Sleep story · warm, winter
A fire dying down — a slow story for the end of the day, when you feel fine and want to stay that way — for jet lag
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 dog is asleep on the rug, on the side nearest the heat. The window is black, and the glass is cold if you touch it. The fire will be out in half an hour and nobody needs to watch it happen.
The room has gone darker than you noticed, and the light is all low and orange. There is a smell of woodsmoke in the room that will still be there tomorrow. The ash in the grate is deep and soft and grey at the edges.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let your palms open if they were closed.
The heat reaches about a metre from the fire and stops. The fire has stopped being flames and is now mostly red shapes that shift and settle.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
There is a blanket over your legs that you did not consciously arrange. Somewhere in the house, a door closes and everything goes quiet again.
Notice the exact moment your attention left. You probably won't catch it. That's normal. If you're irritated, that's allowed. Irritation is just weather.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Let the next part go past without you. Nothing needs deciding tonight.
Just the breath. Let them. Nothing here needs following closely.
Feeling fine is a good reason to do this, not a reason to skip it.
Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, winter.
If this story does not settle you, try A lighthouse at the end of a long day — a slow story for the end of the day, when you want something simple — for jet lag, Sleep story: a hotel room somewhere, when you are short on time — for winding down or A boat at anchor, when you need something unremarkable — for the hours after a late shift.