Sleep story · warm, winter
A fire dying down, when the house is busy — 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 ash in the grate is deep and soft and grey at the edges. The window is black, and the glass is cold if you touch it. There is a blanket over your legs that you did not consciously arrange.
There is a smell of woodsmoke in the room that will still be there tomorrow. The room has gone darker than you noticed, and the light is all low and orange. The heat reaches about a metre from the fire and stops.
Let the mattress take all of it. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Feel your cheeks let go.
The dog is asleep on the rug, on the side nearest the heat. Somewhere in the house, a door closes and everything goes quiet again.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
The fire will be out in half an hour and nobody needs to watch it happen. The fire has stopped being flames and is now mostly red shapes that shift and settle.
If you're replaying a conversation, let it play. It'll finish on its own. Notice the difference between a thought and the space around it.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
Stay with the weight of your body. Let your breathing do the rest.
Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Let the next part go past without you. Leave it there.
It works with other people in the house. You do not need silence.
Goodnight. There is nothing left to do.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, winter.
If this story does not settle you, try A field under snow, if you have done this a hundred times — for a night when you do not want to think, An attic room — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are not in the mood — for jet lag or A lake before dawn, when you are at home and cannot settle — for jet lag.