Sleep story · winter, still
A field under snow — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are tired of apps — for jet lag
Everything muffled, everything white, and no tracks but yours.
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 snow came down all afternoon and has now stopped, leaving the field completely unmarked. The snow on the branches is holding, and every so often a small amount slides off. There are no footprints anywhere except the ones behind you.
A single crow crosses the field and lands on the fence, then thinks better of it. The light is flat and grey and does not cast shadows. There is a gate at the far end of the field, half buried and not going anywhere.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Your ankles can go loose now.
The sound of your own boots is the loudest thing for half a mile. Nothing in this field needs to be done today or tomorrow.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you. Notice the moment you realise you've drifted. That moment is the whole skill.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last.
Slower. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. You do not have to count them.
No account, no streak, no notification asking how you feel.
The end. Sleep well.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for winter, still.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a boat at anchor, when you have woken up too early — for a night when you do not want to think, A bus at night, when you want something simple — for a racing mind or Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when nothing else has worked today — for winding down.