Sleep story · quiet, home
The house after everyone is asleep — a slow story for the end of the day, before something difficult — 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 radiator clicks once as it cools down. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall. Everything in the room is exactly where it was left.
There is nothing left on the list for today. The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them. Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day. Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let your hands be completely still.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Your ankles can go loose now.
A glass of water sits on the table, half finished. The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.
Let the mattress take all of it. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
If your mind is quiet, don't grab at it. Quiet comes and goes too. Your mind will leave about a hundred times. Come back about a hundred times.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Let the room get slightly further away.
They will find their own way out. You can stop listening properly. Let them.
Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Nothing needs deciding tonight. Just the dark.
It works best in the hour before something difficult.
The end. Sleep well.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, home.
If this story does not settle you, try A lake before dawn — a slow story for the end of the day, before you go back to something hard — for waking too early, A library at closing time (a sleep story), when you are not in the mood — for waking too early or A field under snow (a sleep story), if you have done this a hundred times — for a racing mind.