Bedtime Stories Short Novels & Stories

Because no matter how much I loved them, I wasn’t coming home tonight. And they knew it. When evening came, they clung to me. "Stay for bedtime stories," Mia begged. "Please, Daddy?" Sara nodded slightly. One story turned into three. Then came extra hugs, extra kisses, extra minutes. "Just a little longer," they kept saying. Until, finally, I had to go. "When will you come back?" Mia’s voice trembled. "Soon, princess. Very soon." "Tomorrow?" Leo asked. "Not tomorrow, buddy. But soon."

Especially Benjamin, he loved her a little more every day. "Alright, Hannah, it's time for us to rest." Amanda smiled and stood up holding her daughter. This little girl seemed to be getting fatter every day, her arms ached from carrying her. Benjamin followed, standing up, "Wife, I'll take Hannah to sleep and tell her a bedtime story while I'm at it. You rest here." Amanda handed her daughter to him, "Okay, it's easier for you to coax Hannah to sleep." Hannah smiled sweetly, "Mommy, when Daddy tells stories, his expressions become more and more expressive. Daddy tells the story of the Little White Rabbit the most vividly. Daddy's voice is so nice to listen to. I'm purely lulled to sleep by

Madison After dinner, I supervised bath time while Hazel cleaned up the kitchen. Ethan splashed enthusiastically, creating tidal waves that soaked my sweater. "Mommy, can we read three stories tonight?" "One story," I countered, wrapping him in a towel. "It's a school night." "Two stories?" "One and a half." "What's half a story?" "You'll find out." I got him into pajamas and tucked him into bed, selecting his current favorite book about a dragon who was afraid of his own fire.

Chapter 20: Intrusive questions Kathleen’s P.O.V I tucked her into the soft, cozy bed. I then dimmed the lights before sitting by her bed and reading her bedtime story from my phone. I wasn’t used to searching bedtime stories and didn’t really have an idea of what kids would like, so I chose the first story that came up on the internet, not really focusing on what it was about, but in the end, it did turn out to be an interesting story about friendship, as explained by two cute bunnies.

As she settled in beside him, Theo snuggled close, his small body seeking the warmth and comfort of her presence. "Mama Hazel, will you tell me a bedtime story?" Theo asked, his eyes filled with anticipation. Hazel smiled, her heart swelling with love for the sweet boy who had captured her heart. She began to weave a tale of magical adventures and brave heroes, her voice soft and soothing in the quiet of the night. As the story unfolded, Theo's eyelids grew heavy, his breathing slowing into the steady rhythm of sleep. Hazel watched over him, her hand resting on his back, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

I sat with my back on the headboard while Aiden and Abby lay on either side of me, with their heads leaning against me as I told them as much as I could remember from one of the bedtime stories Celine and I were usually forced to sit through back at the foster home. We always found it boring and would be among the first kids to do off before she even read two lines from the story, the other kids would fall closely behind, it was that dreadful. But tonight, the kids found my old, half-complete, gap-filled story fascinating enough to listen to as I tried to lull them to sleep.

" Alexa yawns. (Cooyright:The short story isn't mine. Copied it from a bedstories website. Please rate and comment.love yal.ADIOS.)

“Can you tell the story again?” Of course, she should have expected that Ramsey wouldn’t be satisfied with only hearing the story just once, but that’s all he’ll be getting from her tonight. “Little darling,” she yawned. “Mommy is tired. Mommy needs to go to bed just like you. It’s way past bedtime.” “Awww,” Ramsey sulked as he dropped down, finding Mr. Winslow again. “I promise, I’ll tell the story twice tomorrow if I tuck you in early.”

Marie knew of her tiny little girl, Aleta, who used to hop around on one foot to see if she could keep her balance, and stuck her naughty fingers into Marie’s jam, and would ask for a bedtime story even when it was nowhere near bedtime. “It doesn’t have to be a bedtime story, dear,” Marie would say, and her eyes would twinkle. Smiling Marie. Happy Marie. “A story told at any other time is simply a story.” Aleta, who had dark eyes like her mother, and dark hair like her mother, and it refused to be tamed and combed, also like her mother’s, would say, “But bedtime stories are the best. Won’t you please tell me one, Mama?”

Then, in a low, even voice, she began telling stories. She told five. Thomas didn't seem remotely sleepy. In the past, by the third story, Theo would already have been asleep. But she knew better than to compare Thomas to him. Thomas's insomnia ran deep; his body and mind refused to rest easily. Patient as ever, Sharon kept going. She had prepared around thirty bedtime stories that night. If none of them worked, she would simply try another approach tomorrow. But the truth was—she hadn't slept much the night before, keeping vigil over him. Now, lulled by her own soft cadence and the drowsy pull of her words, she began to nod off mid-sentence.