Sleep story · warm, winter
A fire dying down (a sleep story), when you cannot concentrate on anything else — for winding down
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 ash in the grate is deep and soft and grey at the edges. The fire has stopped being flames and is now mostly red shapes that shift and settle. Every few minutes a piece of wood falls in on itself with a small collapse of sparks.
The room has gone darker than you noticed, and the light is all low and orange. There is a blanket over your legs that you did not consciously arrange. The window is black, and the glass is cold if you touch it.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your palms open if they were closed.
The logs beside the fireplace are down to the last two. Somewhere in the house, a door closes and everything goes quiet again.
Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Let the mattress take all of it.
Notice the moment you realise you've drifted. That moment is the whole skill. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
Leave it there. Stay with the weight of your body.
Just the weight. Let them. Softer.
When concentration is gone, work with what is left.
That is the end of the story. Sleep is the next part, and it does not need instructions.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, winter.
If this story does not settle you, try A garden in the rain, when you want to finish something — for a restless night, The night train (a sleep story), on a day that started badly — for winding down or A caravan by the sea — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for a restless night.