Sleep story · quiet, books
A library at closing time, if you are doing this in the middle of the day — for an overtired night
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
Everything here will still be here tomorrow. The windows are dark enough now to reflect the room back at you. The carpet has flattened every sound in the building down to nothing.
The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows. Your own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it. The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Let your hands be completely still.
There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back. A book lies open on the next table, face down, which is technically not allowed.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Your chest can be still now.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
Someone is pushing a trolley two rows away, and you can hear each wheel separately. The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
The reading room you are in has one lamp left on, and it is the one above your table. The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
Everything here will still be here tomorrow. The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
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.
You might be planning something. Notice the planning, then come back. If a song is stuck in your head, let it play in the background.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Let it all get further away.
They will find their own way out. Nothing needs deciding tonight. The words can start to blur now.
Leave it there. Slower now. Slower.
Midday is an underrated time for this.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.
If this story does not settle you, try The house after everyone is asleep, if you have five quiet minutes — for a restless night, A caravan by the sea — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are somewhere noisy — for waking too early or A fire dying down (a sleep story), if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for an overtired night.