Worry Mail At The Village Post Office, A Sleep Story

You discover a cosy village post office with a difference - villagers and tourists can send letters and care packages to people who need love and kindness at a tough time in their lives, all for a penny! You explore the stationery shop and sit down with a hot drink to help someone in need. Perfect for lovers of slow, slice-of-life stories with a heartwarming end. This story is designed for sleep, and has no background sounds. You can add your own with the inbuilt player!

Transcript

Worry Mail at the Village Post Office Any day is a good day to visit a village square.

No matter what the season,

There always seems to be that air of cosiness,

Doesn't there?

Is it the quaint shops,

All higgledy-piggledy,

Lined up along a cobbled street?

Or maybe it's how proud and pretty the community flowerbeds look around the bandstand.

The people,

Though,

That's what really makes a village.

All the characters that weave their own little tales about how they know so-and-so,

Or what this shop used to be decades ago.

Never shy to nod their head,

And wish you a good morning or lovely weather,

Isn't it?

Even if you're a new face.

And on this particular day,

As you're making your way past the sewing shop,

The haberdashery,

And the little bakery with its delicious,

Bready smells wafting out of the door a group of teenagers just opened,

You happen across an old-fashioned post office.

You know the kind.

Not the industrial-feeling city centre post office,

With its concrete exterior and sleek,

Modern posters.

But the oldy-worldy kind.

A weathered sort of brick building,

With a cheerful red awning over the front door and window.

It looks more gift shop than mail centre.

Painted on a wooden sandwich board in wobbly cursive is stationary supplies,

Delicious coffee,

And trinkets.

Three of your favourite things nestled under one quaint little roof.

Yes,

Please.

You have a little bit of spending money tucked away in your bag to treat yourself with.

After all,

That's what this little holiday is all about,

Isn't it?

Just a little nose-round.

See if you can find a nice postcard to add to your collection,

Or a fresh new notepad.

You push the door inward and the bell tinkles to announce your arrival.

From sunny and blustery outside,

To dim and cosy,

You take a quick look around to see what you make of the place.

It's not really like any post office you've been in.

Although it reminds you of the little one on the top of that steep hill in town where you grew up.

Shelves from floor to ceiling,

Bursting with rolls of tape,

Balls of twine,

Envelopes in all sizes,

And pens in every colour.

An old lady inspects little packages of washi tape,

Deciding which to buy as a gift perhaps.

One of those spinning stands featuring funny cards and postcards all by local artists seems to have attracted a boy and a girl.

They're stifling giggles at one of the silly doodles on the front.

And the inviting smells of coffee and pastries.

You can honestly say you've never stepped foot in a post office with its own little tea room.

Over the other side is where food and drinks are served,

Presumably.

There are tables and chairs,

None of which match,

Dotted about in a cramped,

Cosy sort of way.

Canisters of loose-leaf tea all stacked neatly along a shelf behind the counter.

A glass display proudly showing off homemade cakes,

Danishes and cookies.

One of those posh coffee machines whirring after having delivered a frothy-looking coffee to a customer.

They're carrying it over to one of the tables.

And there's what you'd expect from a post office,

Of course.

A row of high counters with a pane of glass in front of each.

Surrounded by leaflets for currency exchange and postage prices,

That sort of thing.

There's something a little funny about the one in the corner,

Though.

It's painted a different colour to the rest.

A whimsical purple.

On the countertop is a little box with a slot in the top.

It's got something written on it.

You move closer so you can make it out.

Worries.

How odd.

And now you see it.

A large cork notice board covering the back wall.

Curiously,

It has WORRYMAIL COMMUNITY NOTICE BOARD written across the top in big handwritten loopy font.

What is that?

You take a few steps closer to the board,

Instinctively clasping your hands behind your back as you lean in.

As though the act of reading someone's private thoughts should be done with reverence.

The notes are all written in the same neat swooping handwriting,

But each on a different kind of pastel paper or card,

Carefully pinned with a little silver thumbtack.

Some are lined,

Others dotted or plain.

There's even one written on the back of a recipe card.

The ingredients for a treacle tart peeking through faintly behind the words.

Each card has a number in the corner.

17,

42,

58.

That one has a tiny drawing of a teacup at the bottom.

You scan the notes,

Not in a nosy way,

But with a kind of gentle curiosity.

31.

I've just moved here and I haven't made any friends yet.

I feel silly for thinking I would fit in quickly.

49.

My cat passed and my house feels so empty without her.

12.

My grandchild is struggling at school and I don't know how to help.

Some are longer.

Some are just a single line.

One simply says,

5.

I feel lonely.

Your throat catches a little.

It's strange,

Isn't it,

How such a small sentence can feel so large?

There's an instruction card too,

To help you make sense of all this.

It reads,

The Worry Mail Community Notice Board is our village's way to give back to those who might need a helping hand to feel better in tough times.

It's anonymous and available for anyone to use.

We hope that it spreads kindness and love to all.

You never know what someone is going through.

How to use For worriers 1.

If you have a worry,

Please write on a slip on the purple counter and pop it in the box.

2.

Each night,

Our clerks will write up your worry and pin it to the notice board the following day.

This is to keep all handwriting anonymous so you don't feel shy or silly to share and so we can assign your worry a number.

3.

Anyone who passes through our post office can choose your card off the board and it can be chosen an unlimited number of times during the week that it remains on the board.

We give each note a week to make it fair for all worriers.

4.

Then keep an eye on your letterbox.

Givers send postcards,

Greeting cards,

Letters and care packages through us and we forward it on anonymously to you.

For givers 1.

The world can feel tough and unfair and you can help spread love and kindness to any of our worriers.

Simply choose a worry card from the board either by noting down their number or taking a photo with your phone.

2.

Think about what the person might need right now.

A long letter to share your experience,

A cheerful greeting card or even a small care package to show you care.

3.

Once you have written your letter or packaged your parcel take it to the purple counter.

Our designated worry clerk will process your postage and put it aside,

Ready to be mailed.

To encourage givers and worriers we have contributed to the price of worry mail and subsidised the cost of stamps meaning the price of all worry mail is one penny for letters and five pennies for packages.

Thank you worriers and givers.

We appreciate you making the world a better place.

What a lovely idea.

Have you ever seen something like this before?

Well now you know exactly what to spend some of your money on.

You glance around the shop again.

Nobody is watching you.

The old lady has chosen her washi tapes and is now chatting to the girl behind the till.

Laughing softly about how she always buys more than she needs.

The kids are gone and someone else is admiring the cakes under a glass dome.

Maybe,

Just maybe,

You could pick one.

Offer something gentle.

Something kind.

Something that could let a stranger know they've been heard.

You select one from the board.

Number 31,

The one about making new friends.

And scribble the number gently on a piece of paper and pop it in your coat pocket.

And you turn your attention to the stationary corner.

It's a treasure trove.

Racks of notebooks in every size and colour.

Stickers in neat little packets,

Some with animals,

Others with flowers or stars.

There are writing sets too.

Matching paper and envelopes.

Some with botanical prints.

Others with sleepy looking bears and rabbits in woolly scarves.

You pick up a little bundle wrapped in twine.

A writing kit with pressed flower designs and a pencil that smells faintly of lavender.

Maybe just one trinket.

You spot a little enamel pin shaped like a teapot with TAKE THINGS SLOW written in loopy gold letters.

It feels right.

A good luck charm for someone starting fresh.

After you've chosen your items,

You make your way over to the tea room side and order a hot drink and a toasted tea cake with butter.

The woman behind the counter gives you a warm smile as she prepares your tray.

You sit down at a corner table,

The seat cushion mismatched and a little squishy.

Your drink steams gently in front of you and outside you can just see the wind tugging at the edges of the red awning and the busy street bustling with villagers and tourists.

You take out the crumpled paper from your pocket and read it again,

Carefully,

Before setting it down beside your stationery.

Then you begin to write.

Not rushed.

Not perfectly.

Just sincerely.

You picture the person behind the note.

Imagine them standing in a hallway of doors,

Unsure which to knock on.

Their hands in their pockets,

Fidgeting with nerves and hopes and a small crumpled bus ticket.

So you write them a letter like you'd want to receive.

Kind.

Steady.

Like a cuppa in envelope form.

You start with,

Hi,

I saw your worry today.

I just wanted to say,

I think you're doing something really brave.

And you carry on from there,

Talking about how beginnings often feel like endings at first.

How unfamiliar streets become landmarks.

You tell them how courage isn't loud or flashy.

It's just showing up anyway.

You seal the note and tuck a sticker on the back.

A tiny gold star.

Because obviously they deserve one.

By now your drink is half gone and the butter on your tea cake has melted into sweet glistening craters.

You take a bite.

Warm.

Comforting.

Exactly what today needed.

When you're ready,

You turn to the purple counter.

The woman behind it,

Cardigan sleeve slightly pushed up,

Gives you a knowing look and slides the wooden box toward you.

You slip the envelope into the gap.

It makes a soft sound as it lands,

Like a page turning.

One penny,

She says.

You give her the coin.

It feels like part of a ritual.

Small,

Sacred and gentle.

She offers you a receipt,

Which you take politely,

Only to discover it has a quote typed across the bottom.

Every small kindness is a seed.

You never know what might bloom.

You smile,

Folding it carefully and sliding it into your pocket.

Not for records,

Just to keep.

As you head toward the door,

You pass by the notice board again.

Your eyes flick up.

31 is still there.

But now you notice there's a tiny golden sticker on the corner.

Someone else must have responded before you did.

And maybe someone else will again.

You step outside.

The red awning flaps softly.

And the wind is cooler than before,

But not cold.

Just brisk enough to remind you that you're real,

You're here,

And you did something kind today.

As you walk back down the cobbled path,

You wonder what worry you'd write if it were you.

You imagine what advice someone might give you.

And you wonder who you'll write to next.

Because you know that you will be back to the village post office.

Reviews

I had to listen three times to get to the end; it's a sweet, wonderful story for falling asleep!

Absolutely brilliant story. Loved it. And I can feel and smell and see and hear and taste it all. Brilliant and beautifully read. Thank you