Sleep story · water, slow
Sleep story: a boat at anchor, if you have five quiet minutes — for winding down
A small harbour, a rope that creaks, and a boat that moves about a metre in the night.
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 torch hanging by the hatch, and a chart folded on the table. The bunk is narrow, and you have the whole of it. The rope to the anchor creaks as the boat turns very slightly.
Everything in the cabin is stowed, so nothing rattles. The water slaps against the side in twos and threes. The blanket smells faintly of salt and diesel.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Let your hands be completely still.
Nothing out here is in a rush, and neither are you. The hull moves against the water in a slow, regular way.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
Your mind will leave about a hundred times. Come back about a hundred times. If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Your chest can be still now.
Slower. Nothing needs deciding tonight.
Just the weight. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Just the breath.
Five quiet minutes is enough. Ten is generous.
Let this be the last thing you listen to.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for water, slow.
If this story does not settle you, try The night train — a slow story for the end of the day, when you feel restless rather than tired — for a night when you do not want to think, A hotel room somewhere, if you are tired of apps — for a racing mind or Sleep story: an attic room, when you have already had a long week — for winding down.