Sleep story · cozy, rain
An attic room — a slow story for the end of the day, when you have more time than usual — for a racing mind
Sloping ceiling, rain on the roof a foot above your head.
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 air up here is warmer than downstairs and smells of old wood. The floorboards are bare and slightly uneven, and one of them always creaks. The rain on the roof tiles is much closer and louder up here than anywhere else in the house.
There is a box of things under the eaves that nobody has opened in years. The lamp is on the floor beside the bed because there is no room for a table. The rain changes intensity every few minutes and never quite stops.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
Let your hands be completely still. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
The room is in the roof, and the ceiling slopes so steeply that you have to duck near the window. There is a dormer window with a deep sill, and a mug left on it from last night.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
If your body wants to move, let it move, then come back. Notice if you're waiting for something to happen. Nothing is scheduled.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Let your breathing do the rest. Slower.
Let the quiet be boring. Sleep. Slower now.
This is the longer version, for a day with some slack in it.
Let everything get quiet, including this.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for cozy, rain.