
And the little toy bunny was very happy.
So happy that he never noticed how his beautiful soft blush fur was getting shabbier and shabbier.
His tail was coming unsewn,
And all the pink had rubbed off his nose where Alexander had kissed him so often.
Time came,
And they had long days in the garden,
For wherever Alexander went,
Oliver went too.
He had rides in the wheelbarrow,
Picnics on the grass,
And lovely fairy huts built for him under the raspberry canes just behind the flower border.
And once,
When Alexander was called away suddenly to go out for lunch,
Oliver was accidentally left out on the lawn until long after dark.
And then,
Nana came looking for him with a flashlight because Alexander couldn't go to sleep unless Oliver was there.
Now Oliver was soaking wet with dew,
And quite earthy from diving into the burrows that Alexander had made for him in the flowerbed.
Nana grumbled as she rubbed Oliver off with the corner of her shirt.
"'You must have your old bunny,
' she said,
Fancy all that fuss for a toy.
Alexander sat up in bed quickly and stretched out his hands.
"'Gimme my bunny,
' he said.
"'You mustn't say that.
He isn't a toy,
Nana.
He is real.
'" Oh,
And when little Oliver heard that,
He was bursting with happiness,
For he knew now that what Victor had said was true at last.
The playroom magic had finally happened to him.
He was a toy no longer.
He was real.
Alexander himself had said it.
That night,
Oliver was almost too happy to sleep.
So much love stirred in his little cotton heart that it almost burst,
And his little button eyes that had long ago lost their polish.
There came a look of wisdom and beauty,
So much so that even Nana noticed it the next morning when she picked him up.
"'I declare that this old bunny has got quite an annoying expression,
' she said.
Now that was a wonderful summer.
Near the house where they lived was a forest,
And in the long June evenings,
Alexander liked to go there after his dinner to play.
He always took Oliver with him,
And before he wandered off to pick flowers or play amongst the trees,
Alexander always made Oliver a little rabbit nest somewhere among the moss and ferns,
A place where Oliver would be quite cozy,
For Alexander was a very kind-hearted little boy,
And he liked his bunny to be comfortable.
One evening,
While Oliver was lying there alone,
Watching the ants that ran back and forth between his plush paws of the grass,
He saw two strange beings creep out of the tall ferns near him.
They were rabbits like himself,
But quite furry and brand new.
They must have been very,
Very well made,
Because their seams didn't show at all,
And they changed shape in an odd way when they moved.
Like one minute they were long and thin,
And the next minute fat and bunchy,
Instead of always staying the same like he did.
Their feet padded softly on the ground as they moved quite close to him,
Twitching their noses.
Oliver stared hard at them,
Trying to see which side the wind-up button stuck out of them,
For he knew that people who jump generally have something to wind them up,
But he couldn't see it.
They were evidently a new kind of rabbit altogether.
They sat there staring at him,
And little Oliver stared right back.
The whole time their noses were twitching.
Why don't you get up and play with us?
One of them asked.
Oh,
I don't feel like it,
Said Oliver,
For he didn't want to explain that he had no wind-up button inside of him.
Oh,
Said the furry rabbits,
It's as easy as anything.
He gave a big hop sideways and stood on his hind legs.
I don't believe you can,
He said.
I can too,
Said Oliver.
I can jump higher than anything.
However,
He meant when Alexander threw him in the air,
Of course,
But he wasn't going to tell them that.
Really?
Can you hop on your hind legs?
Asked the furry rabbit.
That was a dreadful question,
Because Oliver had no hind legs at all.
The back of him was made of all one piece,
Just like a pincushion.
Sat still in the ferns in hope that the other rabbits wouldn't notice.
Oh no,
I don't want to,
He said again.
But the wild rabbits have very sharp eyes,
And this one stretched out his neck and looked.
Well,
Would you look at that.
He hasn't got any hind legs,
He called out.
I can't see a rabbit without any hind legs,
And he began to laugh.
I have,
Cried the little stuffed bunny.
I have got hind legs.
I am sitting on them.
Well then,
Stretch them out and show me like this,
Said the wild rabbit,
And he began to whirl around and dance until Oliver got quite dizzy watching him.
Well,
I don't like dancing,
Said Oliver.
I'd rather sit still.
But all the while,
Oliver was longing to dance.
A funny,
Nautically feeling ran through him,
And he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump about like these rabbits did.
Then the strange rabbit stopped dancing and came quite close.
He came so close this time that his long whiskers brushed Oliver's ear,
And then he wrinkled his nose suddenly and flattened his ears and jumped backwards.
He doesn't smell right,
He exclaimed.
He isn't a rabbit at all.
He isn't even real.
I am real,
Said Oliver.
I am real.
Alexander said so,
And he nearly began to cry.
Just then there was the sound of footsteps,
And Alexander ran past them.
Then,
Just as fast,
There was a stamp of feet and a flash of white tails,
And the two strange rabbits disappeared.
Come back and play with me,
Called Oliver.
Oh,
Do come back.
I know I am real.
But there was no answer.
Only the little ants running back and forth,
And the fern swaying gently where the two strangers had passed.
Oliver was all alone.
Oh dear,
He thought.
Why did they run away like that?
Why couldn't they stop and talk to me?
For a long time,
Oliver lay very still,
Watching the ferns and hoping that they would come back.
But they never returned.
The sun sank lower.
The little white moths fluttered out.
Alexander came back and carried him home.
Now weeks had passed,
And the little stuffed bunny grew very old and shabby.
But Alexander loved him just as much.
In fact,
Alexander loved him so much that he loved all his whiskers off.
And the pink silk lining in his ears turned gray,
And his brown spots faded.
He even began to lose his shape,
And he barely looked like a rabbit anymore,
Except of course to Alexander.
To him,
He was always beautiful.
And that was all that Oliver cared about.
He didn't mind how he looked to other people,
Because the magic inside the playroom had made him real.
And when you are real,
Shabbiness doesn't matter.
And then one day,
Alexander became ill.
His face grew very red.
He talked in his sleep,
And his little body was so hot that it burned Oliver when he held him close.
Strange people came and went into Alexander's bedroom.
A light stayed on all night,
And through it all,
Oliver the little stuffed bunny lay there,
Hidden from sight,
Under the blankets.
He never moved,
For Oliver was afraid that if they found him,
Someone might take him away.
And he knew that Alexander really,
Really needed him.
It was a long,
Weary time,
Because Alexander was too sick to play,
And Oliver found it rather boring with nothing to do all day.
But he snuggled down patiently,
And he looked forward to the time when Alexander would be well again.
They would go out in the garden amongst the flowers and the butterflies,
And play fun games in the raspberry thicket,
Just like they used to.
Oliver thought of all sorts of wonderful things they could do.
And while Alexander lay half asleep,
Oliver moved up close to the pillow and whispered them all in his ear.
And finally,
The fever went away,
And Alexander got better.
He was able to sit up in bed and look at picture books,
While Oliver cuddled close to his side.
And one day,
They even let him get up and get dressed.
It was a bright,
Sunny morning.
The windows were open,
And they carried Alexander out onto the balcony,
Wrapped in a warm,
Fuzzy shawl.
Oliver lay tangled up in the blankets,
Thinking.
Alexander was going to the beach tomorrow.
Everything was arranged.
These were the doctor's orders.
They talked about it.
Oliver listened while he lay under the blankets,
With just his head poking out.
The room was to be disinfected,
And all the books and toys that Alexander had played with while he laid in bed must be burned.
Yes,
Thought Alexander,
Tomorrow we get to go to the beach.
Because Alexander had often talked of the beach,
Oliver wanted very much to see the big waves coming in,
The seashells and tiny crabs,
And he wanted to build the sandcastles on the shore with Alexander.
Just then,
Nana saw him.
How about this old bunny?
She asked.
That?
Said the doctor.
Why,
It's a mess of scarlet fever germs burning at once.
What nonsense.
Give him a new one.
He mustn't have that anymore.
And so Oliver was put into a bag,
Along with the old picture books and a lot of other garbage,
And carried out to the end of the yard behind the garden shed.
That was a fine place to make a bonfire.
Only the gardener was too busy just then to attend it.
He had the potatoes to dig and the green beans to gather.
But in the morning,
He promised to come quite early and burn it all.
That night,
Alexander slept in a different bedroom,
And he had a new bunny to sleep with him.
And he was beautiful too.
All white plush with real glass eyes.
But Alexander was too excited to care about it,
Because tomorrow he was going to the beach,
And that in itself was such a wonderful thing that he could think of nothing else.
And while Alexander was asleep,
Dreaming of the beach,
Oliver lay among the old picture books in the corner behind the garden shed.
And he felt very lonely.
The bag had been left untied,
And so by wiggling just a little bit,
He was able to get his head through the opening and look out.
He was shivering because he always slept in a nice warm bed.
And of course now his coat had worn so thin and threadbare from Alexander hugging him so much that it no longer provided any protection for him.
Nearby he could see the thicket of raspberry canes growing tall and close.
He had played together with Alexander here so many times.
He thought of all those long sunlit hours in the garden,
How happy they were,
And a great sadness came over him.
He seemed to see all these memories pass before him,
Each more beautiful than the other.
The fairy huts in the flower bed,
The quiet evenings in the forest,
When he lay in the ferns and the little ants ran over his paws,
And the wonderful day when he first knew that he was real.
And then he thought of the leather horse Victor,
So wise and gentle,
And all that he told him.
But really,
Of what use is it to be loved,
Lose one's beauty,
And become real if it all ended like this?
And a tear,
A real tear,
Trickled down Oliver's little shabby velvet nose and fell to the ground.
And just then,
A really strange thing happened.
Where the tear had fallen,
A flower grew out of the ground.
A mysterious,
Magical flower.
Not at all like any that grew in the garden.
Oh no,
It had slender green leaves,
The color of emeralds,
And in the center of the leaves,
A blossom,
Like a golden cup.
It was so beautiful that Oliver stopped crying and just lay there watching it.
And the blossom opened,
And out of it stepped a fairy.
And she was the loveliest fairy in the whole world.
Her dress was of pearl and dewdrops.
There were flowers around her neck and in her hair,
And her face.
It was like the most perfect flower of all.
So sweet and gentle.
She came close to Oliver,
Picked him up in her arms,
And kissed him on his satin nose that was all damp from crying.
Little bunny rabbit,
She said,
Don't you know who I am?
Oliver looked up at her,
And it seemed to him that he had seen her face before,
But he couldn't remember where.
Oliver.
I am the magic fairy from the playroom,
She said.
I take care of all the toys that the children have loved.
When they are old and worn out,
And then children don't need them anymore,
Then I come and I take them away with me.
Oliver,
I turn them into real.
But wasn't I real before?
Asked Oliver.
Oh yes.
Yes,
Oliver,
You were very real to Alexander,
The fairy said.
Because he loved you,
And now,
Oliver,
You will be real to everyone.
And she held Oliver close to her in her arms,
And flew with him into the forest.
It was bright now,
For the moon had risen.
All the forest was beautiful,
And the fronds of the fern shone like frosted silver in the open glaze between the tree trunks.
Wild rabbits danced with their shadows on the velvet grass.
But when they saw the fairy,
They all stopped dancing,
And stared at her.
I've brought you a new friend,
The fairy said.
You must be very kind to him,
And teach him all he needs to know in Rabbitland.
For he is going to live with you forever and ever.
And then she kissed Oliver again and put him down on the grass.
Run and play little rabbits,
She said.
But Oliver sat quite still for a moment,
And never moved.
Because when he saw all the wild rabbits dancing around him,
He suddenly remembered about his hind legs.
And he didn't want them to see that he was made all in one piece.
But Oliver didn't know that when the fairy kissed him that last time,
She had changed him forever.
He might have sat there a long time,
Too shy to move.
If just then something hadn't tickled his nose,
And before he even thought about what he was doing,
He lifted his hind toe to scratch it.
And wow!
Just then,
Oliver discovered that he actually had hind legs.
And instead of dingy,
Worn-out plush fabric,
He now had soft and shiny brown fur.
His ears twitched all by themselves,
And his whiskers were so long that they brushed the grass.
He was so excited that he gave one leap,
And the joy of using his hind legs was so great that he went springing about the velvet grass on them,
Jumping sideways and whirling around just as the others did.
He was so excited that when he finally stopped dancing around to look for the fairy,
She was gone.
Oliver was a real rabbit at last,
At home with all the other rabbits.
Autumn passed and winter,
Too.
Then in the spring,
When the days grew warm and sunny,
Alexander went out to play in the forest behind the house once again.
And while he was playing,
He noticed that two rabbits crept out of the ferns and looked at him.
One of them was brown all over,
But the other one?
He had strange markings under his fur,
As though long ago,
Perhaps his fur was spotted with patches of white and brown.
There was something very familiar about his little soft nose and his round black eyes.
And Alexander thought to himself,
Wow,
That rabbit right there?
He looks just like my old bunny,
Oliver,
That was lost when I had scarlet fever.
Oh,
How I loved him.
Alexander never did find out that he really was his own bunny,
Oliver,
Who had come back to look at the child who had first loved him and helped him to be real.
Thank you for joining me for this bedtime story.
Many blessings and sweet dreams,
My friend.
And until we meet again,
With peace and love,
From my world to yours,
Namaste.
Copyright © 2019 Mooji Media Ltd.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this recording may be reproduced without Mooji Media Ltd.
's express consent.
No part of this recording may be reproduced without Mooji Media Ltd.
's express consent.
No part of this record may be reproduced without Mooji Media Ltd.
's express consent.
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