Sleep story · warm, winter
A fire dying down, before you go back to something hard — for a night when you do not want to think
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 logs beside the fireplace are down to the last two. There is a blanket over your legs that you did not consciously arrange. Every few minutes a piece of wood falls in on itself with a small collapse of sparks.
The fire has stopped being flames and is now mostly red shapes that shift and settle. 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.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
Somewhere in the house, a door closes and everything goes quiet again. There is a smell of woodsmoke in the room that will still be there tomorrow.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
The heat reaches about a metre from the fire and stops. The dog is asleep on the rug, on the side nearest the heat.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
The ash in the grate is deep and soft and grey at the edges. The room has gone darker than you noticed, and the light is all low and orange.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
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.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
There is a blanket over your legs that you did not consciously arrange. The heat reaches about a metre from the fire and stops.
Notice the exact moment your attention left. You probably won't catch it. That's normal. If you're distracted by a sound, let the sound be the object for a moment.
Feel your cheeks let go. Feel your wrists loosen.
Stay with the weight of your body. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges.
Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Let the next part go past without you. You can stop listening properly.
Softer. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Sleep.
Five minutes here is cheaper than an hour of grinding.
The end. Sleep well.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, winter.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a hotel room somewhere, when you are short on time — for jet lag, The house after everyone is asleep, when you have woken up too early — for jet lag or Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when you have already had a long week — for an overtired night.