The Storm And The Storyteller: A Bedtime Story

Hello dear ones and welcome to today's bedtime story a story that i wrote called the storm and the storyteller so making yourselves comfortable wherever you are and whatever you were doing now is the time for you to take some moments to relax and to rest the wind howled through the towering pines rattling the windows of the little cottage in the woods rain lashed against the roof in frantic bursts and every so often thunder rumbled across the sky shaking the wooden beams overhead inside nestled safely in the glow of the fire lily sat curled up on a thick woven rug wrapped in the softest patchwork quilt the warmth of the fire painted golden flickers across the stone walls pushing back the darkness that gathered in the corners of the room across from her in her favorite rocking chair sat grandma ren her silver hair catching the candlelight like moonbeams on a still lake she hummed softly as she worked on her knitting her fingers moving with practiced ease grandma lily said hugging her knees to her chest tell me a ghost story grandma ren's eyes twinkled as she set down her knitting a ghost story is it she leaned forward the light and shadows dancing across her lined face on a night like this when the wind sings through the trees and the spirits walk between raindrops lily nodded eagerly grandma sighed the sound warm and knowing very well then she took a deep breath and when she spoke again her voice had changed lower now secretive as though she was sharing something that should not be spoken of too loudly long ago in a cottage much like this one deep in these very woods there lived a girl named elisa she was a curious child always wondering where she shouldn't always eager for adventure but she was warned never ever stray too far at dusk for that was when they woke lily frowned pulling the quilt higher they me grandma ren nodded the hollow ones she whispered lily shivered who are the hollow ones no one truly knows grandma said her rocking chair creaking softly they are not quite shadows not quite ghosts they move between the trees whispering secrets to the wind slipping between the cracks of the world where no eyes can see them and they do not like to be followed a gust of wind slammed against the cottage making the shutters tremble the fire flickered casting long thin shadows along the warm lily licked her lips what happened to elisa grandma ren folded her hands in her lap and continued one evening elisa saw something strange through her bedroom window a light small golden flickering dancing just beyond the tree line it wasn't the glow of a lantern nor the steady shine of the moon no this was different teasing her forward like a firefly just out of reach lily leaned forward her breath shallow she knew she should not follow it grandma murmured but curiosity is a powerful thing so slipping on her boots she crept outside past the garden past the stone path and into the trees the deeper she went the softer the world around her became the wind no longer howled the trees no longer creaked even her own footsteps made no sound a log in the fire crackled sending up a shower of sparks lily jumped in the light led her deeper and deeper always just ahead always just beyond reach and then she realized something lily could barely breathe what grandma ren's voice dropped to the faintest whisper the light wasn't leading her home it was leading her somewhere else lily's heart pounded against her ribs elisa turned to go back grandma continued but the path behind her had disappeared the trees loomed taller the air felt colder and then for the first time she heard them lily swallowed the hollow ones grandma ren nodded a soft rustling in the leaves a whisper too low to understand shapes moving between the trees just out of sight lily's fingers dug into the quilt did she run she tried grandma said but the deeper she ran into the woods the darker everything became the light her only guide was gone and then she felt it lily's skin prickled felt what a cold breath on the back of her neck a sudden tap tap tap came from the window lily gasped whipping around but there was nothing there only the storm the wind pressing wet branches against the glass her heart flooded slowly she turned back to grandma who was watching her with a knowing smile what happened to elisa lily asked grandma rocked in her chair her needles clicking softly no one knows for certain dear some say she never returned others say she walks the woods when the storms rage searching for her way home and then there are those who believe she did find her way back but she was never quite the same afterward lily frowned what do you mean grandma ren's eyes twinkled in the firelight sometimes on nights like this when the rain pounds and the wind howls children wait to find strange footprints outside their windows and if they listen very closely they might hear a whisper in the wind soft distant calling their name the fire crackled the only sound in the hush that followed out lily sat very still her gaze flickering to the window again that's not real she said though her voice wavered grandma ren only smiled gathering up her knitting once more come on time for bed little one lily hesitated maybe just one more story grandma's smile widened as she reached for another log to feed the fire oh very well but this one is about the ghost who only appears when children ask for one more story outside the storm reached on but inside the little cottage was warm and safe the fire flickered the rocking chair creaked and the storyteller spun another tale her voice weaving through the night like the wind through the trees and somewhere just beyond the light of the cottage something listened