Sleep story · quiet, home
The house after everyone is asleep — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are new to this — for winding down
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
Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house. Everything in the room is exactly where it was left.
The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall. A glass of water sits on the table, half finished.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day. The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day. The radiator clicks once as it cools down.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. There is nothing left on the list for today.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
The radiator clicks once as it cools down. Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone.
If a song is stuck in your head, let it play in the background. If you feel emotional, you don't have to explain it to anyone, including yourself.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
The words can start to blur now. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing.
Just the dark. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Let the room get slightly further away.
Slower now. Just the weight. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Nothing here assumes you have done this before.
Let everything get quiet, including this.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, home.
If this story does not settle you, try The night train — a slow story for the end of the day, when the day has been loud — for a racing mind, A field under snow — a slow story for the end of the day, on a day that started badly — for a restless night or The night train, when you have just finished work — for winding down.