Night At The Witch's Cabin: An Enchanted Sleep Story

Retreat to a warm, inviting cabin with the sister witches, Jadis and Aurora, and let the quiet magic of nature surround you. Cozy by the fire, enjoy a simple, comforting meal, and sink into peaceful relaxation as the world outside fades away. This is your time to rest, unwind, and be fully wrapped in comfort and the gentle rhythms of the forest.

Transcript

Retreat to a warm,

Inviting cabin with the Sister Witches,

Jadis and Aurora,

And let the quiet magic of nature surround you.

You'll cozy up by the fire,

Enjoy a simple,

Comforting meal,

And sink into peaceful relaxation as the world outside fades away.

This is your time to rest,

Unwind,

And be fully wrapped in comfort and the gentle rhythms of the forest.

The Haven Shop is a fantasy bedtime story series that will reconnect you with your inner magic as you dwell in the sacred space between waking and sleep.

My name is Andrea,

And I am deeply honored to be part of your sacred bedtime ritual.

You deserve this gentle retreat,

A pause from responsibilities,

Expectations,

And all the little things that wear on your mind.

Take a slow,

Deep breath.

Feel the weight of your day lift,

And let yourself fully sink into this peaceful,

Calming space.

My sister Jen wrote tonight's story for those moments when you feel guided to unplug from the complexities of life and reconnect with the natural world.

We hope you love it.

From here on,

The only thing you need to do is relax and enjoy tonight's story.

It's a trust spell,

Jadis explains,

As she arranges a circle of lavender and rosemary on the table.

I'll cast mine on Aurora.

And I'll cast mine on Jadis,

Aurora replies with a grin.

It's the only way either of us will actually take a break.

Jadis goes first.

Her fingers trace a slow,

Deliberate sigil in the air,

Pale silver light following the path like smoke.

The glow drifts towards Aurora's chest,

Dissolving into her with a shimmer that vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

Aurora exhales,

Long and low,

And a hush settles over the room.

Feels like stepping out of a dream,

Aurora murmurs.

Strange,

But good.

Then,

It's her turn.

She hums a gentle melody,

Cupping her hands until golden warmth blooms between them.

The light rises like sunlit mist,

And settles around Jadis' shoulders,

Like a soft shawl.

Jadis closes her eyes for a moment,

Then nods with quiet satisfaction.

There.

Our magic is suspended for the weekend.

It'll just be us,

The cabin,

And the woods.

You're surprised the sister witches would ever choose to part with their magic,

Even for a day.

But watching them,

You realize there's magic in the paws,

In the simple acts of tending,

Creating,

And being present.

Even without their spells,

They are whole.

With everything settled,

The sisters pack only what's needed for your overnight stay.

Fluffy blankets,

Tea,

A loaf of oat bread,

A tin of honey,

And two old journals.

Layla,

Aurora's sleek black cat,

Leaps onto the satchel and nudges herself into its top,

Certain she doesn't need an invitation to come along.

From his perch,

High on the bookshelf,

Rex watches your little travel party assemble.

He tilts his head,

As if weighing the moment,

Then spreads his wings.

With a graceful sweep,

He glides across the main shop floor,

And lands atop the old-fashioned cash register that rests on the polished wooden counter.

Rex has volunteered to stay behind and watch the shop,

Jadis announces.

Thank you,

Rex,

Aurora adds warmly.

The white raven bows his head in solemn acknowledgement.

The three of you climb the stairs to the second floor of the shop,

And gather around the familiar door that gleams softly with golden light along its edges.

You recall with fondness the last time you crossed its threshold,

When it carried you to the Whispering Waters Day Spa for Magical Beings.

Jadis gives you a warm smile.

Same door,

Different destination,

She says,

Linking her arm through yours and turning the knob.

You step through,

And the world around you shifts.

The scent of pine replaces the comforting aromas of the shop,

And the air grows cool and fresh.

Beyond the door lies a winding path through tall evergreens,

Where sunlight filters gently through the branches.

The forest is quiet,

In the way only old forests are.

Comforting,

Knowing,

As if it's been waiting for your arrival.

You walk beside Aurora and Jadis.

Your footsteps light against the forest floor.

No one's in a hurry.

There's plenty of time to soak in the beauty that surrounds you.

With each step,

The ordinary world fades a bit more,

Replaced by the quiet magic of the woods.

A peaceful hush settles over everything.

Even Layla,

Peeking from the satchel,

Plinks slowly and sniffs the air,

As the scent of moss and cedar grows richer.

Then,

Through a break in the trees,

You see it.

The family cabin,

Quaint and inviting.

It rests against a gentle slope,

With smoke already curling from the chimney.

Its wooden walls are darkened with age,

And a narrow stone path winds up to the door.

Painted a shade of green,

So weathered,

It's nearly turned to grey.

Wildflowers and ferns sway softly in the breeze,

As if welcoming you home.

As you approach,

A gentle rustling stirs in the bushes.

A small fox trots out,

Tail high,

And drops a bundle of dry sticks at the base of the steps.

Jadus grins.

Thank you,

Friend.

Just what we needed.

From the trees above,

Two blue jays call out and flutter down to the porch railing.

One of them hops to a tiny wooden drawer,

Tucked beneath the bench seat,

And tugs it open,

Revealing bits of fabric and paper.

Stored neatly for kindling.

Aurora laughs softly.

I think they've been planning this.

Then,

With a soft creak,

The cabin door swings open,

Without a hand to move it.

A plump,

Brown squirrel peeks around the frame,

A tiny ring of keys clutched in its paws.

It chitters once,

Then scampers off into the brush,

Leaving the doorway open and waiting.

You cannot believe the sweetness of the scene,

And you laugh in delight.

Inside,

The cabin smells of cedar,

Baked apples,

And old magic.

The fireplace is already laid with logs,

And the hearth is swept clean.

A soft stack of wool blankets waits on a cedar chest,

And a hand-crafted rug sprawls beneath it all,

Adding a layer of cozy comfort.

This place remembers us,

Aurora says,

Setting down her pack.

The walls are crafted in warm wood,

Their knots glowing softly in the firelight.

Comfortable armchairs are tucked around the stone hearth,

Each draped in well-loved quilts and embroidered cushions that smell faintly of lavender.

Shelves carved from old driftwood line the walls,

Filled with forest journals,

Jars of dried herbs,

Tiny hand-carved animals,

And a sleepy cluster of beeswax candles.

A kettle hook swings over the hearth,

And near the back window,

A little writing desk waits,

With a feather pen and half-filled notebook resting atop it.

Everything here has been touched by care and lived in with love,

Welcoming,

Unhurried.

And entirely at peace.

Jadus kneels by the hearth,

Admiring the golden flames,

Licking the edges of the kindling gifted by the fox.

You all sit for a while,

Not speaking,

Just listening to the cabin settle.

The trees breathe,

And the slow heartbeat of a place,

Untouched by time.

Aurora opens one of the journals,

And flips through pages of pressed leaves,

Sketches of starlight patterns,

And handwritten memories gathered over the years.

She looks up at you,

With a soft smile.

We could add to it tonight,

She says.

You're part of this now,

Too.

Jadus carries a pot of water to the hearth,

And sets it carefully over the fire.

No floating kettles today,

She says with a smile.

Together,

You prepare the tea,

With dried rose hips,

Chamomile,

And a touch of cinnamon.

The kettle takes its time.

Everything does,

And it's better for it.

Layla stretches lazily across the windowsill.

Her tail flicking as a squirrel scurries past,

Outside.

Through the glass,

You watch birds pecking at seeds someone must have left on a past visit.

It feels as though they've all been waiting for guests to return.

With the fire gently crackling,

And steam rising from mugs of tea,

You begin to relax into the quiet rhythm of the cabin.

You curl into soft chairs around the fire.

No spells,

No enchantments.

Just warmth,

Scent,

And sound.

And somehow,

It's more than enough.

After a simple snack,

Thick slices of oat bread drizzled with honey,

And a handful of berries,

You all wander outside.

Sunlight filters through the trees in golden spears,

Catching the underbrush and making it sparkle.

A pair of deer watch from a distance.

You watch back,

Unhurried,

Drinking in this nature-filled dreamscape.

Jadus catches your attention as she kneels beside the porch bench and pulls out an old wooden box,

Tucked beneath it.

When she opens the lid,

You see it's filled with tiny carved figurines.

Owls.

Moons.

Stars.

Frogs.

And little houses.

We used to hide these in the woods for each other,

She says,

Eyes sparkling.

Want to play?

You each choose three,

Then fan out through the glade,

Around the cabin,

Tucking your treasures into little hiding spots.

Under tree roots.

Behind toadstools.

In the curve of an old stone wall.

Aurora hums as she hides hers,

A wandering tune that drifts through the forest like a soft breeze through leaves.

Later,

You all search for one another's hiding spots,

Laughing when someone finds a moon figure resting neatly in a hollow stump.

It's a game with no winners or losers,

Just joy.

In the quiet afternoon,

With the sun angling lower through the trees,

Aurora suggests an outing.

Let's gather what we can for dinner,

She says,

Pulling on a soft linen apron.

The forest always shares something,

If we're polite enough to ask.

You follow the sister witches through a narrow trail just behind the cabin.

The path dappled with light and feathered moss.

They carry small woven baskets,

Ones they've had since childhood.

The handles are worn smooth by time and touch.

Layla trots ahead,

Occasionally stopping to inspect a mushroom or sniff a patch of clover.

Jadis kneels beside a wild rosemary bush,

Growing in the crook of two stones.

She brushes its silvery leaves with reverence.

This one always comes back stronger,

She murmurs,

Cutting just a sprig or two.

Aurora finds a supply of wood sorrel,

Its delicate leaves shaped like hearts,

And gathers a small handful.

This is perfect for stew,

She notes.

You spot something,

Too.

A cluster of forest garlic,

Blooming white and star-shaped near a fallen log.

Jadis helps you dig,

Gently around the base,

Being careful not to disturb the roots more than necessary.

As you loop back toward the cabin,

Aurora pauses at the edge of a sundabbled clearing,

Her brow furrowed in a thoughtful squint.

Jadis,

Do you remember?

Jadis follows her gaze.

The old garden,

She exclaims.

Just past a fence made of sapling trunks and twine,

The earth is soft and furrowed,

A little overgrown,

But still holding its shape.

Jadis kneels and presses her hands into the dirt,

Gently brushing it back.

They're still here,

She exclaims with delight.

Carrots,

Small and crooked and sweet,

Planted seasons ago,

During another quiet retreat.

Forgotten,

Maybe,

But still growing,

Quietly beneath the soil.

They gather a few,

With careful hands,

Brushing the dirt from the roots,

And holding them like treasures.

They taste better when you've forgotten them,

Aurora says with a wink,

Placing a few in your basket.

By the time you return,

Your baskets hold a modest bounty.

Your heart fills with gratitude,

As you make your way back to the cabin,

The promise of a steaming,

Hearty stew,

Warming your thoughts.

Lovingly,

The sister witches wash and prepare the ingredients.

Dropping them into a cast-iron pot set over the flames,

The aroma of herbs,

Vegetables,

And spices rises up,

Curling through the cabin,

And wrapping you all in a comforting,

Homey embrace.

You're welcome to explore,

Aurora suggests.

If you like,

Follow the path through the ferns and into the hollow.

Intrigued,

You nod,

And as the sisters settle into their quiet crafts,

You set out to wander.

Down the narrow path,

The forest hums with green life.

Ferns brush softly against your fingertips.

Birdsong drifts through the canopy,

And the earthy scent of moss rises from the ground.

You follow the gentle murmur of water,

Until it leads you to the river,

Flowing steady and clear,

Its surface sparkling in the filtered sunlight.

The river moves slowly,

Winding like a silver ribbon,

Through mossy banks and stones worn smooth by time.

You slip off your shoes and step in.

It's cold at first,

But pure and refreshing.

Gradually,

You ease in deeper,

And float.

Above you,

The canopy shivers in the breeze.

Birds wheel and call overhead.

You close your eyes and surrender,

Letting the river carry away whatever it chooses.

Thoughts,

Worries,

The last traces of daily life.

Here,

You are simply a body in the water.

A soul among the trees.

Weightless and free,

You pause in quiet reverence for the gift that nature has offered.

When you return to the cabin,

Your hair damp and the scent of the river clinging to your skin,

The stew is nearly ready.

Aurora looks up and smiles.

The forest must have welcomed you in,

She says softly.

The stew is ready just as the last light of day touches the treetops.

Steam rises in rich,

Curling tendrils.

Earthy,

Sweet,

And comforting.

Aurora ladles it into wooden bowls,

While Jadus wraps fresh bread in a linen cloth.

Then,

With a conspiratorial smile,

She says,

Let's not eat inside.

You help carry the evening's feast out to a small clearing near the edge of the woods,

Not far from where you'd tucked away the tiny carved moon.

A circle of stones marks an old fire pit from summer's past,

And the sisters begin rebuilding the campfire,

Stick by stick.

The forest around you grows quiet,

As if it,

Too,

Is settling in for the evening.

Jadus strikes a match.

The fire catches slowly,

Then flares into life with a satisfying crackle.

You all sit cross-legged around it,

On folded blankets,

Your bowls warm in your hands.

For a while,

No one speaks.

The stew is too good.

The silence too soft.

A bird calls once from deep in the trees.

Then nothing,

But the fire's gentle rhythm.

Then,

Aurora begins to laugh.

A warm chuckle,

The kind that bubbles up from memory.

Remember my broom mishap at the Halloween party?

Jadus lets out a delighted giggle.

I don't think I'll ever forget it.

It took quite some time to get the dried leaves off your clothes and hair.

Layla gives a soft huff of agreement from her blanket,

Like she remembers,

Too.

The three of you laugh until your cheeks hurt,

And the stars above seem to shimmer a bit brighter,

As if sharing your inside joke.

It is the perfect cherry on top of the evening.

The fire burns low,

And the last of the stew is gone,

Scraped up with the final piece of bread.

Then,

There's a shift in the air,

And the first drop of rain.

It's soft,

Barely there,

But it carries the rich earthen scent that only comes just before a good shower.

Jadus tilts her face to the sky.

Here it comes,

She confirms.

You gather your things and return to the cabin,

Just as the rain begins to fall in earnest.

But no one rushes inside.

Instead,

The sisters settle into two wooden rocking chairs on the porch,

Pulling their shawls snugly around their shoulders.

They leave the door open,

So the cabin's warmth spills out.

The scent of firewood and tea wrapping around you like a second blanket.

A third chair waits just for you.

You sit between them,

Watching the rain bead and roll off the edge of the roof,

Nourishing the earth below.

The forest hums quietly.

You enjoy the lullaby of rain,

The gentle creak of rocking wood,

And the feeling that something rare and real has happened.

The magic may be hushed,

But you've never felt more enchanted.

The rain deepens,

Drumming softly on the porch roof,

As the fire outside dwindles to glowing coals.

One by one,

The three of you rise,

Stretch,

And retire indoors,

Carrying the warmth of the evening in your hearts.

The cabin greets you like an old friend,

Lanterns glowing low,

And the scent of old pine.

Lingering in the air,

Your modest bedroom is a welcomed sight,

Tucked beneath the slope of the roof,

With a window that looks out into the trees.

A yawn escapes you as you take in the bed.

Layered in quilts,

Hand-stitched and slightly mismatched,

In colors like autumn leaves and early dawns.

A tiny bookshelf holds a few worn novels and forest journals,

And a painted stone on the windowsill,

Most likely from Jadus,

Shows a sleeping fox,

Curled up in quiet slumber.

You slip into bed,

The mattress cradling you perfectly.

The sheets are crisp and cool,

And the weight of the blanket grounds you gently.

Outside,

The rain continues,

Nature's lullaby working its quiet magic.

Your eyes close,

And deep,

Soothing sleep finds you swiftly,

Whisking you away to restorative,

Tranquil slumber.

Good night.

Reviews

Thank you🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻I spent many a night just listening to the beginning, over and over - I sleep in increments of about an hour to an hour and a half. In these early morning hours,I heard more, and I relished the innocent fun and wonder of playing in nature, just being in nature. LOVE it. The rain felt so real, I thought it was raining outside, which made me so happy🙏🏻🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🙏🏻