Sleep story · quiet, home
The house after everyone is asleep (a sleep story), when you are somewhere unfamiliar — for the hours after a late shift
The hour when the house belongs to nobody and nothing needs doing.
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 floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them. The radiator clicks once as it cools down. Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day.
There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day. The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building. Everything in the room is exactly where it was left.
Feel your wrists loosen. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
Let your hands be completely still. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
A glass of water sits on the table, half finished. There is nothing left on the list for today.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Feel your cheeks let go.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let the mattress take all of it.
Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone. The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
If you're replaying a conversation, let it play. It'll finish on its own. If you're distracted by a sound, let the sound be the object for a moment.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
Softer. Slower.
The words can start to blur now. Let it all get further away. They will find their own way out.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. Let the dark be ordinary. Just the weight.
It travels well. Hotels, spare rooms, other people’s sofas.
I will stop here. The quiet will carry on without the words.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, home.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a hotel room somewhere, if you are fitting this around other people — for a racing mind, A caravan by the sea — a slow story for the end of the day, when your attention is scattered — for an overtired night or A field under snow (a sleep story), if you are fitting this around other people — for a restless night.