Adult Bedtime Stories Novels & Stories

And I will fly so high away from all the abuse. "Wow, it's so beautiful! You'll read more for me insha'Allah. This will be my bedtime story in our case, bedtime poem." He mumbled gently, pressing her more into his chest. They said their prayers and fell into abyss of dreamless slumber.

A subdued silence enveloped the fireplace after Shango’s story, interrupted only by the occasional chirping of the night crickets. “That does not count as a bedtime story,’’ Babybaby finally found her voice. “It is child,’’ the thunder god answered. “No it’s not’’ Babybaby insisted quite stubbornly. “bedtime stories are supposed to be a nice tales with happy ending, all bedtime fairytales are, like the ones Amaka used to read to me, this one is a stupid story.’’

I consider myself a patient man, but Chloe certainly knows how to push my limits. When bedtime arrived, Chloe changed into another pair of Frozen pajamas. She climbed into bed, and Bella tucked her in, gently brushing her hair back. We then sat with her, sharing a story about our lives, the people we knew, and the experiences we had. It was far more engaging than reading from a book. However, we occasionally read her stories as well. Bella and I were committed to ensuring she never missed out on bedtime tales, always making time for her.

A young couple moved in to a new home in Hawaii. They had a young son, Bobby, whom they would put to bed each night, only to find him the next morning sleeping on the floor in the corner of his room ... ... One day, the father put a wardrobe in that corner, and that night while the couple was watching TV, they turned to see their son walking out of his room as if he was holding someone's hand. Just before he got to the door, he dropped his hand as if the person had let go. He woke up crying. The couple were scared, and they called a Hawaiian priest for help. He told them that their house was built on a "night marching trail" — a path taken by ghosts. The priest said Bobby always slept in a c

I whispered with a loving smile, "which story would you like tonight?" Mathew's face lit up with excitement, his tiny hands reaching for his favorite book. "The one about the brave little wolf, Mumma!" I chuckled as I opened the book, a captivating story about a young wolf's grand adventure. Mathew listened with rapt attention, his eager eyes fixed on the pages as I spun the tale of bravery and exploration. By the time I reached the part where the little wolf found solace under the silvery glow of the moon, my son was already fast asleep.

Uneducated he is, they all are] Auther has finally arrived his hands red as if he fell off a cliff but it's dark out probably 9 o'clock James won't see a difference. Those snores from the other rooms tend to lessen, oh good kids, sleep is medicine for the mind is an adventurous place, you all can be Cinderella's for all we know, if only they knew who Cinderella was. No television here just grandma's storytelling during those campfire nights. Stories that would always start with "once upon a time there was a rabbit". But she sure got their smiles on. ^Auther is that you?^🍃

Diane was still out of the room and I wasn’t sure when she would be back. Once Enid was back in bed, I settled on a small stool by her side. I told her a bedtime story – a simple fairy tale about a brave wolf pup who found courage even when in trouble. My voice was barely a whisper, cracked at times, but each word seemed to soothe her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and after a few minutes, she was curled under the covers, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. I pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked her hair. “Sleep well, baby. Mama loves you so much,” I whispered, turning off the light. The small room was plunged into darkness except for the pale slivers of moonlight drifting through the light curta

"Mama. Dada. Luna sleep?" "It's 7 PM, baby. Way past your bedtime." "Story first?" "Always story first." We followed her to her room—no longer a nursery, now a full toddler room with a big girl bed she'd recently transitioned to. "Which book tonight?" Alexander asked. "ALL books!" "We're not reading all the books. Pick three." "Five!" "Three." "Four!" "Deal. Four books." She selected them carefully. "Hungry Caterpillar. Wild Things. Good Night Moon. And... this one!"

He was the emotionally mature one of the twins, his intelligent eyes already told me he knew more than he should "Are you leaving Daddy forever? I think I miss him." Vance asked and I slowly nodded my head. I didn't want to tell the children something this hurtful but I had to. I knew without a doubt this room had cameras and he was watching our every moment. There was nothing I could do to make them feel better, so a silly thought calmed my head. "How about I tell you a bedtime story?" I suggested. They didn't say anything, but I went ahead regardless; my steady voice was the only thing that was heard in the room until they fell asleep around 10 pm. They were both snuggling to my side.

“I’ll tell you lots of stories until you fall asleep.” Her little nod nestled into the crook of my neck. And just like that, my world stopped spinning. I tucked her into bed beside me, wrapping the covers around her small frame. She curled into the pillow with expectant eyes, and I began to speak—spinning a tale about brave princesses who conquered beasts with the power of kindness, about noble knights who protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. As I spoke, her eyelids began to droop. Her breathing slowed. The weight of the day finally began to lift from my shoulders, replaced by the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest beside me.