Sleep story · quiet, home
The house after everyone is asleep, after a difficult conversation — 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.
Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.
The story, in full
The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall. The radiator clicks once as it cools down.
A glass of water sits on the table, half finished. 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.
Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Let your hands be completely still.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
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.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone. There is nothing left on the list for today.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
If you've lost track of where we were, you haven't lost anything important. Notice the tone of your own inner voice. Is it kind?
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
The words can start to blur now. Let the next part go past without you.
Slower now. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Just the dark.
Let the dark be ordinary. Softer. Almost nothing to do now.
Difficult conversations leave a residue. This is for the residue.
Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, home.
If this story does not settle you, try A caravan by the sea — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for the hours after a late shift, A hotel room somewhere, if you are tired of apps — for an overtired night or Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when nothing else has worked today — for the hours after a late shift.