Speaker 1: Hello, and welcome back to Sleepy Stories. I'm your host, Lucy,
and my friends and I will be reading you a
sleepy bedtime story every week to relax you and to
help you to drift off into a RESTful sleep. From
time to time, we will also read you a relaxing,
peaceful meditation that will take you somewhere beautiful and calming.
Once we have read the stories, we will then read
them a second time, but this time they will be
ready even slower. This will help you to relax even more.
Before we begin, I would like you to close your
eyes and breathe in and out nice and deeply. Take
a few seconds to inhale, and then hold your breath
for a few seconds more, and then release and breathe out.
Do this a few times if you need to. While
you listen to the music and you listen to my voice,
give yourself time to let your body relax and your
mind settle. It's important that we allow time for us
to feel safe, cozy, and completely at ease. And now
it's time for this week's story.
Speaker 2: Long ago, beside a wide and gentle river, there stood
a tall fruit tree. Its branches stretched out over the water,
and its leaves whispered softly whenever the wind passed through.
And in that tree lived a monkey. The monkey spent
his days in quiet contentment. He would wake with the
morning light, stretch lazily along the branches, and reach for
the sweet ripened fruit that grew all around him. He
ate slowly, peacefully, with no hurry at all, and as
the sun drifted across the sky, he would sit and
watch the river below, the way it shimmered, the way
it moved, always flowing, never rushing. One afternoon, as the
air grew warm and still, a crocodile came swimming along
the river. He moved quietly through the water, his eyes
just above the surface, watching, listening, until he noticed the
monkey in the tree above. Good afternoon, the crocodile called gently.
The monkey looked down, surprised, but not afraid. Good afternoon,
he replied. The crocodile lingered near the bank. This river
is long, he said, slowly, and sometimes very lonely. The
monkey tilted his head. Well, he said, kindly, you don't
have to be lonely today. And so they began to talk.
They spoke of simple things, of the weather, of the river,
of the trees, of the quiet rhythm of their days.
After a while, the monkey reached up, picked her ripe
golden fruit and dropped it gently down. The crocodile caught
it in his mouth. He had never tasted anything so sweet.
From that day on, the crocodile returned often, and each
time the monkey t key would share his fruit, and
slowly a friendship began to grow. Days passed, then weeks.
The river flowed on unchanged, but something between them had
quietly shifted. They had grown used to each other's presence.
One evening, as the sky softened into shades of gold
and blue, the crocodile spoke again. My wife, he said, slowly,
has heard of you. The monkey blinked, Oh, he said,
she wonders. The crocodile continued, if you might visit us
so she can meet the one who shares such sweet fruit.
The monkey hesitated, I live in this tree, he said gently,
I do not swim. The crocodile smiled. You need not swim,
he said, I will carry you. The river was calm
that evening, its surface smooth like glass, and after a
quiet moment of thought, the monkey agreed. He climbed down, carefully,
step by step until He reached the crocodile's back, and
together they began to cross the river. At first, there
was only silence, the gentle sound of water, the slow
rhythm of movement, the soft glow of the fading sun.
But half way across, the crocodile's voice changed. It grew quieter, heavier.
My friend, he said, I must tell you something. The
monkey listened. My wife, the crocodile continued. She is not
only curious. There was a pause. She believes that because
you eat such sweet fruit, your heart must be sweet
as well. The river seemed deeper, now still, but deeper.
She has asked me, the crocodile said, slowly, to bring
you to her, so she may eat your heart. For
a moment, there was only the sound of water. The
monkey did not move, He did not panic. Instead, he
breathed slowly and looked out across the quiet river. Oh,
he said, softly, Why didn't you tell me sooner? The
crocodile blinked. You are not afraid, he asked. The monkey
shook his head gently. I would have gladly given your
wife what she wanted, he said. But I have made
a mistake. A mistake, said the crocodile. Yes, the monkey
replied calmly, I left my heart back in the tree.
The crocodile stopped. You left it in the tree. The
monkey nodded. I do not carry it with me, he said,
it is safe where I live. The river was quiet again.
The crocodile thought for a long moment, then slowly turned around.
Then we must go back, he said, And so they
swam back across the river, slowly, gently, as the last
light of death faded into night. When they reached the tree,
the monkey climbed up quickly, branch by branch, higher and
higher until he was safe once more. He looked down
at the crocodile. His voice was still calm, but now
it carried something deeper. My friend, he said, A heart
is not something one leaves behind. The crocodile lowered his eyes.
You came to me as a friend, the monkey continued,
But you carried another intention. The river moved quietly between them.
It is better, the monkey said gently, to be honest
than to lose both trust and friendship. The crocodile said nothing,
and after a while he slowly turned and disappeared beneath
the water. The monkey remained in his tree. The leaves
whispered softly once more, just as they always had, and
the river continued to flow, steady and unchanged. Long ago,
beside a wide and gentle river, there stood a tall
fruit tree. Its branches stretched out over the water, and
its leaves whispered softly whenever the wind passed through. And
in that tree lived a monkey. The monkey spent his
days in quiet contentment. He would wake with the morning light,
stretch lazily along the branches, and reach for the sweet
ripened fruit that grew all around him. He ate slowly, peacefully,
with no hurry at all, and as the sun drifted
across the sky, he would sit and watch the river below,
the way it shimmered, the way it moved, always flowing,
never rushing. One afternoon, as the air grew warm and still,
a crocodile came swimming along the river. He moved quietly
through the water, his eyes just above the surface, watching, listening,
until he noticed the monkey in the tree above. Good afternoon.
The crocodile called gently. The monkey looked down, surprised but
not afraid. Good afternoon, he replied. The crocodile lingered near
the bank. This river is long. He said, slowly, and
sometimes very lonely. The monkey tilted his head. Well, he said, kindly,
you don't have to be lonely today. And so they
began to talk. They spoke of simple things, of the weather,
of the river, of the trees, of the quiet rhythm
of their days. After a while, the monkey reached up,
picked a ripe golden fruit and dropped it gently down.
The crocodile caught it in his mouth. He had never
tasted anything so sweet. From that day on, the crocodile
returned often, and each time the monkey would share his fruit,
and slowly her friendship began to grow. Days passed, then weeks.
The river flowed on unchanged, but something between them had
quietly shifted. They had grown used to each other's presence.
One evening, as the sky softened into shades of gold
and blue, the crocodile spoke again. My wife, he said, slowly,
has heard of you. The monkey blinked, Oh, he said,
she wonders. The crocodile continued, if you might visit us
so she can meet the one who shares such sweet fruit.
The monkey hesitated, I live in this tree, he said gently,
I do not swim The crocodile smiled. You need not swim,
he said, I will carry you. The river was calm
that evening, its surface smooth like glass, and after a
quiet moment of thought, the monkey agreed. He climbed down, carefully,
step by step, until he reached the crocodile's back, and
together they began to cross the river. At first, there
was only silence, the gentle sound of water, the slow
rhythm of movement, the soft glow of the fading sun.
But halfway across, the crocodile's voice changed. It grew quieter, heavier.
My friend, he said, I must tell you something. The
monkey listened. My wife, the crocodile continued, She is not
only curious. There was a pause. She believes that because
you eat such sweet fruit, your heart must be sweet
as well. The river seemed deeper now still, but deeper.
She has asked me, the crocodile said, slowly, to bring
you to her, so she may eat your heart. For
a moment, there was only the sound of water. The
monkey did not move, He did not panic. Instead, he
breathed slowly and looked out across the quiet river. Oh,
he said, softly, why didn't you tell me sooner. The
crocodile blinked. You you are not afraid, he asked. The
monkey shook his head gently. I would have gladly given
your wife what she wanted, he said. But I have
made a mistake, A mistake, said the crocodile. Yes, the
monkey replied calmly, I left my heart back in the tree.
The crocodile stopped. You left it in the tree. The
monkey nodded. I do not carry it with me, he said,
it is safe where I live. The river was quiet again.
The crocodile thought for a long moment, then slowly turned around.
Then we must go back, he said, And so they
swam back across the river, slowly, gently, as the last
light of day faded into night. When they reached the tree,
the monkey climbed up quickly, branch by branch, higher and
higher until he was safe once more. He looked down
at the crocodile. His voice was still calm, but now
it carried something deeper, My friend, he said, A heart
is not something one leaves behind. The crocodile lowered his eyes.
You came to me as a friend, the monkey continued,
but you carried another intention. The river moved quietly between them.
It is better, the monkey said gently, to be honest
than to lose both trust and friendship. The crocodile said nothing,
and after a while he slowly turned and disappeared beneath
the water. The monkey remained in his tree. The leaves
whispered softly once more, just as they always had, and
the river continued to flow, steady and unchanged. Long ago,
beside a wide and gentle river there stood a tall
fruit tree. Its branches stretched out over the water, and
its leaves whispered softly whenever the wind passed through. And
in that tree lived a monkey. The monkey spent his
days in quiet contentment. He would wake with the morning light,
stretch lazily along the branches, and reach for the sweet,
ripened fruit that grew all around him. He ate slowly, peacefully,
with no hurry at all, and as the sun drifted
across the sky, he would sit and watch the river below,
the way it shimmered, the way it moved, always flowing,
never rushing. One afternoon, as the air grew warm and still,
a crocodile came swimming along the river. He moved quietly
through the water, his eyes just above the surface, watching
listening until he noticed the monkey in the tree above.
Good afternoon, the crocodile called gently. The monkey looked down, surprise,
but not afraid. Good afternoon, he replied. The crocodile lingered
near the bank. This river is long, he said, slowly,
and sometimes very lonely. The monkey tilted his head. Well,
he said, kindly, you don't have to be lonely today,
And so they began to talk. They spoke of simple things,
of the weather, of the river, of the trees, of
the quiet rhythm of their days. After a while, the
monkey reached up, picked her ripe golden fruit and dropped
it gently down. The crocodile caught it in his mouth.
He had never tasted anything so sweet. From that day on,
the crocodile returned often, and each time the monkey would
share his fruit, and slowly her friendship began to grow.
Days passed, then weeks. The river flowed on unchanged, but
something between them had quietly shifted. They had grown use
to each other's presence. One evening, as the sky softened
into shades of gold and blue, the crocodile spoke again,
My wife, he said, slowly, has heard of you. The
monkey blinked. Oh, he said, she wonders. The crocodile continued,
if you might visit us so she can meet the
one who shares such sweet fruit. The monkey hesitated, I
live in this tree, he said gently, I do not swim.
The crocodile smiled. You need not swim, he said, I
will carry you. The river was calm that evening, its
surface smooth like glass, and after a quiet moment of thought,
the monkey agreed. He climbed down, carefully, step by step,
until he reached the crocodile's back, and together they began
to cross the river. At first, there was only silence,
the gentle sound of water, the slow rhythm of movement,
the soft glow of the fading sun. But half way across,
the crocodile's voice changed. It grew quieter, heavier. My friend,
he said, I must tell you something. The monkey listened.
My wife, the crocodile continued, She is not only curious.
There was a pause. She believes that because you eat
such sweet fruit, your heart must be sweet as well.
The river seemed deeper now still, but deeper. She has
asked me, the crocodile said, slowly, to bring you to her.
So she may eat your heart. For a moment, there
was only the sound of water. The monkey did not move,
He did not panic. Instead, he breathed slowly and looked
out a cross the quiet river. Oh, he said, softly.
Why didn't you tell me sooner? The crocodile blinked. You
are not afraid, he asked. The monkey shook his head gently.
I would have gladly given your wife what she wanted,
he said. But I have made a mistake. A mistake,
said the crocodile. Yes, the monkey replied calmly. I left
my heart back in the tree. The crocodile stopped. You
left it in the tree. The monkey nodded. I do
not carry it with me, he said, it is safe
where I live. The river was quiet again. The crocodile
thought for a long moment, then slowly turned round. Then
we must go back, he said, And so they swam
back across the river, slowly, gently, as the last light
of day faded into night. When they reached the tree,
the monkey climbed up quickly, branch by branch, higher and
higher until he was safe once more. He looked down
at the crocodile. His voice was still calm, but now
it carried something deeper, My friend, he said, A heart
is not something one leaves behind. The crocodile lowered his eyes.
You came to me as a friend, the monkey continued,
But you carried another intention. The river moved quietly between them.
It is better, the monkey said gently, to be honest
than to lose both trust and friendship. The crocodile said nothing,
and after a while he slowly turned and disappeared beneath
the water. The monkey remained in his tree. The leaves
whispered softly once more, just as they always had, and
the river continued to flow, steady and unchanged.
Speaker 3: News includ time it super