Hello, I'm Cheryl and welcome to Sleep Tight Relax, a cozy bedtime podcast made especially for kids, but perfect for dreamers of all ages.
In tonight's adventure, we follow a young girl named Evie who, during her family's Easter visit to the countryside, discovers a golden egg that leads her into a magical realm filled with riddles, glowing forests and unexpected lessons.
Are you cozy and comfy and ready for a super long story?
Remember to take some great big belly breaths as you listen, And if you are still awake, repeat to yourself the gentle words we will say at the end.
Evie and the Golden Egg Mom, are we there yet?
Evie asked, for what her mom thought must have been the hundredth time Almost!
Daddy's driving as fast as he safely can.
Shouldn't be much longer now!
Evie sighed, and pressed her face against the car window as the trees rolled by in a blur of green and brown.
They were almost there, but she liked to ask anyway, just in case her eyes were deceiving her.
Every Easter, her family visited Aunt Myra's house in the countryside.
It was an old stone farmhouse with crooked windows, mossy roof tiles, and a chimney that puffed, even when it wasn't cold.
The backyard stretched into a wild patch of forest that everyone called the thicket.
Even though no one really went past the blackberry bushes, except Evie.
Evie lived in a big, noisy city, though she didn't really think of it that way until she visited Aunt Mira's.
The city had fun things like smoothies and giant cookies.
But other than those, life there was all sirens and sidewalks and watching pigeons fight over breadcrumbs.
Aunt Myra's place, though, it smelled like damp earth and cinnamon toast. It was like living in a cookie shop, if the cookie shop also had creaky floorboards, wild rabbits in the garden and wooden cupboards full of strange teas with names like Midsummer Moon and Goodnight Nettle.
And there were treats.
Everywhere, there were treats.
Evie loved it. It was the kind of place where anything could happen, and sometimes did.
"'Almost there," said her mom, glancing back from the front seat.
Evie nodded and clutched her backpack a little tighter.
She had packed her notebook, a compass, just in case, and her favorite pencil with the chewed -up eraser.
Out the window, the trees grew taller and crept closer together.
Sunlight blinked between them like flashlight signals, just like the ones she used to send secret messages when they went camping.
They turned off the red gravel road a few minutes later and bumped down Aunt Myra's crooked old driveway.
The farmhouse looked just the same as last year, but Evie noticed something new.
A tiny wooden sign had been hammered into the mossy fence.
It read Easter hunt Sunday, all ages welcome mind the nettles.
Aunt Myra was waiting in a big floppy hat at the door, holding the tray of cookies that looked like tiny nests.
Evie, she called, come stretch those legs.
The robins are already gossiping, and I need your help keeping the crows from stealing the eggs.
Evie smiled and swung open the car door.
The air smelled like mud, mint, and something else she couldn't name.
Something that smelled a little like...
magic. Inside the farmhouse, the air was warm and sweet, full of lemon polish, cookies, and just a hint of the muddy mint smell from outside.
Evie dropped her backpack by the boot rack and was immediately handed a nest -shaped treat.
It was still warm. You timed that perfectly, Aunt Myra said with a wink.
Oven fresh and egg hunt ready.
Evie took a big bite, chewy oats, gooey chocolate, and a jelly bean tucked in the middle.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
Definitely better than a smoothie.
Her cousin Leo was already in the backyard yard, tossing a soccer ball at the garden gate and kicking it off the compost bin.
About time you got here, he called.
I already scooped out the best hiding spots.
For the eggs? Evvy asked, licking chocolate off her fingers.
For myself, Leo said, in case things get too competitive.
Evvy laughed and headed outside.
The backyard looked the same as always.
Stone path, crooked birdbath, laundry line full of colorful socks.
But everything felt just a little brighter.
The daffodils were taller than she remembered and the birds seemed unusually chatty.
The Robins were gossiping, just like Aunt Myra said.
Three of them huddled together on a fence post, chirping like they sharing a secret.
The grown -ups bustled around, setting up tomorrow's egg hunt.
Aunt Myra was tying ribbons to tree branches.
Leo's dad was testing out a drone for aerial egg footage.
Whatever that meant.
A folding table appeared covered in baskets, stickers and chocolate bunnies the size of Evie's head.
Later, as the sun slid lower in the sky, Evie followed the garden path to the edge of the thicket.
The blackberry bushes still formed a scratchy tangled wall.
But she knew the secret gap in the middle.
She crouched and peeked through.
The woods beyond were quiet.
Not spooky quiet, just waiting quietly.
She used to imagine forest creatures throwing parties back there when no one was watching, or portals to other places that only opened when the wind was just right.
Today, it looked ordinary.
Still... Evie narrowed her eyes Just beyond the bramble something glinted, golden and smooth like sunlight on still water.
She blinked and it was gone.
She stood still for a long moment watching the space where it had been.
Nothing, just leaves, just light.
But her heart was beating in a way that meant it might be something.
Hey Evie! Leo called from the porch. Come inside.
Aunt Myra says it's time for tea.
Evie gave the woods one last look.
Be right there, she called back.
That night, after tea and a game of sleepy charades, Evie lay curled up under a quilt in Aunt Myra's guest room.
The sheets smelled faintly of some flower and the windows creaked whenever the wind rustled the trees.
But Evie wasn't tired.
She rolled over and peeked through the curtains.
The moon was low and buttery, hanging just above the line of the thicket.
She thought again about the glint she'd seen in the woods earlier.
It might have been due on a leaf, or a beetle, or nothing at all, but it hadn't felt like nothing.
She grabbed her notebook from the nightstand and flipped to a blank page.
Spotted, a flicker of light just past the blackberry bushes looked like gold gone in a blink.
Hypothesis, not a firefly, Not the sun, wrong direction.
Not a leaf. Leaves don't grow.
Re -check tomorrow. She added a tiny drawing of the woods and tucked the notebook under her pillow.
The next morning was Easter Sunday and the house buzzed with activity.
Ribbons flapped on tree branches baskets were piled high with tendedons jelly beans and sparkles, and someone had stuck a sign on the mailbox that read, this way to eggcitement.
But Evie had other plans.
While the grown -ups arranged chocolate bunnies and Leo complained loudly about glitter in his socks, Evie quietly slipped on her shoes and crept towards the blackberry bushes.
She crouched at the secret gap and pushed the branches aside.
And there it was. The glint she had seen the day before.
Not gone this time, not blinking, or flickering.
But shimmering. Steady, golden.
Nestled in a patch of clover just beyond the brambles.
Sat an egg, not plastic, not painted.
wait, shining like the inside of a bell, Gold as the morning sun. Evie froze.
The world around her didn't go quiet, It went, still.
Like everything, every leaf, every bird, every breeze was holding its breath.
She stepped forward, One step closer, then another.
There, the egg didn't move.
But she had the strange ticklish feeling that it was maybe watching her or waiting.
Was that possible? Evie looked back toward the house.
She could hear Leo laughing in the distance and the faint clatter of mugs in the kitchen.
Somewhere someone blew a whistle and a bunch of little feet took off running.
The egg stayed where it was, gleaming softly in the clover.
She could call for someone, tell Aunt Myra, get a grown -up.
But she didn't. Something about the egg, the stillness around it, the way the air felt just a little warmer near it, made her think this wasn't meant for anyone else, just her.
Evie took a deep breath, pushed through the brambles, and stepped into the clearing.
As soon as her foot touched the grass, the egg shimmered brighter, like someone had struck a golden tuning fork.
She knelt beside it.
It was warm, warmer than the sun could have made it.
She reached out gently and placed her hand on the shell.
There was no sound, but inside her mind, something whispered, you've found me.
Are you ready? Evie didn't answer with words.
She nodded. And in the blink of a heartbeat, the world folded in around her.
And everything changed.
The golden light swirled around her.
Not bright. Not blinking.
Just soft. Like candlelight behind a curtain.
For a moment it felt like floating.
Then the warmth faded and her feet touched ground again.
But it wasn't the same ground.
Evie opened her eyes.
She was standing in a forest, but not like the one behind Aunt Myra's.
This place was misty and glowing as if someone had dusted every branch and leaf with magical sparkles.
The trees stretched impossibly tall.
Their trunks, striped with silver.
Loading pedals drifted through the air, though there was no wind to carry them.
Some pedals glowed faintly as they passed, pulsing with a gentle light.
Everything was quiet.
Evie took a cautious step forward. The moss beneath her shoes gave a soft squish, but didn't cling.
Then, came the voice, well, more like a thought, clear and smooth and echoing inside her.
What is stronger than strength but cannot be seen?
Evie stopped in her tracks.
Who said that? She whispered aloud, even though she knew.
The egg. She couldn't see it anymore, but she could feel it, still with her somehow, still watching.
What is stronger than strength but cannot be seen?
A riddle. She loved riddles.
She scribbled them in the margins of her notebooks and whispered them to Leo at bedtime when they visited, even though he always groaned.
Love? She guessed. A soft pulse in her chest. Hope?
A shimmer in the air.
Kindness? The ground beneath her feet grew warm for half a heartbeat.
She waited, but no more words came.
The petals around her started drifting faster.
A few began to spin, forming a ring in the air, then another, and another.
Before she could say anything else, the rings of petals turned inward, spiraling like a whirlpool, and opened.
Evy took one small step, and the moment she passed through, the world changed again.
Evie stepped into a clearing, surrounded by twisty trees with bark -like braided rope.
The air smelled like rain and something sweet, like marshmallows they would toast when they camped.
She turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.
That's when she saw him or more accurately he saw her.
A pair of long ears twitched behind a fern then a head popped up, fuzzy grey -brown with wide golden eyes and spectacles balanced on the bridge of a very twitchy nose.
Oh, bother, he muttered.
She's early. Evie blinked.
Um, hello? The hare stood up, very tall for a hare, brushed imaginary sparkles off his waistcoat, and gave a deep, slightly dramatic sigh.
Well, you're here now, so I suppose it begins.
I... sorry? Begins what?
He cleared his throat, pulled a scroll from somewhere – Evie wasn't sure where he didn't have pockets – and peered at it.
Name? Evie. He tapped the scroll with one paw and it snapped shut.
Right then Evie, welcome to the In Between.
I'm Tessel. Lead Guide, Riddle Interpreter, Pathkeeper, and… He paused, then added in a smaller voice, Temporary caretaker of chosen seekers.
Chosen... what now?
Tessel adjusted his spectacles.
Seekers... of the egg.
You touched it didn't you?
Evy nodded slowly. Then it's you, he said, As if she'd just confirmed she was the winner of something, And he wasn't sure whether to be happy or alarmed.
She took a step closer.
So, where am I? Why did the egg bring me here?
Tessel blinked at her.
Because it's Easter.
That doesn't explain anything.
He sighed again and began hopping slowly and thoughtfully down a mossy path.
Come along, explanations are best served with snacks.
Evie followed. Do you have snacks?
No, Tesle replied. But you brought jelly beans, didn't you?
Evie smiled. Maybe!
They walked in silence for a few moments, Tesle's long ears twitching at every rustle of leaves and Evie watching the way the floating petals drifted along behind them, like they were eavesdropping.
The mossy path twisted through trees that bent slightly toward her, as if they too were curious.
Finally, Tessel stopped beside a log shaped like a cinnamon roll and settled onto it with a sigh.
I suppose you're wondering why you're here?
He said. Yes, I am, Evy replied, perching on a smooth stone nearby.
Tessel reached into his satchel, which she was almost sure hadn't been there before, and pulled out a folded square of parchment.
He didn't open it. "'The egg appears once a year,' he said, voice low and serious.
Always different, always golden.
It chooses someone." Evie's eyebrow scrunched, but why me?
Tessell shrugged. It doesn't say, it never says.
But if you're chosen, the egg gives you a chance.
A chance to do what?
Tessell tilted his head to see what kind of power already lives inside you.
Evie frowned. I thought the egg was supposed to give you power.
Oh, it might, but power without kindness or patience or listening?
He shook his head. That's not power, that's noise.
Evvy was quiet. Somewhere in the distance a glowing beetle flew by, trailing sparkles like crumbs.
So what do i do? You'll be given three moments, Tessel said, finally unfolding the parchment and peering at it through his spectacles.
Not trials. Not tests.
Just moments. You won't always know when they're started, but you'll have to choose what to do.
Evie leaned forward. What kind of moments?
Tessel rolled up the parchment and tapped it against his nose.
Moments that ask for things that can't be measured.
Things like kindness, courage, knowing when to speak and when to listen.
Evie looked down at her shoes.
Is there a right answer?
Not always, said Tessel, but sometimes there's a right question.
That part gave her a shiver, but not the bad kind.
Ready? he asked. Evvy stood.
I think so. Good, said Tessel, hopping to his feet, because the first one is already waiting.
Tessel led her down a narrower path, one barely wide enough for his big feet and certainly not made for bouncing.
The trees he had seen were not so large.
The ear leaned closer.
The petals drifted more slowly.
Everything felt hushed.
After a short walk, they reached a small clearing.
Where a stone table shaped like a mushroom cap sat in the middle.
On top of the table sat… nothing.
Evi looked around. Is this it?
Tessel tapped the side of his nose.
Watch! A moment later a creature emerged from the underbrush.
It was small, round, and covered in fluff that stuck out in every direction, like a very worried dandelion.
It had no visible eyes, just a twitchy nose and tiny feet that squeaked softly on the moss.
It trudged toward the table and sighed, loudly.
Then it climbed up with great effort, heaved itself onto the stone surface, and plopped down in a heap.
Evie blinked. Is that a…?
A brumble, Tessel whispered, shy, stubborn, easily annoyed.
They don't usually come out unless they're hungry.
Evie. The Brumble groaned and kicked one fuzzy foot.
Evie stepped forward. Do I help it?
Tessell shrugged. You tell me.
Remember, moments, not instructions.
Evie thought for a second.
Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out the little paper pouch of jellybeans she'd saved from Aunt Myra's tea table.
She walked slowly toward the Brumble, careful not to make sudden moves.
Hey, she said gently, would you like something sweet?
The Brumble grumbled, I have jelly beans, Evie added.
They're not from here but they're nice.
You can have the orange ones, I don't like orange.
The bumble peeked one tiny eye out of its fluff, snatched a jellybean and...
very dramatically...
devoured it. Then it burped...
and smiled! Evie grinned.
The petals in the air swirled suddenly, catching a breeze that hadn't been there a second ago.
A few of them glowed as they circled above the Brumble's head, then drifted down and tucked themselves gently into its fur.
The Brumble squeaked once, turned in a circle, and waddled back into the trees, much faster than before.
Evie turned to Tessel.
That was it? Kindness isn't always complicated, he said, but it always matters.
He gave her a small smile.
One moment down, he said, two to go.
They walked on. The trees thinned a little and the path grew spongier underfoot, like stepping on pillows made of moss and memory.
Tiny chimes tinkled in the distance, though Evie couldn't see where they came from.
Tesle said nothing as they walked, which was unusual.
He usually had at least a few things to mumble about.
Eventually they reached a glade, ringed with low stones.
In the center sat a large puddle.
It shimmered like silver, and reflected the sky.
Even though it was mostly shaded.
Evie tilted her head.
Is it a wishing puddle?
Tesso shook his head.
It's a listening puddle.
Before she could ask what that meant, a cluster of small creatures entered the glade from the other side.
They looked like walking thistles, tiny round bodies with purple fuzz and leaf -like feet.
They were chirping and muttering as they surrounded the puddle.
In a voice like rustling paper, one stepped forward and said, It's broken again.
We can't hear anything.
Another thistle added, No songs, no stories, just silence.
Evie looked at Tessel.
He just nodded to the puddle.
and listened. Nothing, just the breeze, the thistles muttering and a soft drip from a nearby leaf.
Evie reached out a hand to touch the surface but stopped.
Instead, she looked up.
Above the glade near the edge of a branch hung something strange.
A single silken thread tangled with leaves, it stretched across the puddle, barely visible, almost like – she stepped back to get a better view.
Yes, it was a spider web, a very thin one, and in the very centre of the web, a leaf.
Heavy and drooping, just low enough to brush the water's surface.
Evie turned to the thistles.
I think it's not the puddle, she said.
It's the leaf. It's touching the water.
It's making it too still to reflect anything.
They all turned to look.
Could be, one muttered.
I didn't see it, said another.
Evie climbed onto a stone, reached up carefully, and brushed the leaf aside.
The web twanged, the leaf lifted, and the puddle began to sing.
It wasn't music exactly, more like echoes of stories drifting and whispering.
It sounded like laughter, lullabies, and someone remembering something they loved.
The thistles fell silent.
Then they began to sway, their tiny feet thumping softly in time.
Tessell smiled. You saw what others missed.
Evie smiled back. I just looked.
They left the singing puddle behind, the air full of its silvery hum.
Evie didn't speak for a while.
Tessel didn't either.
Eventually, he said, Last one ahead!
Evie nodded. The trees opened into a circle of soft grass lit from above by a skylight of pale blue sky.
In the middle stood a pedestal made of smooth stone and twining vines.
On top sat three glowing objects, each floating an inch above the surface.
Tessel stopped short of the pedestal, you go alone from here.
Evvie stepped forward. The objects spun slowly in place, soft light glowing from within.
The first looked like a pair of golden wings, shimmering, delicate, weightless.
A voice inside her whispered, Take these and you can fly wherever you want, whenever you want, no limits, no waiting.
The second was a pendant clear as glass filled with shifting silver mist. The whisper again.
Take this and you'll understand every language, people, animals, even the stars.
never be left out. You'll never be alone." The third was a book.
It pulsed with warm like someone had just closed it.
It had no title. The whisper continued, ""Take this and you'll never feel sadness again.
You'll always be calm, always content." Evie stared at them all.
She didn't move. They were beautiful, mysterious.
They made her heart ache a little, like they were offering something she didn't even know she wanted until now.
But then she thought of the Brumble, and the Puddle, and Tessel, and Aunt Myra and Leo, and the Robins gossipping on the fence, And she thought, what good is flying if there's nowhere to land?
What good is understanding if there's no one to listen?
What good is never feeling sad if it means never being truly happy either?
She reached out and gently pushed the pedestal.
Not hard, just enough.
The objects shimmered once, then folded in on themselves like soap bubbles.
Gone. Evie turned and walked back toward Tessel.
He stood there, watching her with wide shining eyes.
You didn't choose any of them, he said softly.
Evie shrugged. I already have everything I need.
Tessel bowed, deeply, ears brushing the moss.
Then you're ready. The light around them dimmed.
Not dark, just softer, like twilight settling in.
Tessel didn't say anything more.
He just reached into his satchel, pulled out something small and warm, and pressed it into Evie's hand.
1. A single golden feather, light as air and humming with the tiniest pulse of warmth, for remembering, he said.
Then the petals returned, swirling around her feet, lifting into the air, spinning faster and faster until she couldn't see the trees, or tessel or the pedestal anymore.
Just gold. And then she was back.
Standing in the clover, just past the blackberry brambles.
The sun had only shifted a little in the sky.
Birds chirped. Somebody shouted, found one in the distance.
Evie looked around.
No pedestal, no puddle, no tassel.
She opened her hand.
The golden feather was still there, glowing faintly.
She tucked it into her pocket then walked back through the bushes and toward the house.
The yard was still full of laughter.
Leo was crouched behind a wheelbarrow, grinning as he tossed an egg into his basket.
Aunt Myra spotted her from the porch. There you are.
She called her voice light but knowing.
Everything all right?
Evie nodded. Yeah, just needed a little air.
Aunt Myra smiled. That's what I thought.
Later, after the egg hunt and the cookies and the stories by the fire, Evie sat on the porch steps with her notebook.
She turned to a fresh page and wrote just one line.
The golden egg doesn't give you power.
It helps you remember the kind you already have. Then she slipped the notebook into her backpack beneath the golden feather and smiled.
If you're still awake, it's the perfect time to whisper something kind to yourself.
Take a deep breath and in your mind or in a soft voice say these gentle words I notice small things that others might miss.
Kindness lives in my heart and I can share it freely.
It's okay to not know the answer right away.
I am proud of who I am and I'm learning every day.
Tomorrow is a new day, full of wonder, adventure, and the chance to create something, all my own.
I am calm, relaxed and peaceful.
Good night, sleep tight.
Thank you.
