Sleep story · travel, cozy
The night train — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for a racing mind
Somewhere between two cities, in the dark, where nobody needs anything from you.
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 train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet. There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees. A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again.
The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to. The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see. The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Let your palms open if they were closed.
Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
The window is cool against the side of your face. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Feel your cheeks let go.
The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees. The rhythm underneath you is steady enough to lean on.
If you're thinking about the next thing on your list, that list will still be there. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.
Feel your wrists loosen. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Let the room get slightly further away.
Sleep. Just the weight. The words can start to blur now.
Softer. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Let it all get further away.
Choosing this over scrolling counts as a good decision, even a small one.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.
21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, cozy.
If this story does not settle you, try A caravan by the sea (a sleep story), when you have been on screens all day — for the hours after a late shift, A lake before dawn, when you are at home and cannot settle — for winding down or A lighthouse at the end of a long day — a slow story for the end of the day, when you have already had a long week — for jet lag.