Sleep story · warm, winter
A fire dying down (a sleep story), when you are somewhere noisy — for an overtired night
The last hour of a fire, when it stops being a fire and becomes warmth.
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 fire has stopped being flames and is now mostly red shapes that shift and settle. There is a smell of woodsmoke in the room that will still be there tomorrow. There is a blanket over your legs that you did not consciously arrange.
The heat reaches about a metre from the fire and stops. Every few minutes a piece of wood falls in on itself with a small collapse of sparks. The window is black, and the glass is cold if you touch it.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Let your palms open if they were closed.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
The ash in the grate is deep and soft and grey at the edges. The fire will be out in half an hour and nobody needs to watch it happen.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
If your mind is quiet, don't grab at it. Quiet comes and goes too. If you're replaying a conversation, let it play. It'll finish on its own.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
Just the dark. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. You can stop listening properly. Let them.
Noise is fine. You are not trying to hear anything subtle.
Let everything get quiet, including this.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, winter.
If this story does not settle you, try Rain on the roof, Sleep story: a lighthouse at the end of a long day, when the weather has kept you inside — for an overtired night or An attic room (a sleep story), if you have done this a hundred times — for a racing mind.