Hi, it's Tom, I want to introduce you to one of my bedtime storytelling friends there, a from the Sleep with Me podcast. Sleep with me is kind of like the goofy cousin of Get Sleepy, the one who tells surreal, meandering stories that you can't help but fall asleep to, and better yet, it's encouraged. Sleep with me, add some extra variety to your sleep, listening to keep you company during the week, so go and check it out.

You or someone you know will probably like this show head off to Dreamland with the Sleep with Me podcast by listening on a smart speaker or whatever podcast app you're using right now. Welcome to Get Sleepy, the podcast where we listen, we relax and we get sleepy. My name is Thomas and I'm your host. Thank you for tuning in and making this podcast a part of your bedtime routine. Elizabeth is back to narrate tonight's story. We're headed to an old town where a mysterious castle is perched high on a hill.

We'll explore it by candlelight and return to town as night falls. So we'll join Elizabeth shortly. But first, I'm really excited to tell you that our first ever get sleepy T-shirts are coming very, very soon. I know many of you have been patiently waiting and we really appreciate your excitement.

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It's a nice season. No escape, if you'd like to hear that, as well as all the other exclusive episodes and our entire back catalogue. Then go to get sleepy dot com slash support or just follow the link in the show notes to learn more. Tonight's episode is supported by native deodorants, I've been using natives, mint and eucalyptus there for the past few months and it's become a staple of my morning routine. It smells incredible and it's better for my body than deodorants I've used previously, native never use is potentially harmful ingredients like aluminium, parabens, sulfates or talc.

And it's also vegan and never tested on animals. As we head into the festive season, Native have just released their candy cane holiday scent and their candy cane gifts, that would make a great stocking filler for everyone on your list. So find out for yourself why everybody loves Native and why they have over 14000, five star reviews, give the gift of native by going to native deo dot com slash, get sleepy or use the promo code, get sleepy at checkout and get 20 percent off your first order.

Make sure you order before December the 7th to get your products in time for Christmas. That's native DCO dot com slash. Get sleepy or use promo code. Get sleepy. So now let's prepare for our story. Get settled into a comfortable position where you can breathe freely and fully. Once you're ready, imagine that your body is surrounded by radiant light. Warm and glowing. As you breathe in, draw that light into your body. And feel its glow within.

The DP breathe the more that light fills every single piece of your being. One breath at a time. You are enriched by this radiance. It feels like energy, like a natural source of healing. For of nourishing, warm. And the calming essence. It clears all of your worries, discomforts and negativity. You glow from within and everything in the outer world will notice it to. So embrace it and smile. It's time to turn to our story now.

So let your mind wander beyond the walls of your home. Beyond the town or city where you live. To a place that is marked by the passage of time. Where old stone walls line a square in the center of town.

You're not quite sure where you are, but the weather is idyllic. It's the middle of phone. A colorful assortment of leaves sway on the tree branches, testing the wind for the perfect moment to set free. Those that have already chosen to let go. Have landed safely on the ground. They crunch and scatter beneath your feet with every step. Imagine you are standing in a small square nestled in an old city. This place dates back to medieval times.

The buildings are weathered and have seen many years go by. The square is empty. Save for a handful of trees growing in the shadow of the beautiful architecture. The air is crisp, but you are warm and cozy in a long coat. The last remaining leaves on the trees around you. Shine crimson and gold. As the sun begins to set. Many of the branches are already bare. But some cling to their lives as they're hanging on to the final touch of summer for as long as they can.

A cool breeze washes over the tops of the buildings and into the square. It kicks up the leaves that have already fallen into little flurries of autumn color that swirl around your feet. One of the leaves catches your eye. It is long and thin with jagged brown edges that can intuit. Like old parchment. Its center is a bright lemon yellow. With spots of green and red discoloration marking its journey through four. The breeze picked it up. And tosses it into an arched passageway leading out of the square.

As it tumbles through the enclosed space. It is hidden from view for just a moment. By the shadows within. Curious, you follow the leaf. You hear the sound of your shoes tapping rhythmically on the cobblestones as you walk. The sound is rich and pleasing to the ear. It echoes slightly as you pass under the archway and into the smooth tunnel. You feel a sense of closeness, a. Compared to the open square behind you. You can no longer see the sunset sky.

Or hear the rustling of the leaves as they drop from the branches and float lightly from stone to stone. You quickened your pace to catch up with the live. And soon find yourself back under open sky. Above your paper, thin clouds dance across the golden blue backdrop. The. Just ahead, you spot the leaf. It is gently tumbling toward a gray stone wall overlooking a white river. This is the edge of town, you realize. The river divides the old city from the surrounding countryside.

By the steady sound of the rushing water. You imagine it would have made a formidable barrier in ancient times? Now it seems to enclose the city. And keep it from spilling into the night beyond. And you wonder what it once may have kept out. You follow the line after leave up your field of vision from the ground to the war to the opposite bank. In the distance, you see a Forestdale. A narrow road widens up it to the top.

And there you see a solitary castle. Perched like a gargoyle. From here, it looks gray and old, with sharp edges protruding from unexpected places. What a strange building, you think. And then you remember something you had a few days ago. You were sitting in a local cafe. Enjoying a coffee and a bite to eat. The waiter realized you were not from around here and was keen to share stories about his home. He mostly told you about local sites you shouldn't miss.

But he also mentioned the lonely castle on the hill. He said there have always been strange tales told about the place. It is rumored that once it belonged to a mysterious count. He lived out his life in the castle, never venturing down to the city below. Some people will tell you they've seen bats circling overhead on winter evenings. Making curious patterns in the sky. Others say. That while no one lives there anymore. They can still see lamplight flickering in the distance on autumn evenings like this.

You shift your gaze back to the sky. The sun sets over the past few days have lasted quite a while. You should have enough time to get to the castle before it's dark, you think? A few golden rays seem to shoot up from the low sun and sets the sky ablaze. It is as though the brightest moments of the day come just before night. When the sky is illuminated by a last. Burst of sunlight. You set off toward the CASA.

A short way down the pike, there's a bridge crossing the river. It is low and wide, the right size for a carriage to pass over with plenty of room on either side. When you reach the midway point of the bridge. You look out over the water. It is a fast moving river. Which has smooth rapids every so often. Where the water splashes over clusters of rock. The river curves around the edge of town. Out of sight, it seems, to Huggett close, keeping it safe and protected.

Its waters are a deep dark blue. With streaks of white around the rapids. Near the horizon, it shines almost silver. The color of the sky fades as well to a deep pumpkin orange. The sun hangs low and its bottom edge is already out of sight. You continue on your way to the other side of the river. Hear the sound of the current masks, any noise the city makes. You can see it clearly, but all you hear is the river itself.

And the quiet whispers of the forest ahead. The single ride begins at the bridge and rises gently at the base of the hill. You follow it across an open, grassy plain. Which gives way to clusters of trees after a few minutes of walking. Soon the trees grow closer together. They seem taller to you think? Perhaps it is just a trick of the light. Sunset casts a long shadow across the ground, each of the trees has one of these dark reflections, which for.

One on top of the other. In pools of black. Here in the forest, you no longer have a view of the horizon. Around you, the branches of black locust trees hung low to the ground. Some brush the top of your head as you pass near the. Others fall across your path like curtains waiting to be opened. Their trunks are far and dark, almost black in places. The branches are old and stand out at many angles from their base.

Eisuke. Your footsteps crunch across fallen leaves. Every so often you hear a crumbling sound as your shoes find that beneath them. You fall into a rhythm with your foot falls and you find it helps you pass the time. As you walk, you watch the forest transform, it is darker here among these timeless trees. You feel the power continued to slope upward. While you cannot measure your progress against the city or the river, you know, you must be much higher than they are now.

You take deep breaths as you walk, relishing the smell of the woods. That's the sweetness of sap mixed with the heady aroma of the fallen leaves. The scent of pine underlies it on. Giving the air a wintry edge. You imagine this place must be beautiful in the snow? The Greens and browns and blacks, which stand out in greater relief against a light backdrop. In spring, you can imagine the birds twittering from tree branches and the forest cloaked in every shade of green.

Perhaps you will return someday. And explore these woods in other seasons. For now, it is the subtle and shifting nature of fall you enjoy. This season of transition and change, when the landscape sheds its old visage and prepares for cold days to come. A little further ahead on the path. You see the trees begin to thin out. You must be coming to the top of the hill. You follow it as it curves sharply around a stand of pine.

And then comes to an end at a set of wrought iron gates, they are closed and you see no latch to pull in order to open them. Beyond the hinges on either side, the fence continues off. Into the woods. It must encircle the entire property. You realize? With no way in. You see no other choice but to turn back. Just as you are shifting your steps to head back down the path. You hear a creaking noise behind you, you look over your shoulder.

And see the gates swing open. There's no one here to greet you. It is as though the castle itself has decided to let you in. Not one to pass up an opportunity for adventure. You take a deep breath and then step inside the gates. They do not swing shut behind you, but rather stay open, just a crack. Enough for you to pass through on your way out. With one final glance at the path down the hill, you make your way toward the castle.

It stands before you large and imposing. It had appeared gray from the city below. But now you see it is because it is built atop a craggy outcropping. It seems to grow from the rock itself. You can hardly tell where one ends and the other begins. Grey and beige stone blocks make up its thick walls. Time has left its mark on the castle. And the stone shows signs of age. Crawling Ivy has found its way into the rough cracks that run up and down the sides.

Its roof was once brick red, you think, but now it's the color of rust on a cloudy day. I covered Paravant nine, the top edge of the castle. To one side, a large round turret shots into the sky, otherwise the castle is blocking and squared off. It is as though it were built haphazardly on this El. By someone you had an idea but could never see it through completely. Before you set off a large wooden doors, mark the entrance, they are held in place by heavy iron hinges.

This black metal is ever present here. Lining the walkway to the doors are sturdy iron stands. Perhaps they once held torches to light the way. Now they stand empty. Nests of black ribbing waiting to be filmed. As you approach the doors. They to swing open. Like the gates before, it seems as though the castle itself is welcoming you inside. The doors lead to a large hole. Light from the setting sun illuminates the otherwise shadowy interior.

The walls and floor are made of the same cold stone which chills the air. You pull your coat glass around, you grateful for its warmth. On the wall to your right are several wooden pegs. On the nearest peg hangs a long black cloak. Which sways gently in the draft from the open door. How strange you think. Nobody is supposed to live in this castle. Perhaps it was left here by a groundskeeper some time ago, you muse about who would have such a job in a castle like the.

As you walk down the hall, your footsteps echo of the stone. You hear them call back to you from the walls and ceiling high above your head. As you reach the end of the corridor. The front door swings shut. Throwing the horn into darkness. One by one. Small candles flicker to life around you. You hadn't noticed them before. Thin and white, they sit in the spindly metal arms of candleholders affixed to the walls. Ahead of you resting on a wooden table.

It's a matching candelabra. Three snow white tapers stand tall to top it. It is shaped like a fork. With a central step and two branching arms which fall out from its sides in a deep curve. Its design makes the middle Kandal stand a little taller than the others. You pick it up and feel the cool medicine in your hands. It's not too heavy and will help bring light your way as you explore the castle. You pass under a little archway and into a cavernous room.

Old coats of arms hung on the walls. They are covered in images of strange beasts and mythical creatures. Crossed swords affixed beneath them. Glint as the soft candle light bounces off the walls, Shadows stands on that empty stone around them. In the corner of this room stands a tall object covered in a velvet blanket. You approach it carefully. Unsure of what lies beneath. With the tips of your fingers, you give the blanket a tug. It falls back to reveal an enormous mirror on a heavy cold and stand.

The face of the mirror is worn with time. Small stains of gold and brass mar its surface. But you can still see your reflection clearly. You wonder why someone would cover up something so beautiful. Perhaps the blanket protects it from the dust. You set down your candelabra. And pick up the velvet fabric, placing it gently over the frame and once again hiding it from view. You take one final look around as you reach for your candleholder. The ceilings in this room are tall and lined with dark wooden beams.

They give you a sense of ageless beauty. And make you wonder just how old this castle is. Beyond this room, you find a narrow corridor. It leads you to the kitchens. Cobwebs drape across a heavy chandelier in the middle of the room. Copper pots and pans hung from hooks on the wall. But having lost their luster over the years. A layer of dust has settled on the countertops. This room looks like it hasn't been touched in decades.

This might not be surprising for a very old Cassol. But you realize it is different from the rest of the building. The other rooms have been kept clean and neat, as though someone makes a home here. But that is impossible. Isn't it? The townspeople say it hasn't been inhabited for centuries. The Muste encourages you to leave the kitchens behind. You make your way out a door that stands beside the large open fire stove. It brings you to what may once have been the dining room.

There are no plates or bowls on the long wooden table that runs down the center. But every place has been set. With a single golden goblet. Started with rupee's. Perhaps the last people to dine here. Finished with a drink. You can think of no other explanation for the bevy of strange old cops. As you stand there, considering this unusual price setting. You hear a faint sound. Floating through the air. You listen closely. And can just make out the somber notes of organ music.

Emanating from a distant room. You follow the strains of the music down another long hall. Which dead ends into a torn spiral staircase. It wraps around a pillar of stone, so every time is obscured from view. The steps ahead of visible only as you mount them. One by one. Here in this space. The candles flicker brilliantly against the stone around you. Your own shadow, Pesenti up the stairs. The darkness closing in behind you as you ascend.

At the top of the stairs is a small landing with space for only a single room. A wooden door as your entry to this corner of the castle. The chords of the music are louder here, and it is clear to you this room is that point of origin. You try to pull on the thick metal handle shaped like a ring, but the door doesn't budge. You try to push instead. But it won't give way. You notice a tiny keyhole cut into the metal above the handle.

Perhaps you need a key to enter. You think that you haven't seen one lying around in any of the rooms. You bend down toward the keyhole and press your face against the cool metal of the lock. Through the hole, you can make out an immense display of candles on a multitiered rack inside the room. The wax has melted. And stripped down, creating a fast moving water for. Suspended from the iron holda. Behind them. A heavy part.

Of crimson curtains. A pulled tightly shot across the windows. Beside the candles, stands and organ. It's ivory colored kids shine in the candle light. As you watch. The keys to press themselves in a mysterious fashion. It looks to you as though the instrument is playing itself. Perhaps it is one of those trick player pianos that entertained curious crowds in days of old. At the corner of your view, you see what looks to be a long wooden box.

It doesn't seem as heavy as the chest nor as light as a great. It's full length is obscured by the edge of the keyhole. And there is no way for you to get a better look. What a strange room. You think dozens of candles. And Orkan. And an old fox. With that, you realize your candles have nearly burned away. They are more like stumps of grey wax now than the tall white tape, as they were at the start.

It's time to be heading back. You think? The sun is likely set by now. And the last dim light of dusk is all that remains. You would like to make it down to the river before night shrouds the hill in total darkness. You walk back down the twisting tons of the staircase to the long corridor. Through the space with the mirror. To the dining room. Where the coal plants are lined up in neat rows. You cross back through the musty old kitchen.

To the first hole where you found the candelabra. You leave it back on the wooden table. Just in case anyone else follow in your footsteps and needs it to. As you make your way to the front door. You take a quick glance at the packs on the wall. Wasn't there a cloak hanging there when you first arrived? Now all the packs are empty. Perhaps you just imagined it. After all, nobody lives here in the castle. You tell yourself.

You leave through the door and find yourself back under the dusky sky. The sun has crossed beneath the horizon. The only light left is the deep periwinkle of oncoming night. Off in the distance, you can see the flat white disc of the moon beginning its ascent into the evening sky. You pass between the rows of metal torch holders. And around the stand of pine to the wrought iron gates. They are still slightly ajar, just the way you left them.

You slept through the opening in the bars. Once you are on the other side, the gate creaks shut. It is as though the castle is bidding you farewell. It would not due to linger on this hill any longer, you think? You walk back down the forested path past the fallen, so the fire and the locust trees that hang like curtains. Down the hill to the grassy field. And the place where the power comes to an end, it's the river.

You look back up toward the castle. Clutching to the hillside above the trees. A solitary bat flaps in a circle above the highest turret. It's outline clear against the iridescence mood. The bridge beckons you and you cross back over it into town. You make your way through the square. And up a small cobblestone street. To the building where you have a room. You climb the narrow stairs and reach the brown door, which leads you inside to your place of rest.

You take off your shoes and coat. And hang it carefully on a hook behind the door. It's just a moment before you've changed into your nightclothes. And already asleep. You climb into your bed. Which faces the window looking out over town. As you lay there with your head resting on the soft pillow. You gazed out at the. Which is just visible above the frame of the glass. It is now fully night outside. A bright moon hangs low in the sky and casts a poly glow across the landscape.

And they're off in the distance. You can just make out the flicker of candle light. In a window of the castle. As you drift off to a deep. And restful sleep.