Sleep story · water, slow
A boat at anchor — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are on your own — for winding down
A small harbour, a rope that creaks, and a boat that moves about a metre in the night.
Lights off. Press begin and let the story read itself to you, at the pace of sleep.
Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.
The story, in full
The harbour is behind you, with three lights still on and the rest dark. The bunk is narrow, and you have the whole of it. The blanket smells faintly of salt and diesel.
Everything in the cabin is stowed, so nothing rattles. The rope to the anchor creaks as the boat turns very slightly. The boat is anchored in eight metres of water, and the chain makes a sound as it moves.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
Let your hands be completely still. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
The water slaps against the side in twos and threes. The hull moves against the water in a slow, regular way.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Let the mattress take all of it.
The cabin is low, and you have to bend your head to get into the bunk. There is a torch hanging by the hatch, and a chart folded on the table.
Notice any urge to check something. You can wait two more minutes. Notice the tone of your own inner voice. Is it kind?
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.
Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Nothing needs deciding tonight.
Softer. Slower now. Leave it there.
Being on your own is not required, but it does make this simpler.
The end. Sleep well.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for water, slow.
If this story does not settle you, try The night train — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are sceptical about all of this — for winding down, A lake before dawn (a sleep story), when you need something unremarkable — for a restless night or The night train — a slow story for the end of the day, if you have done this a hundred times — for jet lag.