Speaker 1: Max, Look, the attic is quiet, but the jar isn't sleeping.
It's starting to hum just a little. Do you see
that soft glow near the glass. It's not rushing, it's
just waiting for us to notice. The air feels different tonight,
doesn't it Like the whole room is taking a deep
breath and letting it out very slowly. I think the
story light has something it wants to give us before
you drift off. I see it loomy. It's sort of shimmering,
like a little star that got caught inside. Is it?
Is it a special word tonight? It is, Max, It's
a very gentle word. I'm going to think it now,
and I want you to listen for it inside your mind. Ready.
The word is kindness. Just let that sit there for
a moment, kindness. Watch now the lid is opening. There
it goes a beautiful golden light floating up like a bubble,
drifting right across the room to where Gramps is resting.
Speaker 2: Hmm. I've felt that warmth arrive before I even open
my eyes. It's settled right here in my beard, soft
as a summer breeze. And oh, I know this glow.
It's the color of candle light reflecting on polished glass.
It's a story about a girl, a garden, and a
very important shoe. But more than that, it's a story
about a heart that stayed soft even when the world
was hard. Settle in, Max, Pull that blanket up to
your chin. The story light is amber. Now the listening glow.
It's time to hear the story of the Slipper of Glass.
Speaker 1: I'm ready, grumps, I'm listening.
Speaker 2: Once a long time ago, in a house that was
grand on the outside but cold on the inside, there
lived a girl named Ella. Now everyone called her Cinderella
because she often sat by the fireplace to stay warm,
and the cinders would dust her apron with gray. But
beneath the dust, Ella was radiant, not just because she
was beautiful, though she was, but because she possessed a
quiet magic that no one else in the house understood.
That magic was kindness. Her stepmother and step sisters filled
the house with noise, demands, and sharp words, cluttering the
air with their complaints, but Ella moved through the hallways softly.
When they ordered her to scrub the floors, she did
it with care, humming a melody that made the work
feel lighter. When they demanded their tea. She brooded perfectly,
not out of fear, but because that was simply who
she was. She didn't know how to be anything other
than gentle.
Speaker 1: It sounds lonely grumps, being the only gentle thing in
a noisy house.
Speaker 2: It was lonely, loomy. But Ella had friends that the
others didn't notice. She had the mice who lived behind
the skirting boards and the birds that nested in the eaves.
She would save crumbs from her own dinner to share
with them. While her sisters worried about ribbons and jewels,
Ella worried about whether the garden birds had enough water
in the summer heat. That is the thing about kindness,
Mas It notices the small things.
Speaker 1: Like how we notice the snail shells on the wall.
Speaker 2: Exactly like that. One day, a ripple of excitement went
through the house. A letter arrived on heavy cream colored
paper sealed with royal wax. The king was holding a
ball for the prince, and every eligible maiden in the
kingdom was invited. The house instantly turned into a whirlwind.
The step sisters pulled dressers from wardrobes, tossing silks and
satins onto the floor. They demanded lace, they demanded velvet.
They demanded Ella's help to stitch and pin and curl.
For days, Ella helped them. She ironed them the pleats
and polished their shoes until they shone like mirrors. And
when she quietly asked, might I go to the ball
as well? They only laughed. They pointed at her dusty
apron and her worn out shoes. You, they said, the
prince wants to see princesses, not girls who sweep the chimney.
Speaker 1: That must have hurt her heart. But she didn't argue,
did she.
Speaker 2: No, she didn't argue. She helped them into their carriage,
adjusted their trains one last time, and watched them ride away.
The house fell silent. Ella went into the garden to
a quiet stone bench beneath a weeping willow tree. It
was twilight, that soft purple time between day and night.
She didn't cry out in anger. She just sat there,
feeling a little empty, looking at the pumpkin patch where
the large orange gourds sat heavy in the soil. She whispered,
just once, I wish I could have seen the palace.
And because the world has a way of listening to
gentle hearts, the air began to shimmer. It wasn't a
loud crack of thunder, but a sparkle like fireflies waking
up all at once.
Speaker 1: The fairy Godmother.
Speaker 2: Ha ha ha, indeed max. She stepped out of the shimmer,
looking like a friendly auntie who always has a peppermint
in her pocket. She held a wand that looked like
it was made of starlight. Dry your eyes, my dear,
she said softly, you have earned a night of magic.
She didn't ask Ella if she was rich or powerful.
She just asked for a pumpkin with a tap of
her wand a sound like a silver bell. The pumpkin
didn't explode, It swelled. It turned from orange to gold,
smoothing out growing wheels until it was a magnificent coach
lined with blue velvet. The garden mice, blinking in the
light were tapped and turned into sleek white horses. A
lizard became a footman, and a goose became the coachman.
It was a transformation of pure joy, but she was.
Speaker 1: Still in her apron gramps.
Speaker 2: Not for long. The fairy Godmother smiled a smile full
of warmth and tapped Ella's shoulder. The dust fell away.
The worn fabric dissolved into mist and re formed as silk,
the color of a cloud passing over the moon. It
was blue and silver and white all at once. And
on her feet slippers made of glass. They caught the
light of the stars and held it.
Speaker 1: Go.
Speaker 2: The Godmother said, enjoy the music, but remember magic has
its rhythm. When the clock strikes twelve, the spell will
rest and everything will return to as it was. Ella promised,
climbed into the golden coach, and they rolled away, leaving
a trail of sparkles on the cobblestones. She must have
been nervous, perhaps a little, But when she arrived at
the palace, something changed. She stepped into the great hall
and the music seemed to pause. It wasn't just her dress, max,
it was her presence. She didn't strut or demand attention.
She walked with the same quiet grace she used when
feeding the birds. The Prince, who had been bored by
all the grand posturing of the evening, looked up. He
saw someone who looked peaceful. He walked across the floor, bowed,
and asked for a dance. For hours, they floated across
the ballroom. They didn't talk about kingdoms or riches. They
talked about the gardens and the stars and the way
the moonlight hit the lake. Ella was kind to everyone
she met. She smiled at the musicians, She thanked the
servants who brought lemonade. She was just Ella, shining bright.
Speaker 1: She forgot about the time, didn't she. It's easy to
do when you're happy.
Speaker 2: She did until the first heavy note of the clock
tower boomed through the open windows. Dong one. Ella froze.
Dong two. She pulled away from the Prince, her eyes wide.
I must go, she whispered. Dong three. She ran, not
out of fear, but to keep her promise. Dong four.
She flew down the grand staircase, her glass slippers chiming
against the marble. Dong five. One of the slippers slipped
from her foot. She hesitated, looking back, but the Prince
was following. Dong six. She couldn't stop. She ran out
into the night, into the cool air. By the time
the clock struck twelve, the coach was a pumpkin again,
The horses were mice, and she was sitting by the
side of the road in her old apron, holding nothing
but a memory and the other Slipper and the other slipper.
The Prince found the one she left behind. He held
it up and it looked like a piece of frozen water.
He knew that whoever fit this shoe was the person
who had brought such peace to the ball room. The
next day, the kingdom was buzzing. The Grand Duke traveled
from house to house. Every lady tried to force her
foot into the delicate glass shoe. Toes were curled, heels
were pushed, but glass does not bend, It only accepts
the perfect fit. Finally they arrived at Ella's house. The
step sisters try pushing and grunting, but it was no use.
The Duke was about to leave when he saw Ella
standing quietly in the shadows. And what about her? He asked.
The stepmother laughed her, She's just the maid.
Speaker 1: But the Duke was kind too, wasn't he.
Speaker 2: He listened, He was dutiful. He called Ella forward. She
sat down on a simple wooden stool. The room was silent.
She extended her foot, still in its worn stocking. The
Duke slid the glass slipper on. It didn't pinch, it
didn't squeeze. It slipped on as easily as a drop
of rain joining a puddle a perfect fit. Ella reached
into her pocket and pulled out the matching slipper. The
sisters gasped, the stepmother stared, but Ella didn't gloat. She
didn't say I told you so. She stood up, and
for a moment, the magic flickered back, just enough for
them to see the princess she really was. The prince
was called, and when he saw her, he didn't care
about the apron. He recognized the kindness in her eyes.
He took her hand and they left that cold house forever.
But legend says that before she left, Ella turned back
to her sisters, who were frightened of what she might
do now that she was powerful. She simply curtsied and
wished them well, and walked out into the sun.
Speaker 1: The story is resting now, Max. The amber light in gramps.
His beard is changing. Watch it turn. It's becoming softer, warmer,
like the color of a rose in the evening sun.
It's rose gold. Now. That means the story has shared
everything it can, but there is still a feeling we
need to understand.
Speaker 2: Yes, the book is closed, but the world is still open.
We are going to step inside, just for a moment.
To see what happened right before she left.
Speaker 1: Can we go to the garden. I want to see
the pumpkin.
Speaker 2: Then to the garden we shall go. Imagine the grass
beneath your feet, Max. The air smells of damp earth
and blooming jasmine.
Speaker 1: Here we are. The carriage is waiting at the front gate, Max.
The Prince is waiting too. But look over there by
the vegetable patch. Someone is crouching down. It's Ella. She's
wearing a nice dress now, but her hands are dirty.
What's she doing?
Speaker 2: Let's go closer and ask her gently. She looks very focused.
Speaker 1: Ella. Excuse me, Ella. She's turning around.
Speaker 3: Max.
Speaker 1: Look at her smile. It's very calm. Ella. The prince
is waiting for you. Why are you digging in the dirt.
You have a crown, now you don't have to work.
Speaker 2: She's brushing the soil off her hands. Max. Listen to
her voice. It's soft, like the rustle of leaves.
Speaker 1: Hello.
Speaker 2: There.
Speaker 1: I know he is waiting, and I will go to
him in a moment. But you see, I couldn't leave
just yet. These vines, the pumpkin vines, they were pulled
up when the magic happened. If I leave them like this.
The smaller pumpkins won't grow, and the mice they need
the shelter of these leaves when the owl comes out
at night. But the people inside the house were mean
to you. Why are you fixing their garden. It's their pumpkins,
It is their garden. Yes, but the vines didn't do
anything wrong, and the mice didn't do anything wrong. If
I leave in anger, I leave a mess behind me.
Kindness isn't something I do for my stepmother. It is
something I do for myself so I can sleep peacefully.
I want to leave this place better than I found it,
even if no one notices but the mice. She's cupping
a little bit of water in her hands for a beetle.
Speaker 2: Max.
Speaker 1: Look how careful she is. She's really slow. She's not
rushing to the castle at all. There is no rush.
The castle will be there, but this little beetle is
thirsty right now. Being a princess doesn't mean I stop
caring for the small things. In fact, it means I
should care for them even more. There, he's happy.
Speaker 2: Now she's standing up up Max. She's wiping her hands
on a small cloth. She looks back at the house
that big cold house. And she doesn't look angry. She
just looks finished.
Speaker 1: She looks light, like she's not carrying anything heavy.
Speaker 2: That is what kindness does, Max. It keeps your heart
light because you aren't carrying grudges or mean words. You
just do the good thing and you walk away.
Speaker 1: Goodbye, little garden grow well.
Speaker 2: I think we've found what we came for.
Speaker 1: Yes, look at the story light now. The rose gold
is cooling down. It's turning a deep, beautiful lavender blue,
the color of the sky just before the stars come
out completely. And look straight ahead. The air is softening.
Speaker 2: The dream gate. It's waiting for us. It's not a
door of wood or iron. It's just a gentle space
between the leaves, where the light is dim and welcoming.
Speaker 1: The story light is drifting out of Gramps's beard to
show us the way, just a little floating star. Let's
follow it slowly, step by step through the gate, leaving
the garden behind, leaving the story behind.
Speaker 2: And here we are Nocturnia. The air here is so still.
Can you feel it, Mags. It's like the whole world
is made of soft blankets.
Speaker 1: We are in the marshmallow meadows tonight, The ground is
spongy and soft. Every step we take makes no sound
at all. The grass here isn't sharp, it's made of velvet,
and the sky is a deep, comforting indigo. It smells
like warm milk and vanilla.
Speaker 2: Look over there, near the slow river, do you see her.
It's Ella, But she isn't wearing the ball gown anymore,
and she isn't in her apron. She is wearing a
dress made of simple starlight. She is walking so slowly.
Speaker 1: We are just watching now. We don't need to speak
to her. She is carrying something in her hands. It's
a small glowing orb of glass. That is the dream word.
That is kindness. She is carrying it so we don't
have to hold it anymore. She's walking to the tree,
the big dream tree is.
Speaker 2: The dream tree is very wide tonied. Its branches are
low and heavy, with leaves that glow gently blue purple silver.
They are rustling like a lullaby.
Speaker 1: Ella is reaching up. She isn't rushing. She is finding
the perfect spot on a low branch, a place where
the kindness can rest. She lifts the glass or and
places it gently among the leaves.
Speaker 2: It settles there. It glows once twice and then dims.
The tree has taken it. The tree is holding the kindness.
Now it's safe.
Speaker 1: Ella is sitting down on under the tree. She's closing
her eyes. She is resting. And because the word is
safe in the tree, you don't have to think about
it anymore. You don't have to figure out how to
be kind or who to help, or what to do.
That is for tomorrow tonight. Nothing is needed.
Speaker 2: Your legs can be heavy now like the roots of
the tree, sinking down, comfortable and still.
Speaker 1: Your shoulders can drop, your hands can open. The story
is finished, The less is finished. The word is resting.
Speaker 2: We're drifting back now, floating away from the meadow, back
towards the attic. The story light is guiding us home.
It's dimming, smaller.
Speaker 1: And smaller, and we're back. The room is solid and steady.
The bed is underneath you. The pillow is soft. The
story light is slipping out of Gramps's beard, drifting back
into the jar.
Speaker 2: There it goes safe inside.
Speaker 1: I'm closing the lid. Now it's closed. The magic is sleeping.
You are safe, You are loved, and the night is
very very quiet. Good night Max, Good night, sleepy listener.
That was a good one. Loomy, I think I'm just
about a sleep. Good night.
Speaker 3: Then Money, every word, The.
Speaker 2: Vision, the
Speaker 3: D