Sleep story · winter, still
A field under snow, when the day has been loud — for a night when you do not want to think
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 air is so cold it feels dry, and your breath is visible for a long time. A single crow crosses the field and lands on the fence, then thinks better of it. There are no footprints anywhere except the ones behind you.
The fence posts are capped with snow and look shorter than they are. Nothing in this field needs to be done today or tomorrow. Your hands are warm inside your gloves and cold at the wrists.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Feel your cheeks let go.
The light is flat and grey and does not cast shadows. The snow on the branches is holding, and every so often a small amount slides off.
Let your hands be completely still. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Let the mattress take all of it. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
There is a gate at the far end of the field, half buried and not going anywhere. The farmhouse at the top of the hill has one window lit.
Notice any part of you that wants this to be over. If you're thinking about the next thing on your list, that list will still be there.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
Almost nothing to do now. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. Let it all get further away. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing.
For days that were loud from the moment they started.
Goodnight. There is nothing left to do.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for winter, still.
If this story does not settle you, try A field under snow (a sleep story), when you are not sure this will work — for winding down, Sleep story: a fire dying down, when you are at home and cannot settle — for an overtired night or A lake before dawn — a slow story for the end of the day, before you go back to something hard — for jet lag.