A City Mouse Visits The Country: A Wandering Sleep Story
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Hello everyone, this is Ria with a quick note. This is a full episode preview of a story featured on Little Stories for Sleep, a bedtime podcast just for Little Stories Premium subscribers. The episode I'm sharing with you today is part of a series I'm calling Wanderlust.

Wandering Sleep Stories. These new stories are peaceful, calming, and perfect for that last track on a bedtime playlist. On Little Stories for Sleep, Wandering Sleep Stories have no intro or outro. It's just the story framed by soft music.

So grab your weighted blanket, snuggle up, and fall asleep to this sweet tale. It was dusk when Gus stepped onto the city sidewalk. Immediately, he was knocked to his feet by rolling luggage pulled by a man in a rumpled suit. The street lamps were lit up.

signaling the coming of night. But nightfall meant little here, in this city that did not sleep. The sidewalks were packed with people striding purposefully by themselves or ambling along in groups. The street remained congested with cars and buses honking intermittently

all needing to be somewhere, urgently. Gus staggered to his feet, keeping close to the brick of the office building from which he'd emerged. He dusted himself off, unstartled by the collision with the suitcase. If a city mouse did not anticipate such encounters, he didn't last long.

In the shadow of the building, Gus felt for his journal in the inner pocket of his jacket. Only to find it was not there. He slapped a paw to his forehead, seeing the journal clearly in his mind, knowing it was on his bedside table with his reading glasses resting on top.

He'd been so wound up about his trip, he'd forgotten to grab it before he left the basement. The journal had contained instructions on how to catch the bus. Thankfully, it was little more than a redundancy. Gus had memorized his cousin Tenny's directions.

Tenny was the only one who'd been where Gus was headed, and Gus had no choice but to trust him. His cousin could be a bit scattered, prone to distraction. Tenny had thrown him pieces of information here and there. It was not until Gus had implored him to sit down and focus that he had come out

with a clear set of instructions. Head south two blocks until you reach Ferry Street. Watch out at the first corner. It's a bus stop, always busy. But to get to your bus stop, you'll have to keep going. All right. Turn west at Ferry Street, away from the water. Go two more blocks.

Gus had scrawled the directions in his small journal as Tenny went on. The stop is underneath the blue mailbox. The bus arrives 40 minutes after sunset. Okay. It only waits for a minute. If you miss it, you're out of luck for a whole week. I won't miss it.

But to Tenny, whose real name was Theodore, but who had been nicknamed Tenny as the youngest of ten, the logistics were little hurdles to clear, nothing to worry about. "'Let's get to the heart of the matter, Gus,' he'd said earnestly. "'The sky, Gus. You won't believe how big it is.' But the logistics were important right now."

Gus set off, heading south. Even with years of city life under his belt, it never got much easier. A mouse had to be completely alert in such an unpredictable environment. The people usually walked in patterns, but occasionally, one would stop unexpectedly, or a spirited conversation at the curb might dissolve into a quarrel.

Sidewalks teemed with strollers and wheeled carts, which could make quick work of an inattentive mouse. Gus kept to the shadows and scurried down the block, constantly checking his surroundings for danger. At the first corner, he paused to get his bearings. As Tenny had promised, there was a bus stop.

A line of people waited to board the bus, huffing in place at the curb. Gus clung to the dark alongside the corner building and did not move until the final passenger boarded. The bus's folded door extended and closed, and the massive vehicle rumbled away.

The traffic light turned green and a gust joined the stream of people crossing the city street. One block to go. This was a restaurant district and people spilled out of eateries, waiting for tables and groups on the sidewalk. It was early spring and the air was warm.

Many of the food joint's windows were propped open, letting music and laughter drift onto the street. Gus dodged well-heeled feet and leapt out of the path of oncoming wheels. Each step was a risk, and he had to slow down at points to avoid obstacles.

For the first time, he wondered whether he might miss the bus. But he made it past the busiest section of the block, and Ferry Street came into view. At the corner, Gus turned west. Turning east would have brought him closer to the water, which would be bustling with activity at this hour.

The pier was packed with shops and food trucks, ice cream parlors and theaters. But the west end of Ferry Street was relatively hushed, lined with narrow two-story homes with tiny gardens out front.

Gus could run twice as fast here, where the sidewalk was empty, save for the occasional person walking behind a dog. Within minutes, he reached a corner and immediately crossed the street and continued. On to the next block, Gus passed a trim row of hedges that had tiny spring buds on them.

There was a sprinkler in one of the yards, drizzling water on the grass, but also spritzing the sidewalk. Gus waited beyond its reach until the spray switched directions. He scrambled past it, feeling the dampness on the soles of his feet.

He reached a section of the sidewalk that looked as though something heavy had fallen in its center. Thick cracks branched out, like spokes on a bicycle wheel. Gus took care as he hopped over and around the fissures. He did not want to scrape a foot just now. He wanted to be whole and well for his journey.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he was past the destruction. There, just paces away, on the corner, was a blue mailbox. There were only two animals waiting. An elder rat reading a newspaper and a hamster who appeared to be deep in thought.

The rat eyed Gus, sniffed, then returned to the paper. For the first time since he'd set out on his journey, Gus smiled to himself. He'd made it. Everything was fine. Soon, he'd be on his first trip to the country. Gus had heard about the country many times from Tenny, mostly,

but also from books. He'd seen pictures of farms and hillsides. He'd heard tales of dirt roads, endless pastures, rows and rows of towering corn stalks. But they'd been pen and ink drawings and stories on a page. And his cousin tended to embellish all Gus had ever truly known.

was the unceasing energy of city life. A life of constant vigilance that required not a small amount of courage, simply to survive each day. The country and its charms, wide open land, a great variety of animals not seen in the city,

Small planes flying low over crops. It sounded like the figment of a fanciful imagination. A place so peaceful, so serene, that it had to be a fairy tale. But Tenny had insisted it was real and had described it in such rich detail that Gus had grown more curious to see it for himself.

This week, Gus had noticed he had nothing on the calendar and no excuse not to go. The bus arrived as promised, which felt like a small miracle. It coughed to a stop directly under the mailbox, and the assembled animals, which by then included a small rabbit and a frog, clambered inside.

Gus dug a coin out of his jacket pocket and slipped it through the payment slot, delighting in the resulting jingle. There were only six rows of two seats each, with a seat on either side of the aisle so that every passenger had a window. Gus took a seat at the rear of the bus and settled in as it drove out from under the mailbox.

The first leg of the ride was bumpy. The bus traveled close to the curb in the street, a narrow strip of road with patches of litter and collections of gravel. The bus's suspension had little give, and every bump sent the animals and the driver jostling in their seats.

Gus had never ridden a bus, and it was jarring and a bit thrilling to be thrown in the air every so often. He took comfort in the fact that the driver, a serious-looking squirrel, was entirely undisturbed. It took two hours to pass the city limits. The buildings shrank and became boxy,

with pitched roofs and fenced yards. The streets were cleaner, which meant a smooth ride for the little bus, and it sped up, making good time as it moved away from the city's bustle. Every passenger was out cold, sleeping as cozily as in a bed. Except Gus. He didn't want to miss anything.

Already he'd never seen anything like the towns the bus had traversed. Life here was slower, it seemed, than in the city. The sidewalks were deserted at this hour. The bus zipped through countless intersections without a single car. Gus thought it funny that the traffic lights continued to switch from green to red without a soul in sight.

After another hour, the sky had deepened to an impenetrable black, and the dim view out the window had become repetitive. House. Sidewalk. Trees. House. Sidewalk. Trees. Gus rested his head on the cool glass of the window and allowed sleep to overtake him.

Gus had been dreaming of being on a boat at sea, rocking in the waves. He blinked awake and found that the bus was rocking, not over waves, but as it drove on a road made of packed dirt and gravel. The rest of the passengers nodded awake and rubbed their eyes.

Gus peered out the window and his mouth dropped open. Beneath a deep, magenta strip of sky above the trees, the landscape was vast. An endless meadow. He wished he could poke his head through the roof of the bus to get a better view. "When will we stop?" he whispered. And as he said the final word, as if it were enchanted,

The bus downshifted and slowed. It took a turn onto another road made of packed dirt and gravel, then rumbled to a stop beside a wooden post. Gus nearly laughed as the bus drove away, leaving him on the side of the dusty road in the middle of nowhere. I've been abandoned.

he thought cheerily. The other passengers dispersed, heading with purpose in various directions. Very soon, Gus was alone. The sun was emerging from behind the trees, casting a glow over the land, giving the endless fields a dreamlike quality. Gus wished he'd remembered his journal,

After jotting down the bus stop directions, he'd added notes from Tenny about the surrounding farms. He searched his mind. Since you're only going for the day, head west to get to the berry farm. West. Yes, that's what he'd said. Gus thought. Now which way is west? It took him a minute of studying the sun to be sure.

He spent the next three hours walking. It was not a glamorous journey. The earth was damp from recent rains, and his paws became terribly muddy. This never happened in the city. It was many things. Grimy, littered, stained, but not muddy. Gus savored every step.

He especially loved the silence. The city was never silent. Even in the middle of the day, when the mice slept in the basement of the office building where he lived, the air was dense with the sounds of his cousins and siblings turning in their sleep, scratching at itches, sneezing sporadically.

not to mention the groaning sounds of the elevator running up and down the floors of the building above their heads. Here, in this vast meadow of tall grass and wildflowers, it was utterly quiet except for the soft buzz of the occasional insect flying in lazy circles overhead. A herd of deer passed,

barely making a noise as they skipped away, all in a line. As he walked, Gus's heart rate slowed. He established a rhythm as he passed through the grass and weeds, uninterrupted by the constant impediments and dangers he faced at home. At a certain point,

Gus realized his mind had wandered freely in a way it never did in the city. Already, he'd had some new thoughts, new ideas. A red barn came into view. Gus cut a path through the field towards the barn, but before he reached it, he came to a cottage.

With a porch, it was utterly empty. No sign of people, no cat, waiting for him on the wooden planks. Only a bluebird in the tree, out front, whistling something sweet. Cautiously, Gus climbed the wooden steps of the porch. On the top step, he came to a metal bucket.

He scrambled up the side of the bucket and his eyes widened when he got a glimpse of what it held. Gus checked his surroundings. No movements, no dangers in sight. He estimated the depth of the bucket and worked out how quickly he could scramble out of it if need be. Then,

He tipped himself over the rim and tumbled to the bottom onto a pile of bright red strawberries. Gus ate until his tummy felt as if it might burst. Then he rolled onto his back and stared up from the bottom of the bucket, the bright blue sky.

seemed to go on forever. The sky, Gus. You won't believe how big it is. Tenny had not embellished at all. Exhausted from his journey through the field, Gus curled up in the bucket, letting his eyes drift shut. He would take a long, lazy nap,

Then decide what to do. Catch the bus that evening. Head back to the bright lights of the city. Or maybe he'd extend his trip. Explore the farm. Maybe stay forever. Everything seemed possible just then. As Gus fell into a peaceful sleep.

This has been a special full episode preview of a wandering sleep story. To hear more wandering sleep stories, you can join Little Stories Premium by visiting littlestoriespremium.com. And thank you, as always, for listening in.