Sleep story · quiet, books
A library at closing time — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are at home and cannot settle — for a racing mind
The last hour, when the lights go down row by row.
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 trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back. The carpet has flattened every sound in the building down to nothing. Your own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it.
The reading room you are in has one lamp left on, and it is the one above your table. The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish. Everything here will still be here tomorrow.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let the mattress take all of it.
A book lies open on the next table, face down, which is technically not allowed. The windows are dark enough now to reflect the room back at you.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point. Notice any part of you that wants this to be over.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Let it all get further away.
The words can start to blur now. You do not have to count them. Let the quiet be boring.
Being at home and unable to settle is a very specific problem.
That is the end of the story. Sleep is the next part, and it does not need instructions.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.
If this story does not settle you, try A hotel room somewhere (a sleep story), when you have tried everything else — for waking too early, A boat at anchor, when you have been meaning to start — for a racing mind or An attic room — a slow story for the end of the day, before you go back to something hard — for a night when you do not want to think.