Sleep story · quiet, home

The house after everyone is asleep — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are short on time — for a restless 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

Everything in the room is exactly where it was left. The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.

The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building. Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall.

Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let the mattress take all of it.

Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone. There is nothing left on the list for today.

Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Let your calves spread out and flatten.

Let your palms open if they were closed. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.

A glass of water sits on the table, half finished. The radiator clicks once as it cools down.

If you're sleepy, sit up a little. Or let the sleepiness be there. Your mind will leave about a hundred times. Come back about a hundred times.

Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.

You do not have to count them. Let it all get further away.

Softer. Let them. Stay with the weight of your body.

Pick this one when you are short on time.

Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.

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