The Apple of Contentment & The Golden Windows | Relaxing Sleep Story Audio

Tonight, settle in with two gentle and timeless tales, The Apple of Contentment and The Golden Windows, presented as a relaxing sleep story audio to help you unwind and drift into rest.

These quiet stories, written in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, offer a soft reflection on contentment, perspective, and the way we often see beauty more clearly from a distance than we do up close. With simple language and a calm, steady rhythm, they are perfect for bedtime listening.

As you listen, allow your breathing to slow and your thoughts to settle. Let the stories unfold, gently guiding you toward sleep.

And if you happen to drift off along the way… well, that's the point after all!  The stories will be here, waiting for you when you return.

🌙 Thank you for listening to Chapter & Pillow: Where Stories Drift into Sleep. Remember, Chapter and Pillow is always ad free and read by a real human, me! We were recently ranked in the top Sleep Podcasts for 2026 by PodRanker...what an honor. 

 💌 I’d love to hear from you—write to me anytime at chapterandpillow@gmail.com. Please feel free to share what you love, what could be improved, or any story suggestions you may have! 

 ⭐ If you’re enjoying these sleepy stories, please consider leaving a review or rating on your favorite podcast app. It helps more people find their way here.

Sweet dreams, and see you next time. Kathleen

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:12

Good evening. This is Kathleen with chapter in pillow, where stories drift into sleep. I'm so happy you're here tonight. Let's leave the day behind and open a quiet chapter together. Tonight's stories come from two different voices: The Apple of Contentment by P.B. Power, and Windows of Gold by Laura E. Richards. Written in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, these gentle tales were often meant to be read slowly, to be considered quietly, and perhaps to be felt more than fully explained. Each one offers a soft reflection on the way we see the world and the way we sometimes overlook what is already close to us. But before we begin, take a moment to settle in. Take a slow deep breath in. Hold it for just a moment and let it out slowly. Once again, one more slow deep breath in. Hold it and let it out slowly. Let your forehead smooth and relax. Let your eyes rest gently. Unclench your jaw. Sink a little deeper into your bed and let your breathing find its own quiet rhythm. And as the day begins to fade a little further away, imagine a quiet place. Simple, peaceful, where small things are noticed, and ordinary moments carry a quiet kind of beauty. There's nothing you need to do right now. Just follow the sound of my voice. And as you listen tonight, allow the stories to unfold in their own time. If you fall asleep, the story will be here next time when you return. And now the apple of contentment. The second daughter had one shoulder higher than the other, and eyebrows as black as soot in the chimney. Yet the woman loved her as well as she loved the other, for she herself had black eyebrows, and one shoulder higher than the other. The youngest daughter was as pretty as a ripe apple, and had hair as fine as silk and the color of pure gold. But the woman loved her not at all, for as I have said, she herself was neither pretty, nor had she hair of the color of pure gold. Why all this was so even Hans Fiffendrummel cannot tell, though he has read many books and won over. The first sister and the second sister dressed in their Sunday clothes every day, and sat in the sun doing nothing, just as though they had been born ladies, both of them. As for Christine, that was the name of the youngest girl. As for Christine, she dressed in nothing but rags, and had to drive the geese to the hills in the morning and home again in the evening so that they might feed on the young grass all day and grow fat. The first sister and the second sister had white bread and butter beside, and as much fresh milk as they could drink. But Christine had to eat cheese parress and bread crusts, and had hardly enough of them to keep good man hunger from whispering in her ear. This is how the churn clacked in that house. Well, one morning Christine started off to the hills with her flock of geese, and in her hands she carried her knitting, at which she worked to save time. So she went along the dusty road until by and by she came to a place where a bridge crossed the brook. And what should she see there? But a little red cap with a silver bell at the point of it hanging from the alder branch. It was such a nice, pretty little red cap, but Christine thought that she would take it home with her, for she had never seen the like of it in all her life before. So she put it in her pocket, and then off she went with her geese again. But she had hardly gone two score paces when she heard a voice calling her. She looked, and who should she see but a queer little grey man with a great head as big as a cabbage, and little legs as thin as young radishes? What do you want? said Christine, when the little man had come to where she was. Oh, the little man only wanted his cap again, for without it he could not go back home into the hill that was where he belonged. But how did the cap come to be hanging from the bush? Yes, Christine would like to know that before she gave it back again. Well, the little hill man was fishing by the brook over yonder when a puff of wind blew his cap into the water, and he just hung it up to dry. That was all there was about it. And now would Christine please give it to him? Christine did not know how about that. Perhaps she would, and perhaps she would not. It was a nice, pretty little cap. What would the little underground man give her for it? That was the question. Oh the little man would give her five Thalers for it, and gladly. No, five Thalers was not enough for such a pretty little cap. See, there was a silver bell hanging to it too. Well, the little man did not want to be hard at a bargain. He would give her a hundred Thalers for it. No, Christine did not care for money. What else would he give for this nice dear little cap? See, Christine, said the little man, I will give you this for the cap. And he showed her something in his hand that looked just like a bean, only it was as black as a lump of coal. Yes, good, but what is that? said Christine. That, said the little man, is a seed from the apple of contentment. Plant it, and from it will grow a tree, and from the tree an apple. Everybody in the world that sees the apple will long for it, but nobody in the world can pluck it but you. It will always be meat and drink to you when you are hungry, and warm clothes to your back when you are cold. Moreover, as soon as you pluck it from the tree, another as good will grow in its place. Now will you give me my hat? Oh yes, Christine would give the little man his cap for such a seed as that, and gladly enough. So the little man gave Christine the seed, and Christine gave the little man his cap again. He put the cap on his head and puff away he was gone as suddenly as the light of a candle when you blow it out. So Christine took the seed home with her and planted it before the window of her room. The next morning when she looked out of the window, she beheld a beautiful tree, and on the tree hung an apple that shone in the sun as though it were pure gold. Then she went to the tree and plucked the apple as easily as though it were a gooseberry, and as soon as she plucked it, another as good grew in its place. Being hungry she ate it, and thought that she had never eaten anything as good, for it tasted like pancake with honey and milk. By and by the oldest sister came out of the house and looked around. But when she saw the beautiful tree with the golden apple hanging from it, you can guess how she stared. Presently she began to long and long for the apple as she had never longed for anything in her life. I will just pluck it, said she, and no one will be the wiser for it. But that was easier said than done. She reached and reached, but she might as well have reached for the moon. She climbed and climbed, but she might as well have climbed for the sun, for either one would have been as easy to get as that which she wanted. At last she had to give up trying for it, and her temper was none the sweeter for that, you may be sure. After a while came the second sister, and when she saw the golden apple, she wanted it just as much as the first had done. But to want and to get are very different things, as she soon found, for she was no more able to get it than the other had been. Last of all came the mother, and she also strove to pluck the apple, but it was no use. She had no more luck of her trying than her daughters. All that the three could do was to stand under the tree and look at the apple and wish for it and wish for it. They are not the only ones who have done the like with the apple of contentment hanging just above them. As for Christine, she had nothing to do but to pluck an apple whenever she wanted it. Was she hungry? There was the apple hanging in the tree for her. Was she thirsty? There was the apple. Cold there was the apple. So you see, she was the happiest girl betwixt all the seven hills that stand at the ends of the earth, for nobody in the world can have more than contentment. And that was what the apple brought her. One day a king came riding along the road, and all of his people with him. He looked up and saw the apple hanging in the tree, and a great desire came upon him to have a taste of it. So he called one of his servants to him and told him to go and ask whether it could be bought for a potful of gold. So the servant went to the house and knocked on the door. What do you want? said the mother of the three sisters coming to the door. Oh nothing much. Only a king was out there in the road and wanted to know if she would sell the apple yonder for a potful of gold. Yes, the woman would do that. Just pay her the pot of gold, and he might go and pluck it and welcome. So the servant gave her the pot of gold, and then he tried to pluck the apple. First he reached for it, and then he climbed for it, and then he shook the limb. But it was no use for him to try. He could no more get it, well, than I could have if I had been in his place. At last the servant had to go back to the king. The apple was there, he said, and the woman had sold it, but try and try as he would, he could no more get it than he could get the little stars in the sky. Then the king told the steward to go and get it for him, but the steward, though he was a tall man and a strong man, could no more pluck the apple than the servant. So he had to go back to the king with an empty fist. No, he could not gather it either. Then the king himself went. He knew that he could pluck it, of course he could. Well, he tried and tried, but nothing came of his trying, and he had to ride away at last without having had so much as a smell of the apple. After the king came home he talked and dreamed and thought of nothing but the apple. For the more he could not get it, the more he wanted it. That is the way we are made in this world. At last he grew melancholy and sick for want of that which he could not get. Then he sent for one who was so wise that he had more in his head than ten men together. This wise man told him that the only one who could pluck the fruit of contentment for him was the one to whom the tree belonged. This was one of the daughters of the woman who had sold the apple to him for the pot of gold. When the king heard this, he was very glad. He had his horse saddled, and he and his court rode away, and so came at last to the cottage where Christine lived. There they found the mother and the elder sisters, for Christine was away on the hills with her geese. The king took off his hat and made a fine bow. The wise man at home had told him this and that. Now to which one of her daughters did the apple tree belong? So said the king. Oh, it is my oldest daughter who owns the tree, said the woman. So good. Then if the oldest daughter would pluck the apple for him, he would take her home and marry her, and make a queen of her. Only let her get it for him without delay. Prut, that would never do. What? Was the girl to climb the apple tree before the king and all of the court? No no. Let the king go home and she would bring the apple to him all in good time. That was what the woman said. Well, the king would do that. Only let her make haste, for he wanted it very much indeed. As soon as the king had gone, the woman and her daughter sent for the goose girl to the hills. Then they told her that the king wanted the apple yonder, and that she must pluck it for her sister to take to him. If she did not do as they said, they would throw her into the well. So Christine had to pluck the fruit, and as soon as she had done so, the oldest sister wrapped it up in a napkin and set off with it to the king's house, as pleased as pleased could be. Rap tap tap, she knocked at the door. Had she brought the apple for the king? Oh yes, she had brought it. Here it was all wrapped up in a fine napkin. After that they did not let her stand outside the door till her toes were cold, I can tell you. As soon as she had come to the king she opened her napkin. Believe me or not, as you please, all the same, I tell you that there was nothing in the napkin but a hard round stone. When the king saw only a stone he was so angry that he stamped like a rabbit and told them to put the girl out of the house. So they did, and she went home with a flea in her ear, I can tell you. Then the king sent his steward to the house where Christine and her sisters lived. He told the woman that he had come to find whether she had any other daughters. Yes, the woman had another daughter, and to tell you the truth, it was she who owned the tree. Just let the steward go home again, and the girl would fetch the apple in a little while. As soon as the steward had gone, they sent to the hills for Christine again. Look, she must pluck the apple for the second sister to take to the king. If she did not do that, they would throw her into the well. So Christine had to pluck it and gave it to the second sister, who wrapped it up in a napkin and set off for the king's house. But she fared no better than the other, for when she opened the napkin there was nothing in it but a lump of mud. So they packed her home again with her apron to her eyes. After a while the king steward came to the house again. Had the woman no other daughter than these two? Well, yes, there was one, but she was a poor ragged thing of no account, and fit for nothing in the world but to tend the geese. Where was she? Oh, she was up on the The hills now tending her flock. But could the steward see her? Yes, he might see her, but she was nothing but a poor simpleton. That was all very good, but the steward would like to see her, for that was what the king had sent him there for. So there was nothing to do but to send to the hills for Christine. After a while she came, and the steward asked her if she could pluck the apple yonder for the king. Yes, Christine could do that easily enough. So she reached and picked it as though it had been nothing but a gooseberry on the bush. Then the steward took off his hat and made her a low bow in spite of her ragged dress, for he saw that she was the one for whom they had been looking all this time. So Christine slipped the golden apple into her pocket, and then she and the steward set off to the king's house together. When they had come there, everybody began to titter and laugh behind the palms of their hands to see what a poor ragged goose girl the steward had brought home with him. But for that the steward cared not a rap. Have you brought the apple? said the king, as soon as Christine had come before him. Yes, here it was, and Christine thrust her hand into her pocket and brought it forth. Then the king took a great bite of it, and as soon as he had done so, he looked at Christine and thought that he had never seen such a pretty girl. As for her rags, he minded them no more than one minds the spots on a cherry. That was because he had eaten the apple of contentment. And were they married? Of course they were. And a grand wedding it was, I can tell you. It is a pity that you were not there. But though you were not, Christine's mother and sisters were. And what is more, they danced with the others, though I believe they would have rather danced upon pins and needles. Never mind, said they, we still have the apple of contentment at home, though we cannot taste of it. But no, they had nothing of the kind. The next morning it stood before the young Queen Christine's window, just as it had at her old home, for it belonged to her and to no one else in all the world. That was lucky for the king, for he needed a taste of it now and then as much as anybody else, and no one could pluck it for him but Christine. Now that is all of this story. What does it mean? Can you not see? Prut. Rub your spectacles and look again. And now the Golden Windows by Laura Richards. Once upon a time there was a little boy who lived on a farm. His family was poor and did not have money to pay a workman. So all day long he worked hard, helping his father in the field and taking care of the farm animals. But at the end of each day, when the work was done and the sun began to go down, there came an hour which was all his own. When this time came, he would often go to the top of a hill near his house and look across at another hill a long way away. There on the far-off hill stood a house with golden windows. As the sun went down, he would sit on the hill watching this house. But it seemed to him as if someone always closed the shutters just as darkness came and he could no longer see the beautiful windows. It looked like any other farmhouse. Then the little boy would go home to his dinner, wishing all the time that he could live in a house with golden windows. One morning, as the little boy sat down to eat breakfast, his father said, You have been a good boy and have been working very hard. So today you can have a holiday. Take this day and do anything you wish. But remember that for a farmer, any day you don't have to work in the fields is special. Use the day well and try and learn something good from it. The little boy thanked his father and decided to set off to see if he could find the house with golden windows. He took some bread and fruit to eat on the way, kissed his mother, and started off on his journey. He was not scared of getting lost because there was only one road that went by his farm. The nearest town was very far away, and there were no side roads other than those that led to each farmhouse. He saw that the farms along the way were owned by poor families such as his own. But as he walked, he thought to himself, there must be one rich family on this road, the people who own the house with the golden windows. It was fun to be walking like this and not working. He wasn't wearing shoes, and when he looked back, he laughed because it seemed as if the marks left by his feet were following him. He was very happy and sang and danced as he walked. The time went by quickly. Soon he came to a small river. He was feeling hungry and sat down under a large tree that grew next to the water. There he drank some cold water from the river and ate his food. As he was eating, he broke off some small pieces of bread as he had seen his mother do and left them under the tree for birds to eat once he had gone. When he was finished, he went on his way again. After walking a little more, the boy came to a high green hill. There, near the top of the hill, was the house he had come to find. At first he thought that the shutters were closed, for he could not see the golden windows, but he was sure that this was the right house. So he turned from the road and walked up to it. When he was near enough to see the house better, he could have cried, for there were no shutters and no gold. The windows were of normal glass like any others. A woman came to the door and asked the little boy very kindly what he wanted. At the end of every day I see your golden windows from the top of a hill near our farm, he said. And now I have come here to see them, but I find that they are only glass. The woman moved her head from side to side and laughed. We are poor farming people, she said, and I don't think there will ever be any gold about our windows. Anyway, glass is better than gold to see through. She asked the little boy to sit down and rest. She brought him a cup of milk and a cake and called her little girl, a child of his own age, to sit with him. The woman went back to her work, leaving the two children together to talk and play. Like the little boy, the little girl was not wearing shoes and was dressed in old clothes, but she was very pretty. Her hair was golden like the windows he had seen, and her eyes were blue like the midday sky. She told the little boy about the farm and showed him her baby cow, which was black with a white star on its head. He told her about his own cow at home, which had four white feet and was red like an apple. After they had talked and played and became friends, the little boy asked the little girl about the golden windows. She said that she knew all about them. You have taken the wrong way, she laughed. Come with me to the top of the hill behind our house, and I will show you the house you were looking for. As they walked, she told him that the golden windows could only be seen as the sun goes down. Yes, I have known that for a long time, said the little boy. They waited, and just as the sun was starting to go down, the little girl turned and pointed. There it is, she said, and one day, as soon as I am old enough, I am going to go and look for that house just like you. There on a hill far away stood a house with windows of gold. And when the little boy looked, he saw that the house was his own home. Then the little boy told the little girl that he could not stay longer because he had to get home before it was too late. He gave her his best stone, the white one with red lines around it that he had carried in his pocket for a year. She gave him three dried flowers that were special because she had made them herself. One yellow like the sun, one with spots, and one white like milk. He told the little girl goodbye and said that he was sure that he would see her again, but he did not tell her what he had learned. As he went down the hill, she stood in the dying light and watched him, wishing that what he had said about seeing her again would be true. It was dark before the little boy got back to his house, but he could see the light coming through the windows, making them look just as he had seen them from the top of the far-off hill. When he opened the door, his mother came to kiss him. His little sister ran and put her arms around him, and his father looked upon him and smiled. Have you had a good day? asked his father. Yes, he answered. I have had a very good day. And have you learned anything? Oh yes, said the little boy. I have learned that the house we live in has windows of gold. And now as this story comes to a close, you might find yourself thinking about those windows of gold, how they seem to shine from far away, glowing softly in the distance, and how, when seen up close, they were simply ordinary windows catching the light in just the right way. Sometimes the things we long for most seem brighter when they're far away, and yet the quiet beauty of our own lives can be just as golden when we pause long enough to notice it. Let your thoughts settle gently and let that feeling of quiet contentment stay with you.