Sleep story · quiet, home

The house after everyone is asleep (a sleep story), when you have been putting it off — for an overtired night

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.

Read it myself

Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.

The story, in full

Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone. There is nothing left on the list for today. The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen.

The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them. A glass of water sits on the table, half finished. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall.

Let your calves spread out and flatten. Notice your hips, wide and settled.

Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.

Everything in the room is exactly where it was left. There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day.

Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

Notice how quickly your mind labels things: good, bad, boring, nice. Notice anything you're holding onto from earlier today.

Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.

Just the weight. Let the dark be ordinary.

Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Leave it there. The words can start to blur now.

You have been putting this off. Starting is the only step that matters.

I will stop here. The quiet will carry on without the words.

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, home.