this is ria welcome to little stories for tiny people i never went to sleep away camp as a kid i'm making up for that with this story let's hear it it's called take it easy on the sleep raft Take it away, Finley and Rory.
Remember, there are no pictures.
You have to imagine them in your mind.
You can imagine them however you want.
Okay, here we go. Before arriving at Woolly Adventure's summer camp, Lambden had never been to a sleepaway camp.
His mother usually signed him up for day camps that suspiciously resembled school.
But Woolly Adventure's was a proper summer camp, complete with a swimming quarry.
A rope's course. Disappointing food.
Is it me or does this alfalfa taste like it was in some sheep's shoe for a week?
Wilderness excursions.
Showers with just two settings.
Either scalding hot.
My wool is on fire.
Or ice cold. I can't feel my face.
And cabins housing eight young sheep apiece.
On his first day, Lambdon learned to tie 16 types of knots, hiked three miles to a waterfall, and played a rowdy game of sharks and minnows.
At lights out, he collapsed into the top bunk after a quick shower.
I can't feel my face.
And was out cold the moment his head hit the pillow.
It was a great relief.
Though he'd pored over the camp brochure for weeks with mounting excitement, he'd also wondered whether he'd be able to fall asleep in such an unfamiliar place.
place. Lambden had always struggled to fall asleep.
There had been many nights when he laid in bed, the very picture of a peaceful sheep, while his brain hurtled from one idea to the next for hours.
All that changed a few years back when he discovered a mysterious button beneath his pillow that, when pressed, delivered him to a magical sleep train.
It never failed to lull him.
He'd come to rely on it, which was fine at home, but boarding the sleep train required the button, and Lambden couldn't bring it to camp.
So you can imagine his relief when he climbed out from his top bunk after the first night, refreshed and ready for another packed day in the great outdoors.
The day started strong when Lambden made fast friends with a sheep named Hoofbert.
They bonded over their matching opinions of the wheatgrass porridge at breakfast. Oh, it tastes like tree bark, and not the good kind.
The two sheep shared more laughs throughout the morning, then paired up for the seven -legged race at midday.
But the day took a turn when after lunch, during capture the flag, Lambden hid in what seemed like a perfect secluded spot amongst a patch of ferns, only to discover, after breaking into full -body hives, that it was, according to Nurse Whipperwool, Poison whistle -fern.
You poor boy. I've told the management.
If you ask me, you should remove it from the property entirely.
Pull those ferns up by the roots.
But they don't ask me, do they?
Now where did I put that ointment?
Nurse Whippoorwill found the ointment.
But it did little. little.
Lambden scrabbled at his itchy wool as he lay in the cot in the nurse's cabin.
Do you have any Poison Fern Fighter 3000?
That's what my mom gets.
It works great. Nurse Whippoorwool clucked her tongue.
My dear, Poison Fighter Fern 5000 thousand has all kinds of unpronounceable ingredients.
If you ask me, it shouldn't even be available for purchase.
Lambden spent the rest of the day alone in the camp's mud pit, which reduced the itch to a tolerable level.
It was a stark departure from the breakneck speed bead of the previous day, and when Lambden climbed the ladder to his top bunk that evening after a quick rinse in the shower, he buzzed with unspent energy.
Also, the itch returned with full force.
There is no way I'm falling asleep like this.
Worse still, one of the young young sheep, likely wallaby, snored, but not continuously.
Just enough to jolt Lambdan awake each time he started dozing.
Another sheep murmured, They didn't even save me one slice, and the new apple turnip cakes were my favorite.
It was one of the most fitful sleeps of his life, and when he fell into his bunk the next night, after a day inside doing crafts due to a rainstorm, he admitted something to himself in a whisper.
I'd do anything to board the sleep train.
Just as he finished the N in train, he heard a familiar voice.
voice. Lamden? Oh, Lamden?
I'm delirious. I've lost my mind.
I've... Lamden, dear, we are boarding momentarily.
This can't be, Lamden muttered as he sat up and peeled back his pillow.
I don't even have a...
a button? There, sitting atop the ratty old camp sheet, was a gleaming, rectangular button.
Lambdon's cabin mates were in bed, but not asleep.
It would be lights out in a minute or two.
Until then, they goofed around and threw pillows at one another.
Lambdin was grateful for the noise.
It allowed him to deal with the towering moose without attracting attention.
What are you... I mean, how did you...
Why is there a button under my camp pillow?
Lambdin, we at the sleep crew keep careful tabs on our most serious sleepers.
By the way, it's dreadful about the whistle fern.
life's doing. Landon stared at the button in disbelief.
He didn't know whether to be outraged or to say, much better, thanks.
He opted to say nothing.
The moose barreled ahead.
Given your sad predicament, we'd like to offer you a free trial of our Sleep Crew Vacation Package.
It comes with this temporary button which will deliver you to peaceful bedtime journeys.
Hey, who's that talking?
Lambone, is that you?
Oh no. Lambden shoved his pillow back in place, muffling the moose's voice as she prattled on.
Uh, sorry, I was, um, practicing a phone call I have to make.
I'm more exhausted than I thought.
Practicing a phone call?
Luckily, no one noticed.
Lights out! Willoughby called and flicked the switch, plunging the cabin into darkness.
We are now boarding.
Do press your temporary button to join us.
Lambden, chill out about your phone call, man.
There has to be a catch, Lambden thought with a yawn.
There's always a catch. We are now boarding.
Maybe there was a catch, but there was no time to find it.
He peeled back his pillow and pressed the button.
A great, swirling cloud streamed upwards.
Lambden hit the ground on a slope and went tumbling downhill, gaining speed as he rolled.
He toppled over rocks and tree roots until he went flying off a grassy bank into a river.
It was then that he took full stock of where he was and where he wasn't.
Fairly certain this means I'm not boarding the sleep train.
He staggered ashore, his limbs leaden from tiredness, his pajamas soaked.
He saw the brilliant full moon above and heard the towering moose's voice nearby.
Larissa, that is a fetching pair of slippers you're wearing.
Lambden sighed and trudged towards the sound.
After the water landing, Lambdin had expected a boat.
Not the sleep cruise.
It wouldn't fit on this river.
But something seaworthy.
Something with heft to it.
Not a raft. Lambdin, I just knew you'd join us.
The moose trilled when he stepped up to the riverbank.
A large, rectangular, inflated raft floated in the water.
A uniformed donkey kept it from floating away in the current, with a rope clutched firmly between his teeth.
Dozens of sleepy passengers leaned against one another, seated in trim rows.
Lambden's head pounded, as if his heart had somehow migrated upward. word. Need.
Sleep. But did it really have to be on this flimsy raft?
He imagined the raft hitting a boulder, invisible from above the water, but big enough to throw the raft off kilter, capsize it perhaps, sending the passengers scattering in all directions.
Lamden, the moose said with a searching look I haven't seen you blink in an unsettling amount of time It's a known symptom of profound exhaustion Lamden squinted at the raft in the water I'd really prefer to board the sleep train The moose frowned Lamden, my dear, I went over this in our conversation through your temporary button.
Huh, Lamden thought of how he'd pushed his pillow back in place, muffling the moose's words.
Apparently, they'd been important.
Her eyes widened and took on a pitying expression.
Does poison whistle phone affect one's hearing?
regardless as i said one of the charms of our vacation package is that it sends you on a surprise sleep vehicle every evening seeing lambden's expression she went on lambden you do need to improve your listening skills now then come aboard relax this river well it's positively lazy, and you couldn't be in better hands.
Paolo is a world -class river guide.
Lambden glanced at the raft, lilting gently in the tranquil river.
At the back stood an oversized raccoon, wearing a captain's hat and holding a long paddle.
The raccoon yawned, which made Lambden yawn.
World class, eh? The worldliest. The classiest. His head throbbed.
He swayed lightly, without meaning to.
He recalled his camp counselor saying tomorrow would be a long day of rock Rock climbing.
Really need sleep. Lambden stepped forward and put a hoof on the raft. Ah, I almost forgot.
The towering moose lifted something brilliant orange from a pile beside her.
It's required by the river authorities.
Just a formality. Completely unnecessary, of course.
Lamden stared at the moose She stared back at him With a placid smile Beneath mischievous eyes He accepted the life jacket From her hoof And stepped aboard the sleep raft Fuzzy waited Or whisper thin silk Waited please Lamden gratefully accepted the blanket from Martleby, the sleep crew's porcupine employee, who moved about the raft, distributing blankets.
Fuzzy waited, or whispered.
Lambdon was seated at the end of a row beside a large, sleeping warthog who used his lifejacket as a pillow.
The raft had appeared insubstantial from shore, but Lambdon was surprised to find it felt quite durable.
He sank into his seat, which felt like a firm yet inviting pillow.
As the raft shoved off from shore, he nestled beneath his blanket and stared up at the dark sky speckled with stars, the perfectly round moon, and the woolly charcoal gray clouds.
He inhaled a deep, relaxing breath that smelled of honey and lemon, no doubt emitted from Delilah's mist machine somewhere on the raft. the raft. Lambden shifted his head enough to glimpse a band of jauntily dressed otters perched on the perimeter of one of the raft's corners.
The towering moose stood in another corner holding a microphone.
Guess hello and welcome to the newest and dare I say sleepiest addition to our fleet of vehicles.
The animals who were still awake murmured their approval.
This extraordinary raft was designed to put our passengers as close to the water as possible.
Indeed, Lambden saw several passengers seated on the raft's outer edges lazily dipping their paws into the river.
Drink up that dazzlingly ripe full moon, and settle in for a moment as we - Ah!
The moose's eyes lit up.
Lambdon could see her peering off the side of the raft into the dark.
Paolo has gotten us here in record time.
Our first performance begins now.
The moose clapped her hooves together and at once, the band of otters began a new song at the same time that the raft came to a complete stop in the water.
The river current seemed to push against it for several seconds, before giving up and detouring around its sides.
Six warm lights appeared off the right side of the raft, and the sleepy passengers leaned to get a look.
Are those pelicans?
said a bespectacled possum.
Are those rats sitting on top of pelicans?
cried a bewhiskered muskrat.
Are those rats sitting on top of pelicans wielding fishing poles?
cried a... You know what?
It doesn't matter who said it.
It was all true. There were six pelicans, perfectly still in the water, arranged in a circle, each with both a lantern and a rat fisherman on its back.
Immediately, the rats began catching fish, one after another.
Oh, wow. They're not fishing.
They're catching. It seemed that each time a rat cast its line into the rippling water, it came up with a fish, and each fish was promptly gulped down by a pelican.
This is making me hungry, said a seagull.
This is making me uncomfortable, said an angelfish circling a bowl.
Lambden yawned heavily as he watched this strangely entrancing scene.
The movements were orchestrated, choreographed The rats' casts were perfect arcs over the moonlit water Their hooks sank beneath the surface for a moment or two Before their lines became taut with struggle Over and over again, fish emerged with tails whipping and over and over again, the pelicans snapped them up.
Passengers dropped off to sleep all over the place, some slumping over the raft's sides, their tails and paws dipping into the river.
The moose, bathed in moonlight, stood and clapped her hooves once more.
the raft instantly floated along with the current, leaving the rats, the pelicans, and the fish behind.
Ahead of them, the river widened, and the sky along with it, as the trees receded from view.
The moon seemed to triple in size.
It's not possible, Lambden murmured.
He could barely keep his eyes from closing.
Guests, prop up those drooping eyelids.
Paolo has just given me the signal that we've reached the widest and deepest section of the river.
Soon, we'll hit a fork, but before we do, you will not want to miss our next enchanted performance.
performance. Lambden forced himself to follow the moose's instructions, but he could only get his eyes half open.
It felt as if the weight of the last few days was crashing down on him all at once.
So sleepy. He startled, fully awake, upon seeing whales in the river.
Oh, great. I'm so tired I'm seeing things.
But the other passengers saw whales too.
What? How? Whales live in the ocean, not rivers.
I read about it in volume seven of my encyclopedia book set entitled Astonishing Creatures of Land and Sea by Barnabas Twinkle Dove.
What about Astonishing Creatures of the Air?
I have a different book set for that.
The whales, what with their graceful leaping and general General Beauty acted upon the sleep raft passengers like some kind of tonic.
One by one, they dropped in their seats, heads lolling to the side.
Lambden was no exception.
Cannot stay awake, he muttered.
His final thought was, What a relief.
I will catch up on sleep after all.
His mind quieted. We're headed straight for the waterfall, is what Hoofbert yelled heartily in Lambden's dream, into which he had swiftly fallen.
It was odd, because in the dream, Lambden was back at camp, swimming in the quarry.
There was no waterfall at the quarry.
Still, Hoofbert was emphatic.
I said, we're headed straight for the waterfall.
Huh? Lambden opened his eyes to see that the frenzied creature was not Hoofbert.
It was a theatrical pheasant who stood on her seat, neck stretched to its limit, wings waving frantically.
Around her, passengers screamed and gasped in alarm.
This was supposed to be a lazy river.
This river is downright energetic.
The towering moose stood, peering over the passengers' heads, eyes wild.
Uh, quick! Someone wake up Paolo!
Apparently, the whale performance had been a bit too relaxing.
Because in addition to putting to sleep most of the passengers, it also put to sleep Paolo, the world -class river guide.
He had drifted off precisely as the sleep raft approached the fork in the river.
The raft had taken a wrong turn, and it was now, as the pheasant so clearly stated, headed straight for a waterfall.
Lambden looked first ahead and saw the drop -off looming.
Then he looked back to Paolo, who was being pawed at by a cat in striped pajamas.
The captain jolted awake with the look of alarm.
He immediately began paddling against the current.
Oh, Giz, hello, the moose said, glancing over her shoulder at the oncoming drop.
As you know, we at the sleep crew are very serious about safety in addition to sleep.
And that is why we responsibly distributed life jackets.
At this time, it would be sensible to make sure your life jacket is firmly snapped and tightened.
The moose strapped on her own life jacket with a shaky smile.
Lambden already had his life jacket fastened, so he looked to his seatmate.
Hey. Hey, wake up, he said, shaking the warthog.
It was no use. How can you sleep through this?
The raft was in absolute chaos.
Despite Paolo's efforts, it drifted closer to the edge.
Lambden hurriedly grabbed the warthog's life jacket and yanked it around the massive creature.
Ugh, finally, he cried as he managed to get it round the beast's shoulders, only to discover the straps had no clasps.
They were just long strips of canvas with frayed ends, as if an animal had chewed through them.
Uh, Gaz, hello? Let's all grab hold of the nifty straps on either sides of our seats, shall we?
We're going over! It's happening!
Cried the theatrical pheasant.
How am I gonna get this buckled?
This is an exciting adventure, is it not?
The moose trilled. Lambden was so beyond exhausted, it took a moment for him to even hear what she'd said.
It's an exciting adventure, is it not?
That's it. A knot. I'll tie a knot.
After all, he'd just learned how to tie sixteen of them the other day.
So as the front end of the raft jutted out over the edge of the waterfall, and the sound grew deafening, And the passengers gripped their straps.
Lambden quickly tied a double fisherman's knot, securing the warthog's life jacket.
There. Then he grabbed hold of his own seat straps.
It's possible I should have taken my chances in the bunk bed.
And over the waterfall, they went.
I am rather alarmed by this.
This was not in the brochure.
It's incredible how time can change speed.
The birthday party you've been looking forward to for months zips by in a flash, while the wait for a letter in the mail takes years.
The second or two that it took for the sleep raft to travel all the way down the waterfall, well, it felt like an eternity.
Everyone held their breath.
Lambden gripped his straps tighter.
The birds and the bats on the raft, including the pheasant, flew out of their seats into the night.
And finally, at long last, they landed at the bottom with a tremendous splash.
The passengers were thrown upwards in their seats, then came crashing right back down with a thump.
Lambden, his wool soaked through, turned to see Paolo, now fully alert following his ill -timed nap, brandish his paddle as a knight would his sword. After a few tremendous pulls away from the churning cauldron at the base of the waterfall, he guided the raft into a placid, gently flowing section of the river.
yes hello i do hope you enjoyed that spine tingling segment of our river rafting tour all planned of course we at the sleep crew do aim to make your heart quicken before easing you to sleep lambden nearly chuckled but instead he was overtaken by a yawn All around him, passengers were settling into their seats and nodding off.
The warthog beside Lamden was still asleep.
The river had become lazier than at any point.
Now remember, this is a magical sleep raft complete with our proprietary sparkling mist technology as well as enchanted clouds.
A mist appeared over the river, a twinkling navy blue mist that drifted over the raft and hung there as if pinned as the vessel continued to glide through the water.
The mist opened in its center to reveal a circle of sky with three cartoonishly perfect cotton ball clouds visible above.
Wow. Beautiful. I enjoy clouds.
The otters struck up a new song and in time, with the tempo of the music, little sparkles of pastel blue dropped from the clouds and began spiraling downward. Are those moths?
They are. They're enchanted moths.
Enchanted moths? Huh.
Lambden stared up as hundreds of fluttering, glowing blue moths swirled down to the raft itself and danced through the air above the passengers who responded by smiling sleepily.
Look, they love me.
yawning heavily, or instantly falling asleep.
For Lambden, it was not instant, but it was close.
He took a last look at the moths flitting about, sending out sparkles from their wings, then closed his eyes.
His mind quieted. Lambone.
Hey, Lambone. Huh? Lambdon blinked awake.
Was it even dawn? Just a whisper of sunlight came in the small windows of the cabin.
Lambone, you up? Uh, yeah.
Yeah, I am. He sat up in his his bunk and hit his head on the ceiling.
Ow. But otherwise, he noticed he felt great, well -rested, and ready for another day at camp.
Come on, we're all going to breakfast. Lambden headed out with his bunkmates.
He'd spend the entire day outdoors.
He would avoid secluded areas covered with ferns.
And that evening, at bedtime, he'd press his temporary button.
Maybe. I hope you loved this story.
Little Stories for Tiny People is written, performed, formed, and produced by me, Rhea Pector.
My in -house tech director, Peter Kay, runs my website and puts my stories on the internet for all of you to enjoy.
Thank you to my Little Stories Premium subscribers for supporting my work.
If you'd like to get more of the stories you love, access to Little Stories for Sleep, an exclusive bedtime podcast, and add free listening, join or gift a subscription by visiting littlestoriespremium .com.
Thank you to Finley and Rory for the super important reminder message at the beginning.
And thank you to the many premium subscribers who supplied sound effects used in this story.
Thank you to JJ, Noah, Olivia, Dante, Lola, Charlotte, Summer, Magnolia, Lana, Kai, Amaya, Ruby, Roxy, Teddy, Avery, Kira, Audrey, Maya, Ivy, Hazel, Ayla, Lily, Alma, and Penina.
And thank you, as always, for listening in.
