A Sensory Storytelling Revolution: Your Stories Need More Than Words

When I first handed a piece of velvet to a young person during story time, something magical happened. His eyes, which had been distant and unfocused throughout countless traditional storytelling sessions, suddenly lit up. He stroked the fabric, pressed it to his cheek, and for the first time in weeks, he smiled. That moment changed everything I thought I knew about storytelling.

Traditional storytelling relies almost entirely on auditory processing and visual imagination. But what about the children who experience the world differently? What about those for whom words alone create barriers rather than bridges? After years of working with young people with additional needs, I’ve discovered that the most powerful stories aren’t just told. They’re felt, smelled, touched, and truly experienced.

The Problem With Words Alone

We’ve been conditioned to believe that storytelling happens through language. We read from books, we speak clearly, we show pictures. Yet for many young people with additional needs, including those with autism, sensory processing differences, or communication challenges, this approach misses the mark entirely. It’s like trying to paint a sunset using only the colour blue.

I’ve watched children disengage during beautiful, carefully written stories simply because the medium wasn’t matching their learning style. Not because they couldn’t understand. Not because they weren’t interested. But because we were asking them to access narrative through a single, narrow pathway when their brains were crying out for something richer, more tangible, more real.

Enter Sensory Storytelling

Sensory storytelling transforms narrative from something you hear into something you inhabit. It’s about creating a multi-dimensional experience where every element of the story can be touched, smelled, heard, and felt. When you’re telling a story about a forest, why simply describe the trees when you can pass around pieces of bark, pine cones, and moss? Why talk about the smell of rain when you can spritz a gentle water mist?

This isn’t about gimmicks or entertainment for its own sake. It’s about accessibility, inclusion, and meeting young people exactly where they are. For a child who struggles with verbal processing, the weight of a smooth stone in their palm might communicate “river” more effectively than a thousand words ever could. For someone who finds eye contact overwhelming, the shared experience of investigating a textured fabric provides connection without pressure.

Building Your Sensory Toolkit

The beauty of sensory storytelling is that you don’t need expensive equipment or specialist training. Your toolkit can start small and grow organically. Here are ten props I return to again and again, each offering unique possibilities whilst remaining gentle and accessible for young people with varied sensory profiles.

1. Silk or Satin Fabric

Silk moves like water and feels cool against the skin, making it perfect for ocean scenes, rivers, or magical transformations. I drape it slowly over outstretched hands, allowing each person to experience the weight and flow at their own pace. For some young people, the smooth texture provides a calming sensory input. Others might prefer to watch it move rather than touch it directly. Use silk to represent anything fluid: emotions flowing, time passing, or characters travelling. Always offer the fabric rather than placing it on someone, and be mindful that some individuals may find the coolness surprising at first.

2. Faux Fur Pieces

Faux fur brings stories alive with warmth and softness, ideal for any creature or cosy setting. I keep several types: short pile for mice or rabbits, longer fur for bears or dogs, and fluffy pieces for birds or fantastical creatures. Before introducing faux fur, I gently demonstrate by stroking it myself, showing that it’s safe and pleasant. Some young people will immediately want to press it against their cheek or run their fingers through it repeatedly. This repetitive action can be incredibly soothing and should be welcomed rather than discouraged. For those who find fur overwhelming, offering the smooth backing side gives them an alternative way to participate. Faux fur also works beautifully for representing warmth, comfort, or home in more abstract narratives.

3. Natural Wooden Objects

Smooth wooden pieces, whether slices, blocks, or branches, offer wonderful weight and warmth. Wood feels alive in a way plastic never does, and it carries gentle scent too. I use wooden items for forests, houses, bridges, or even characters with strong, steady personalities. The temperature of wood is particularly special because it quickly warms to match hand temperature, creating a sense of connection. For young people who seek proprioceptive input (awareness of their body in space), the satisfying weight of wood can be grounding. Allow plenty of time for exploration. Some will tap the wood to hear its sound, whilst others will hold it close. Both responses tell you they’re engaged with the story world you’re creating together.

4. Smooth Stones or Pebbles

Cool, smooth stones offer a completely different tactile experience from wood. They stay cool longer and have a density that many young people find calming. I use stones for rivers, mountains, treasures, or even emotions (heavy feelings, solid ground beneath our feet). When offering stones, I’m careful to ensure they’re large enough to be safe, smooth enough not to scratch, and I always demonstrate their weight first. Some young people will roll stones between their palms, enjoying the pressure and the gradual warming. Others might prefer to simply hold one stone still, using it as a focusing point. In stories involving worry or anxiety, I sometimes invite participants to hold their worry in the stone, then gently set it down, physically releasing the feeling.

5. Lavender Sachets or Cotton Wool with Essential Oils

Scent is powerful but requires careful consideration. Our olfactory system connects directly to the limbic system, the part of the brain processing emotion and memory, which means smells can evoke strong responses. I use lavender most frequently because it’s generally calming and widely tolerated. I place a drop of essential oil on a cotton wool ball and keep it in a small container, then waft it gently nearby rather than holding it under anyone’s nose. This allows the scent to drift without overwhelming. Always ask “Would you like to smell this?” and accept any answer. Some young people will lean in eagerly, whilst others will recoil, and both responses are completely valid. For stories, lavender can represent gardens, bedtime, calm moments, or healing. Never use scent continuously; introduce it for specific story moments, then put it away.

6. Dried Leaves or Petals

Natural materials connect us to the seasons and the living world. I collect dried leaves in autumn and dried flower petals throughout the year, storing them carefully in boxes. Their fragility is part of their magic. When crunched gently, they create wonderful sounds. When scattered, they create visual beauty. When touched carefully, they teach gentleness. Before using dried leaves, I prepare young people by showing how delicate they are, demonstrating with my own hands first. For some individuals, the crispy texture is delightful. For others, the breaking apart might feel distressing, so I always have intact leaves available too. Use dried natural materials for autumn stories, transformation tales (things that change and crumble), or any narrative involving nature’s cycles. The impermanence of these materials actually adds to their value, teaching us about change and loss in a gentle, manageable way.

7. Bubble Wrap or Textured Surfaces

Bubble wrap provides satisfying sensory feedback and can represent many things: the sound of walking, rain, bubbles, excitement, surprise. I cut small pieces so each person has their own rather than sharing. The beauty of bubble wrap is that it offers choice: gentle pressing for small pops, or firm squeezing for bigger ones. This puts the young person in control of their sensory input, which is empowering. For those who might find the popping alarming, I demonstrate first with the volume they can expect, or I offer already-popped bubble wrap that still has interesting texture without the sound. Use bubble wrap for energetic story moments, transitions, or whenever you want to add an element of surprise and interaction. Be aware that some individuals might want to continue popping throughout the story, which is fine. The engagement matters more than silent attention.

8. Velvet or Corduroy Fabric

Directional fabrics like velvet and corduroy have a unique quality: they feel different depending on which way you stroke them. This makes them excellent for teaching about perspective, direction, or change. When you stroke velvet one way, it’s smooth and dark. Stroke it the other way, and it’s slightly rougher and lighter. This simple property can represent mood changes in characters, day turning to night, or journeys with different directions. I introduce these fabrics by demonstrating on my own hand first, showing both directions. Many young people find the directional quality fascinating and will experiment extensively. This isn’t distraction; it’s active learning. For individuals who struggle with abstract concepts, this concrete demonstration of things being different depending on viewpoint is invaluable. Use these fabrics for any story involving transformation, perspective, or the idea that things aren’t always as they first appear.

9. Small Bells or Chimes

Gentle sounds can mark important story moments without being overwhelming. I use small bells or chimes for magic, for character arrivals, for transitions between scenes, or for happy moments. The key word is gentle. I test every bell or chime before using it with young people, ensuring the sound is pleasant rather than sharp or jarring. I also demonstrate the volume they can expect by ringing it at the distance I’ll use during the story. This preparation prevents unwanted surprises. Some young people might want to ring the bell themselves, which is wonderful. Others might need to cover their ears even for gentle sounds, and I always validate this by acknowledging that everyone’s ears work differently. When someone rings a bell during a story, they’re not just participating; they’re controlling part of the narrative, which builds confidence and agency. Position bells as story helpers rather than toys, giving them specific jobs: “This bell tells us when morning comes” or “This chime means something magical is happening.”

10. Warm Wheat Bags or Cool Gel Packs (Both Wrapped Safely)

Temperature is a hugely underutilised storytelling tool. A gently warmed wheat bag can represent sunshine, a dragon’s breath, a cosy fire, or a warm hug. A cool gel pack (always wrapped in soft fabric) can represent ice, winter, nighttime, or the ocean depths. Temperature provides sensory input that’s difficult to ignore, which makes it powerful for drawing attention to crucial story moments. However, it requires extra care. I always test temperatures on my own skin first, ensuring they’re barely warm or barely cool rather than extreme. I wrap them in fabric so there’s no direct skin contact with anything too hot or too cold. I also hold them myself for a moment before offering them, showing they’re safe. When introducing temperature props, I explain what to expect: “This will feel warm like sunshine” or “This will feel cool like a winter morning.” For young people who struggle with unexpected sensations, this preparation is essential. Never leave temperature props with someone for too long; pass them around so everyone experiences them briefly. This prevents any risk of discomfort whilst still providing that memorable sensory moment that anchors the story in physical reality.

The Art of Timing and Choice

Effective sensory storytelling isn’t about overwhelming participants with constant stimulation. It’s about thoughtful, purposeful choices that enhance rather than distract. I typically introduce two or three key sensory elements per story, placed at crucial moments. When the character discovers treasure, that’s when the shiny, jingling coins come out. When night falls in the narrative, that’s when we dim the lights and perhaps introduce a gentle lavender scent for sleep.

Choice is equally crucial. Not every child will want to touch every object, and that’s absolutely fine. I always demonstrate first, then offer, never insist. Some young people might engage fully, whilst others prefer to watch and absorb from a distance. Both responses are valid. The sensory props are invitations, not requirements.

Beyond Entertainment: Real Benefits

The impact of sensory storytelling extends far beyond the immediate joy of the session. For young people with additional needs, these experiences build vocabulary through concrete association. The word “rough” means so much more when you’ve actually felt something rough whilst hearing the word. Abstract concepts become grounded in physical reality.

These sessions also provide safe opportunities for sensory exploration. Many young people with sensory processing differences need repeated, low-pressure exposure to various textures, scents, and sounds to build tolerance and understanding. Story context gives purpose and meaning to this exposure, making it therapeutic without feeling clinical.

Perhaps most importantly, sensory storytelling builds confidence and inclusion. When a non-verbal child can participate fully by choosing a fabric or reacting to a scent, they’re no longer on the periphery of the experience. They’re central to it. I’ve seen withdrawn young people become storytelling leaders, selecting props and guiding narratives, simply because we removed the language barrier that had previously held them back.

Starting Your Sensory Story Journey

If you’re feeling inspired to try sensory storytelling, start simple. Choose a familiar story and identify three moments where you could add a sensory element. Perhaps start with texture, as it’s often the easiest to source and the least likely to cause sensory overwhelm. Watch, listen, and learn from the young people you’re working with. They’ll quickly show you what resonates.

Remember that this approach isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence, creativity, and genuine connection. Your sensory toolkit will evolve based on the individuals you work with, the stories you tell, and the resources available to you. The magic isn’t in the props themselves but in the doorways they open.

Stories have always had the power to transport us, teach us, and connect us. By making them truly multi-sensory, we’re simply ensuring that power is accessible to everyone, regardless of how they process the world around them. And that’s not just good practice. It’s transformative.