Sleep story · quiet, books
Sleep story: a library at closing time, when you are on your own — for winding down
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
The reading room you are in has one lamp left on, and it is the one above your table. Everything here will still be here tomorrow. The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish.
Someone is pushing a trolley two rows away, and you can hear each wheel separately. The windows are dark enough now to reflect the room back at you. The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
A book lies open on the next table, face down, which is technically not allowed. Your own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it.
Let your hands be completely still. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections. There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows. The carpet has flattened every sound in the building down to nothing.
Let the mattress take all of it. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections. The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
A book lies open on the next table, face down, which is technically not allowed. The reading room you are in has one lamp left on, and it is the one above your table.
Notice if you're being hard on yourself about any of this. If you're counting the minutes, that's fine. Count them and come back.
Your chest can be still now. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
You do not have to count them. Let the quiet be boring.
Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Let it all get further away. You can stop listening properly.
They will find their own way out. Let the room get slightly further away. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last.
Being on your own is not required, but it does make this simpler.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a kitchen late at night, when you are not in the mood — for a racing mind, A fire dying down (a sleep story), when you cannot concentrate on anything else — for the hours after a late shift or Sleep story: the house after everyone is asleep, when you want something simple — for the hours after a late shift.