Sleep story · still, water
A lake before dawn (a sleep story), when you need something unremarkable — for the hours after a late shift
Flat water, no wind, and light that has not arrived yet.
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 wooden jetty a few metres out, with one plank that has gone grey and soft. The far shore is a dark line with no detail in it yet. There is a coil of rope on the deck, still damp from yesterday.
A single bird crosses the water low and slow, without calling. The water makes a small sound against the posts, once every few seconds. Somewhere behind you, a gate opens and closes.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
The sky is the colour of unpolished pewter. The mist sits about a foot above the surface and does not move.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Nothing on the lake is in a hurry, including you. The air is cold in a clean way, and smells of water and cut grass.
Notice if you're waiting for something to happen. Nothing is scheduled. Notice how you're sitting. Adjust if you need to. Then settle again.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Just the breath.
Let the dark be ordinary. Slower. Let the next part go past without you.
Nothing dramatic happens here, and that is deliberate.
The end. Sleep well.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for still, water.
If this story does not settle you, try A caravan by the sea — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are somewhere noisy — for a restless night, A lighthouse at the end of a long day, after a difficult conversation — for winding down or A bus at night (a sleep story), before something difficult — for a racing mind.