The Book of Wonders at Week’s End

Mouse sat curled in her chair, wrapped in a blanket far too big for her, with only the tips of her whiskers peeking out. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow painting the room in hues of gold and amber. Outside, the crescent moon hung low in the sky, as though listening, too.

She opened the book with careful paws, its spine creaking gently, and began to read aloud—not too loudly, for the fire was speaking, too, and she didn’t want to interrupt.

“Here,” she said, her voice soft but sure, “is a wish for those who have carried the week on their shoulders. A wish for rest, as deep and warm as the glow of the fire. May it wrap you up like this very blanket and hold you until your heart feels lighter.”

She paused, glancing up at the quiet faces of her listeners, who leaned in just a little closer. The fire cracked again, as if in agreement.

“And here,” she continued, turning the page, “is a sprinkle of magic, for those who may have missed it this week. It’s the magic of noticing. Of seeing how the moon rises differently every night, or how tea tastes sweeter when someone pours it for you. Of realizing that even in the busiest days, there’s always time to breathe, if only for a moment.”

She traced the next line with her paw, her voice growing even softer. “And this,” she whispered, “is the part I love most. ‘For every soul, there is a truth: you are enough. You are loved. The week may have been long, but you have carried it well. The world is brighter because of you.’”

The room was silent but for the crackle of the fire and the gentle rustle of the blanket as she turned the last page. “And here,” she said, with a little smile, “is the Glen’s promise. ‘When you are tired, return. There will always be a fire waiting for you, a chair that feels like home, and a story to remind you of all the magic you carry inside.’”

The mouse closed the book and set it on her lap, gazing into the flames as they danced. “It’s a good book, isn’t it?” she said, her voice barely above a murmur. “Sometimes, it’s the little things we need to hear most.”

And so they sat, the mouse and her quiet companions, as the fire told its own soft story, warming the room and the hearts within it. It was, after all, the end of the week, and what better way to greet the next than with a book full of wonders and a little time to simply be?

A little story written and illustrated for you by Victoria Beata
Copyright © 2025 Victoria Beata. All rights reserved.

[angelinalanzillotti]

I want to climb in that chair too, so cozy. 😊❤😊

[amandaturner]

Wish I was there too. So cosy, calm, relaxing and beautiful.🥰💖🇦🇺

[hopewilliams-mann]

This is just precious 💞 Reminds me of when my son was a little guy and we would cozy up in our big over stuffed lazyboy chair to read special stories before bed. Such great memories 🥹💞 My son is now soon to be a father, and I'm so excited for him and his wife 💞 I'm also very excited to be a grandma ☺️❤️

[justaLicE]

I wish I was at home all cozy reading a book instead of working 😫

[allie]

Beautiful, cozy moment when your problems drift away. ❤😘

[TheRickie]

Alone on my sofa, the fire crackling, I’d like just such a mouse to share my blanket, too!

[paulmessina]

Victoria, even your silent videos bring peace to my soul during these very troubling times in the United States. Sometimes, I think to myself, the next four years in my country are going to be hell. I just wish, at 73 years old and over 50 years of hard work, that I could retire to The Glen. As a human, I’d respect each and every creature in that wonderful place. To me, it would be Heaven. Paul, New York City.

[allisonryder]

My inner child is responding to the scene with wonder and delight❤🇨🇦