The Sprites Of Moonacre Farm | Sleep Story For Kids

Offer gratitude to the household spirits who protect your family in tonight’s folklore-inspired bedtime story.

Sleep & Sorcery presents Arthur’s Corner: Magical Bedtime Stories for Young People. Inspired by fantasy, fairytales, and folklore, and using guided visualization, this bedtime story is especially designed for children but can be enjoyed by listeners of all ages. You can find more bedtime stories – for any age – at Sleep & Sorcery… this story is called the Sprits of Moonacre Farm.

In tonight’s cozy bedtime story, you are finishing up your chores on a beautiful day at Moonacre Farms. As the sun gets ready to set, you perform the final task of the day: leaving offerings for the helpful sprites who share the farm with you. You believe in these household fairies, even if you’ve never seen one – until now. It begins to rain, and the happy sprites make you a cozy place to snuggle up in the barn while you wait out the storm.

Music: Ursa Major by Deep Inside, via Epidemic Sound

Transcript

Offer gratitude to the household spirits who protect your family in tonight's folklore-inspired bedtime story. Sleep and Sorcery presents Arthur's Corner, Magical bedtime stories for young people inspired by fantasy, Fairy tales, And folklore. Using guided visualization, This bedtime story is especially designed for children, But can be enjoyed by listeners of all ages. You can find more bedtime stories for any age at Sleep and Sorcery. This story is called The Sprites of Moonacre Farm. In tonight's cozy bedtime story, You are finishing up your chores on a beautiful day at Moonacre Farm. As the sun gets ready to set, You perform the last task of the day, Leaving offerings for the helpful sprites who share the farm with you. You believe in these household fairies, Even if you've never seen one, Until now. It begins to rain, And the happy sprites make you a cozy place to snuggle up in the barn while you wait out the storm. Before our story begins, Take a moment to settle in and get comfy. This is a story to help you fall asleep. All you have to do is listen to my voice, And feel free to close your eyes and fall asleep before the story is over. You can always come back and finish it another time. Let's take a couple of deep breaths together to help you relax and tune in to the world of the story. Breathe in, Filling up your belly like a balloon. And breathe out, Breathe in, Breathe out. One more time, Breathe in, And breathe out. With your eyes closed, Relax your body and begin to use your imagination. Imagine that you are part of the story I'm about to tell. In fact, You're the main character. Use your imagination to see pictures in your mind. Like the sun setting over a field of emerald corn. To hear the sounds of the story, Like the scurrying of little feet in the hayloft. To feel the sensations in the story, Like the moisture in the air just before it rains. To smell the smells in the story, Like the scent of ripe strawberries in the garden. To taste the flavors of the story, Like the taste of fresh bread with butter and honey. Now, Are you ready to visit Moon Acre Farm? When you live on a farm, You get used to working hard. Your home isn't just where you hang your hat, Or where you play or sleep. It's like a little world of its own, Which yields plants to feed your family and neighbors, And which houses a whole host of animals. You share this wide tract of land with chickens, Cows, Pigs, Sheep, Ducks, And horses. To live on a farm means to understand how things grow and thrive. You live your life by the seasons. You know when to plant seeds, How to care for them, And when to harvest. You can identify almost any plant in the garden, Or bird in the sky. You can feel changes in the weather coming in your body, Like the tingling in your bones that you get when it's going to rain soon, Or the prickly feeling at the back of your neck when the first frost is due. Living here means living in harmony with the forces of the world, Be they animal, Vegetable, Mineral, Or otherwise. Now that you've grown up a bit, You are big and strong enough to help with some of the daily chores. Things like feeding the chickens, Or occasionally milking the cow with some assistance. Mostly, You toddle after the grown-ups as they till the soil, Observing the careful way they interact with the land. Sometimes, You get to ride along in the pickup truck full of fresh eggs, Bottled milk, And newly harvested vegetables and grains to the farmer's market in town. You love going to the market because there are always so many interesting people there. You get to see what grows on other farms, Even swapping bundles of your home-grown carrots or turnips for a neighbor's Swiss chard or vibrant purple eggplants. But there is one task that you've been asking to do for some time, And many say it's the most important task to be done on Moonacre Farm. And today, The grown-ups have finally agreed that you're responsible enough to handle it. You see, Beyond the diverse array of flora and fauna that inhabit the land, Those recognizable crops and barnyard animals, Moonacre Farm is home to something of a more exotic, Even supernatural creature, The domovoi. These are the tiny, Helpful sprites who share the farm with you and have, Ever since your family first settled on this plot of land. Domovoi are household spirits, Like elves or fairies, Who are connected with one family. Even if that family moves house or crosses an entire ocean, The domovoi will follow them. They are part of the family, In a way. You've always heard that your great-great-grandmother brought them over with her from the old country. Whenever you hear that story, You imagine, With a giggle, A host of impish little people with pointy ears and bushy beards stowing away in the cargo hold of a ship, Being tossed to and fro on the waves. Whoever has domovoi in their family is lucky, Your elders always say, For they are benevolent, Kind, Protective creatures who look out for the household they occupy. They protect the family against danger and illness, Bringing health and prosperity, And even contribute to the upkeep of the property and the upbringing of children and animals. If your domovoi are happy, They will mend broken things in the household while everyone else is asleep. They will sweep cobwebs from the corners, Collect bundles of kindling for the hearth, Keep foxes away from the chicken coop, And encourage the corn to grow higher and higher throughout the season. You've seen even stranger things happen on the farm, Things that your elders ascribe to the sprites. One morning, When you went to brush your favorite pony, Daffodil, You found her palomino coat already shining like it had been brushed thoroughly the night before. And not only that, But her silky blonde mane had been threaded into dozens of braids, Each with sprigs of lavender and forget-me-not woven throughout. And then there was the year of the very poor grain harvest. When the family worried you wouldn't have enough to get through the winter, Let alone to sell at the market. But then, As you helped to remove the blighted wheat from the fields, Hurrying to plant another crop, You found a little gold coin barely covered by the soil. On further inspection, There was another solid gold coin under a thin layer of soil next to each and every failed shaft of wheat. It was enough to make up for the season's misfortune, Though no one in town recognized the coins and their unusual markings. Needless to say, It's very important to keep the domafoy happy by showing gratitude and humility. Every night, When the first slice of bread is cut at the supper table, It is wrapped in white cloth and saved for the domafoy. Whenever there is fresh cream or butter available, A portion is reserved. Any leftovers from the table are heaped together on a plate to be served to the sprites. This, Then, Is the chore that you will overtake this evening, The all-important doling out of offerings to the domafoy. Should it be forgotten or done improperly, Who knows what the little sprites might do? If they feel unappreciated, They may stop mending broken things or protecting the chickens. They may leave Moonacre Farm altogether and find a better family to care for. That is why your new job is so important, And why you've had to wait so long to take it over. By now, You've seen it done many times, Following adults around the farm as they carefully lay the offerings in distinct locations. Tonight, You're going to do it all by yourself. The sun is just beginning to droop lazily in the western sky as you head inside to wash up for supper. It's been a beautiful spring day to be out in the fields. The air is cool and mildly breezy, Making the long day's work feel much less strenuous. Still, You've done enough to work up quite the appetite. Before entering the large stone farmhouse, However, You turn back to look at the sky painted with such dazzling hues of the oncoming sunset. Something about the clouds, Thick periwinkle and gold about the edges, And the tiny beads of moisture in the air. It's going to rain tonight, You think. You can feel it. You'll have to be quick about your after-supper responsibilities if you don't want to be caught in the downpour. Supper is home-cooked and delicious as ever. You assist in cutting the first slice of bread from a crusty boule just out of the oven. Its top is cut in patterns of decorative leaves, And you can smell fresh herbs. Rosemary, You think, As steam pours out of the open side. Thoughtfully, You wrap the warm slice of bread in a pure white cloth and set it to the side. Tonight there is a pie made with fresh vegetables harvested just this morning, And there are lovely steamed greens and other seasonal delicacies. Hungry as you are after a day's work, You fill up faster than expected, And there are heaps of food left over. I'll offer it to the Domovoi, You say genially, As you collect the plates from the others. After reassuring the grown-ups that you remember what to do, That you don't need any help, They disperse to the kitchen and the sitting room, Some to clean up after dinner, Others to read or sip tea on the sofa. Slinging a basket over your arm, Filled with items to offer to the Sprites, You get to work. The first place that offerings must be left for the Domovoi is the hearth, The fireplace. This is, After all, The very center of the home. Your elders look on fondly as you pour a splash of cream into a white saucer and place it gingerly upon the stone hearth. There is a small fire going in the fireplace now, And you can see the amber flames reflected in the pale surface of the porcelain and the cream. You whisper the words that you were taught to say every time you leave a gift for the Sprites. Thank you for protecting our hearth, Our home, And our family. Please accept this gift and continue to be a part of our lives. After leaving the saucer on the hearth, You make your way outside. It's still barely light outside. Threads of golden sunlight stretch from the west, Melting into stormy blue and black skies. Stars are beginning to appear, Faintly, Overhead. You head to the farthest location first so you can use the sunlight to guide your way back to the house. Most of the hens have already gone inside the chicken coop to roost for the night, But a few stragglers still peck at the ground for bits of overlooked food. You warmly usher them inside, Reminding them that it will be dark soon and they'll be much safer in their snug little house. Then you retrieve the cloth-wrapped bread, Still warm inside the little parcel, Still fragrant, And place it on the steps of the coop. Once again, You utter thanks to the domovoi. Thank you for protecting our family of animals. Please accept this gift and continue to be a part of our lives. Now you move on to the grain fields. The plants soak up the last wisps of sunlight as the rows darken. A scent of primrose rises in the evening air, Making you feel very calm and at ease. At the end of each row, You place a small morsel of food saved from tonight's supper, Uttering as you go, Thank you for protecting the seeds we sow, The plants we harvest, The food we eat, And the community we serve. As you say each word and place each offering, You feel a little bit of warmth ignite in your chest, Like a tiny candle being lit. It's more powerful than what you felt accompanying others for this chore. You feel very responsible and very grateful for the domovoi, Who work in concert with your family to make this place safe and prosperous. The domovoi show you by their actions great and small, Love and compassion. And by leaving them gifts, You are doing an act of love in return. You hope they feel appreciated and seen by your family. Which is a little funny when you think about it, Because you've never actually seen the domovoi. To your knowledge, No one in your family ever has. Yet you all believe, You all know they are there, Looking out for you, Handling household tasks, And bringing good fortune to the farm. The saucers of milk are always drunk, Then washed and put away by morning. The slices of bread disappear in the night, And by dawn, The white cloth may be found neatly folded near the chicken coop. Not to mention all the other occurrences that point to the domovoi's interference. You don't know how many there are, Come to think of it. Perhaps there's one for the farmhouse, One for the fields, One for the garden, And one for the barnyard. Or maybe there's only one very busy little sprite, Always hurrying to keep up with everyone and everything. You suppose you'll never know. Domovoi like to remain out of sight of humans, But not out of mind. Which is why it's so important that you never forget to leave the nightly gifts. Even if you never see one, You make a promise to yourself now, That you will always honor the sprites of Moonacre Farm. They have done so much for you. The last offerings of the night are always left in the barn. The field animals have all been brought in tonight, Seeing as rain is expected. Two horses and your pony, Daffodil, Are snoozing upright in their stalls. The sheep and cows are awake, But serene and quiet as you enter. Peachie, The orange tabby barn cat, Purrs loudly as she winds her way around your legs. You place small food items in the corners, Joking to Peachie that she mustn't let any mice get to the goodies. Therefore, The domovoi, You insist. Peachie closes her eyes slowly and seems to smile at your request. As if she understands you perfectly. You walk by the horse stalls, And Daffodil opens her eyes. Oh, Go back to sleep, You whisper, Stroking the side of her face. I didn't mean to wake you. The pony's long eyelashes flutter, And she swishes her tail behind her, Which draws your gaze. And for just a flash of an instant, The breath of a moment so brief, You question whether you see it at all. You could swear that there are two bright eyes peering out at you, Blinking. But they vanish almost immediately. You shake your head and blink hard, Wondering if it was just a trick of the light and the flicking of Daffodil's tail. But what if it wasn't, You think. What if you just saw something no one else in your family has ever seen? Quietly, Moving on tiptoe, You sidestep to get a look around the other side of Daffodil. But you don't see anything unusual in the stall with her. You exhale and get ready to drop off the last of the offerings in the hayloft. But first, A thought comes to you. You reach into the basket and withdraw a small, Bright red strawberry. You toss it into the stall toward the pony's back legs, Before the strawberry has even settled into the hay strewn across the floor. You see it. A miniature hand reaches out and snatches the strawberry, Before instantly drawing back and out of sight. You gasp. You can't help it. And then you're certain you hear a high-pitched chuckle. There's something there. No, Someone. You don't want to scare them, So you speak softly. I have more berries and even a piece of pie if you're hungry. You can come out. I won't hurt you. There's silence and stillness. It seems you've frightened off the little creature after all. But after a moment, Just as you're ready to give up, There's movement. First one, Then two. They come out from behind daffodil and stand, Grinning sheepishly, In the stall. Barely taller than a milk bottle each, They have pointed ears and hats atop their heads, And they are dressed in charming threads that remind you of your great-great-grandmother's embroidery. One is a little man with rosy cheeks and a long white beard. The other is a little woman with jolly wrinkled eyes and a pointed chin. She holds the strawberry you just tossed, Which looks the size of a soccer ball in her minuscule hands. Can it be, You wonder? Are these the little sprites who have looked after your family for generations? Are you the domovoi, You ask in disbelief? The little people wink as if to say, At your service. Bruno, Says the tiny man, Gesturing to himself. And Juno, Smiles the little woman with a curtsy. May we have a peek inside that basket you're holding? You open the stall door for the domovoi and set the basket down before them. They gasp and begin to sort through all the leftovers you've brought. Peachie the cat comes to join you and Bruno scratches her behind the ears. You suppose they know each other well. The domovoi treat the leftovers like a banquet feast, Oohing and awing over everything you offer. As you watch the little sprites with growing amusement, And the sky outside darkens, Drops of rain begin to fall on the roof of the barn. Slowly at first, Then gathering in speed and density. The rain thickens to a muffled curtain of sound outside the warm barn, Like static. I'd better be getting back to the house, You say, Preparing to dash through the buckets of water coming down outside. Oh, Nonsense, Says Juno, Her mouth full of savory vegetable pie. It'll only rain for an hour or so. Stay with us till it calms down, Then you can head back. You are delighted by the invitation to remain in the presence of the domovoi of Moonacre Farm. You feel like you've been given a glimpse of a magical secret. Like these special creatures have deemed you equally special and let you into their exclusive company. Bruno, Juno, Peachy, And you climb up into the hayloft, Which is warm and dry. You share the crusty bread and fresh butter, Ripe strawberries, Tea cakes, And honey from the basket. The domovoi want to know how the family is doing, Whether they're happy, Healthy, And fulfilled. You share with them everything that's happened with you recently, Your greatest joys, The things that you worry about sometimes. They listen intently and offer compassion and comfort. They share your happiness and your sorrow. They feel less like sneaky, Mysterious elves, And more like grandparents, Members of your family. You seem to know them so well already. The rain is steadily beating down outside, And the sound of it, Combined with the settling of all the delicious food and the exhaustion of the day's work, Is beginning to make you feel quite sleepy. It's warm in the loft, And the hay is very soft and dry and inviting. You feel immeasurably cozy, Like you're wrapped in a sweet little cocoon of safety and love. The farmhouse is only a stone's throw away, And you could easily make a run for it, But you don't want to leave this quiet, Sheltered space or the care of the dedicated domovoi. They seem to notice how comfortable you are, How tired, Because they flit away and return swiftly with armfuls of sheep's wool, Which they spread generously upon the bales of hay. You thank them sweetly, Trying to remember the words you're supposed to say. Thank you for protecting our family and our farm. Then you add, From the heart, Thank you for taking care of me. Bruno and Juno, The sprites of Munegre Farm, Gently kiss your forehead and leave you to rest in the cozy hayloft. Peachy curls up near your feet, A rolling purr blending with the relaxing sound of the rain. You'll just rest here for a few minutes, Until the rain stops. Then you'll go back to the house and get yourself to bed. This is what you tell yourself as you lie back on the soft wool and as your eyelids droop and fall closed. Some time later, You're not sure how long, You feel a tender hand upon your cheek, Then a rustle and a sway. You smell a familiar smell, Something that makes you feel incredibly safe and loved. It's the smell of your grown-up. They've come to look for you in the night and found you snoozing in the hayloft with sprigs of lavender and forget-me-not braided into your hair. You gently rock in their arms as they carry you across the damp earth into the farmhouse, Up the stairs, And into your own bedroom. They lay you down on your bed and tuck the blankets in around you. They're almost as soft as the pure sheep's wool. You wake up just enough to smile as they kiss the top of your head. Thank you for taking care of me, You try to say, Though you're so sleepy, You're not sure if you say it out loud or just in your mind. You hope they heard you, The Domovoi, And your family. And then, Off you drift, At last, To a deep and restful sleep. Sweet dreams.

Reviews

My children love falling asleep to your stories as much as I do

That was such a beautiful, sweet story! I heard of domovoy from the novel, The Bear and the Nightingale. It was good in case you want to try it 🥰