Bedtime Stories For Littles Novels & Stories

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

” Blake smiled at Jayce, whose eyes were still wide open and said, “that is the end of the first story. Do you want me to continue?” “Yes dad,” the little boy smiled back. “Please continue.” “Okay,” Blake flipped the page. “Story two is ‘Little Ted and His Mother.’ “Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Ted. He had big brown eyes and a cute little nose. Ted loved to play and have fun, but most of all, he loved his mother. One evening, as the sun began to set, Ted's mother called him to bed. "It's time to sleep, my little one," she said. "You've had a long day of playing."

The boys were too tired to put up their usual bedtime resistance, allowing themselves to be tucked into their beds with minimal fuss. "Story?" Ethan requested, his eyes already half-closed. "Short one," I promised, settling into the chair between their beds while Thomas leaned against the doorframe. I chose a familiar story about brave little mice going on adventures, my voice soft and soothing in the dim light of their room. By the time I reached the end, both boys were fast asleep, their breathing deep and even. Thomas and I tiptoed out of their room, leaving the door slightly ajar as always.

“Come on kids! We’re getting late.” With hesitance, I looked over at Brett who refused to meet my eyes. With his head hung low, he got off the bench and walked toward his mother, without bothering to wait for me. Reluctantly, I followed him. Once I reached them, I held up the cover I was holding out to Linda. “What have you got for us, honey?” Linda asked with a smile. “Hello, Linda,” I said. “These are a few of my favourite books and some cookies. My mom used to read these out every day so I could sleep. Little Anne always gets bored and cries at night. You can read them out for her. They are very interesting stories.”

“And I missed your mommy. So much that I had to come and see you all.” My youngest two squealed in delight again. Maybe I let them watch too many fairy tales. “Ok, girls.” I clapped my hands, ushering them. “Go back and play please. Bedtime in an hour.” It was that easy to dismiss my girls. Just the mention of bedtime and they disappear faster than the hummingbirds. Or the roadrunner in those old cartoons with Wile E. Coyote. Turning my attention to his companion, I extended my hand out to hers to shake it.

I stepped back into the twins' room, feeling defeated, but I couldn't let them see the sadness on my face anymore. Their tears had stopped. I couldn't give them another reason to cry. "Who wants to hear a bedtime story?!" I clapped my hands, feigning the giddiness in my voice. They chorused, equally as loud. "Me!" They curled up in bed with me, and I began telling them a tale my mother always told me before bed when I was a child. It was about dragons, the magical creatures who could breathe fire.

The Bedtime Story The twins were tucked into their beds, smelling of lavender soap and fresh cotton. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the nightlight shaped like a crescent moon. "Story time!" Lyra demanded, clutching her stuffed wolf. "The one about the King!" she requested. Alex sat in the rocking chair between their beds, stretching his long legs out. Zara leaned against the doorframe, listening. "Again?" Alex asked. "You know how it ends." he told them.

"What story would you like to hear today?" Garret seemed to ponder for a moment before answering, "About Pinocchio?" Lyyana nodded and smiled. Lyyana then began to read a bedtime story from the book of 1001 bedtime stories. Lyyana was very good at reading stories; she played with her voice and tone, making Garret look so enthusiastic listening to the story she brought. Occasionally, Lyyana's storytelling was interrupted by Garret's questions. Without Lyyana realizing it, a man was recording Lyyana's activities and sending it to their superior.

"And that was the story of Jack and the beanstalk," I smiled as I closed the book. I settled the book on the bedside table and returned to the little ones. "How was that for a bedtime story?" I asked as I looked at them from the top bunk to the pull-a-bed on the floor.

She chose herself. That night, after Lila came home from her grandparents house, Elena helped her into pajamas, combed through her damp hair, and read Goodnight Moon for what felt like the hundredth time. Lila snuggled close, her little fingers playing with the collar of Elena’s shirt as her eyes fluttered sleepily. But then Lila’s voice, soft and sweet, broke the silence. “Mommy?” “Mm?” “Can you tell me the hummingbird story again?”