Mostrando resultados por narrador "Peter McGiffen" en Todas las categorías

On a narrow country road in the English countryside, a faded cream-and-green bus rolls through the twilight — slow, steady, quiet. It stops at a sign that reads Before Your Dream. One by one, passengers board: an elderly woman with a basket of warm scones, a man with a bouquet he doesn’t remember picking up, a girl in boots too large. They don’t speak. They simply know it’s time.

Beneath a twilight canopy where golden light filters through ancient branches, books grow on leaves nestled between moss-covered stones. Each story unfurls softly: a love letter never sent, a child’s footsteps captured in green memory, the hush of secrets carried in fern fronds. The forest itself is the archivist here — a living presence that tends to stories as patiently as it tends to roots, streams, and the slow breathing of the earth.

In The Bookshop with No Clock, a traveler steps through a fog-covered alley and into a quiet shop where time itself has learned to rest. There are no ticking hands, no closing hours—only the hush of turning pages, the scent of aged paper, and a shopkeeper who understands that some books find their readers when the heart is ready. This is a gentle story about discovery, memory, and the slow rhythm of calm returning to a hurried mind. Within this bookshop, every creak of the wooden floor and flicker of amber light invites the listener to slow down.

In this gentle anthology from the Before Your Dream series, five quiet, luminous tales invite listeners into realms where memory drifts like water, stories grow from moss and stone, and peace settles over the heart like evening light. Crafted for slow nights and soft minds, these stories offer a sanctuary of calm—each one a small lantern carried into the hush before sleep.

The Passport of Forgotten Places is a poetic literary short story for bedtime — part of the Before Your Dream series. In a quiet room where candlelight flickers against weathered books, a traveller discovers a passport unlike any other — one that bears stamps not of countries that are, but of places that exist only in memory’s gentle chambers.

At the edge of a silent village, a walled garden hums softly at dusk. Beneath an apricot tree, a humble pillowmaker works in the fading light, filling soft linen cases with herbs, feathers, and memory. Every pillow he shapes carries a trace of the day—the scent of lavender, the hush of rain, the warmth of stones cooling at sunset.

Nearly 40 years after its beginnings, Pagans and magicians are still asking the question, or finding conflicting information online. Jaq D Hawkins was the first chaos magician to write of the history and elements of chaos magic for a widespread audience. Now, in this new volume, that history is expanded and the concepts, specialist terms, and culture associated with chaos magic are clarified for a new generation of magic users.

This meditative, slow-paced story invites you to join a retired postmaster as he discovers a forgotten box of unsent letters in his attic. By lamplight and soft rain, he opens each envelope—unlocking tender stories of love, hope, and unspoken courage from decades past. Perfect for listeners seeking calming fiction, poetic prose, and a mindful literary escape.

When a solitary calligrapher discovers an invisible ink—one that cannot be seen, only sensed—he begins to write what the heart remembers. Each brushstroke draws out memories he never consciously chose, as if the ink knows what he cannot say aloud. The story unfolds gently, like breath in a candlelit room, where silence holds more truth than speech.

Step into the stillness of evening, where every story glows like candlelight and each part hums with quiet wonder. Echoes Before Dreams gathers five poetic tales from the Before Your Dream series—stories written to slow the heart and carry you gently toward sleep.

Paper Boats on the River of Time is a calming bedtime story for adults, part of the Before Your Dream series. Written with soft pacing and a meditative voice, the story invites you into a world beyond clocks and calendars, where memories sail without direction, held by the current and the quiet.

In a forgotten monastery perched above a weathered coast, time moves like tide — slow, reflective, and reverent. The Monastery by the Sea is a meditative literary short story crafted for peaceful evenings, guiding listeners through stone corridors, candlelit chapels, and thyme-scented gardens where silence holds meaning and the waves whisper prayers. This is psychological literary fiction for quiet evenings, unfolding not in action but in atmosphere — a quiet life observed through moments of stillness, devotion, and ritual.

High on a remote mountain, where wind threads through stone and silence gathers in the dome, an old observatory waits for night. Inside, a solitary astronomer begins his ritual. He does not measure or chart. He simply watches — and wonders if the stars might be watching him in return. Through the telescope’s great lens, the familiar sky begins to change. Clusters shift. Constellations breathe. A spiral forms, a rhythm pulses, a triangle glows with deliberate synchrony.

In a quiet lane beneath the clocktower, there is a small shop that lives between time and memory. Its shelves are filled with forgotten treasures—canes polished by years of touch, violins that remember their music, books that still breathe with stories. And at the back of the room, lit by a single candle, stands a mirror that does not reflect the face, but something deeper.

In a quiet valley lies a guesthouse without sharp edges or straight lines. Its walls curve, its halls murmur, and its rooms seem to remember something you have forgotten. The Room Without Corners is an atmospheric literary short story set in a mysterious inn where guests arrive without knowing why and leave lighter than when they came. A traveller steps inside, drawn by the warm glow of candlelight. The curved spaces lead them through moments of memory, comfort, and rediscovery.

Two party members, Peter and Nick, are canvassing for the upcoming by-election. Peter, the older and less physically fit, takes on the quieter end of Priory Road, with its old Victorian houses. But as Peter advances up the road, the atmosphere becomes more unworldly and unsettling. What awaits Peter at the end house?

A bedtime story for adults that soothes the mind and a sleep story for adults that invites you to rest in rhythm with a slower world. On a quiet cobbled street, above a glowing bakehouse, a small window opens to the scent of fresh bread and the first light of dawn. Inside the flat above the bakery, the day unfolds without urgency. A kettle sighs. Curtains drift. Light moves slowly across a worn tablecloth. Nothing needs to happen. And yet, everything feels alive. The Window Above the Bakery is a gentle, literary sleep story for adults.

London, 1943. The streets of Hounslow hide more than ration books and blackouts. A killer is working to a quiet rhythm of death, leaving behind bodies drained of blood and arranged with disturbing care. The press have their theories. The police have few leads. Theodore Nash doesn’t believe in monsters. He sees detail, intent, and the human mind behind every crime. A forensic consultant by trade, and a man more comfortable with puzzles than people, Theo has made a life of distance and control.

This tongue-in-cheek look at all the iconic, memorable, and not-so-great things we grew up with in the 1980s will make you laugh, cry, and possibly even re-evaluate your life choices. At the very least, it'll make you fire up ebay to go buy a vintage Mr. Frosty to see what you missed out on.

The poems of this book were written at very various times, one (“Wind over the Sea”) I believe even as early as 1910, but the order in which they are here given is not chronological beyond the fact that the third part contains only poems written after the outbreak of the war. Of these some were written in England (at Oxford in particular), some in Wales, and very many during a year in France from November 1915 to December 1916, which was broken by one leave in the middle of May.