Sleep story · quiet, books
Sleep story: a library at closing time, when you have been putting it off — for the hours after a late shift
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. 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.
The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows. Someone is pushing a trolley two rows away, and you can hear each wheel separately. The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
The carpet has flattened every sound in the building down to nothing. Everything here will still be here tomorrow.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish. Your own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back. The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps.
Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
If a song is stuck in your head, let it play in the background. If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let your hands be completely still.
Slower. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.
Nothing here needs following closely. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Sleep.
Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Let the next part go past without you. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing.
You have been putting this off. Starting is the only step that matters.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.
If this story does not settle you, try The night train, when you have just finished work — for the hours after a late shift, A garden in the rain — a slow story for the end of the day, when you have just finished work — for winding down or A kitchen late at night (a sleep story), when you have been on screens all day — for a racing mind.