Sleep story · warm, winter
A fire dying down, when you are cold and want to be warm — for a racing mind
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
There is a blanket over your legs that you did not consciously arrange. The heat reaches about a metre from the fire and stops. 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. The room has gone darker than you noticed, and the light is all low and orange. The window is black, and the glass is cold if you touch it.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
Your chest can be still now. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
Every few minutes a piece of wood falls in on itself with a small collapse of sparks. The dog is asleep on the rug, on the side nearest the heat.
Your ankles can go loose now. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
The fire will be out in half an hour and nobody needs to watch it happen. The logs beside the fireplace are down to the last two.
If you're judging your performance, that's the same habit as judging everything else. Notice if you're being hard on yourself about any of this.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Slower now.
Nothing here needs following closely. You can stop listening properly. They will find their own way out.
Get a blanket first. Being cold defeats the point.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, winter.
If this story does not settle you, try An attic room — a slow story for the end of the day, when nothing else has worked today — for waking too early, A lighthouse at the end of a long day (a sleep story), when you have been putting it off — for a night when you do not want to think or A fire dying down (a sleep story), if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for waking too early.