The Sleepwalker

The Sleepwalker Part One: Parasomnia

I'll admit, guilty as charged, that I am a sleepwalker.

Now in your mind, that might not mean much. 'Sure, the kid sleepwalks,' you might say, 'I sometimes do as well. Who cares?'

The Headmaster sure does.

Almost every single night, I'll wake up in different places around the derelict orphanage/pumpkin patch hybrid. I suppose the Headmaster thought up the ingenious plan that you should use the kids who no one cares about for free labor, mistreating us and such. We also live with our neighbors being tall fir trees and yellow-gold maples. Sometimes a tractor or two passes us. It's not like we get many visitors who'd complain or, as I mentioned before, care about the Headmaster's treatment of us. But anyway, I sleepwalk around. Not by choice. More than once I've been caught out past curfew, and more than one kid had used the excuse of 'sleepwalking', so that wasn't a good excuse to use anymore.

Not only that, but the chances of someone being asleep and somehow getting past the locked doors, multiple adults doing random jobs around the three-floor building, and out the final door just to be caught loitering around the lawn are really low.

If that sounds really specific, it's because it happened to me five hours prior.

I now sat, alone, sweating, in the Headmaster's office. I swear he liked to leave the troublemakers alone in the room for a bit, let them squirm, make it awkward, then he'd arrive.

The office was clean and small. Two rickety wooden chairs sat on one side of the ornate oak desk, and a probably expensive black-leather 'throne' on the other. The rest of the office was basically empty, save for a scrap wood door with a heavy padlock off to my left. It was cold in here and something smelt sweetly rotten, like an apple left out for too long. I shivered right as the door behind me opened, and the Headmaster walked in. He didn't speak until he sat on his chair and put his feet up on the desk.

"Hello, Ben." He said, opening a drawer and pulling out a candy. "Lollipop?"

I didn't nod, nor did I speak. The tangents he went on when a kid said yes were unbearable.

The Headmaster tore off the wrapping and shoved it in his mouth. "So, Ben, correct me if I'm wrong, but Mrs. Anita found you outside past curfew." He paused, waiting for me to correct him. I didn't. "Why were you outside? You know the rules, riiiight?"

I shook my head yes as fast as I could. My hand still had cramps up from the last time he wanted me to write down all fifteen rules, each a hundred times.

"I just don't get the truth in that simple nod." He said, smiling. "Because all you do is lie. You're a liar. You are nothing special. Now, what were you doing outside?"

I gulped the saliva I had been storing in my mouth down before speaking. "I don't know... I was sleepwalking."

The Headmaster didn't look amused. "Oh? Really? Come on, really sell it to me. A... burglar stole your pillow, you were outside to get it. Or, ooh, it was a dare made by another kid, and he'd hurt you if you didn't complete it. Come on Ben, I've heard them all. Gonna make up a new excuse? An original lie?"

"It isn't a lie!"

The Headmaster suddenly pulled his feet off the desk and looked at me with a murderous glint in his eyes. Rumors about him being an actual murderer floated around, and he was here as his 'community hours' whatever those were. My knowledge of the outside world was severely limited, as you can probably tell.

"Alright Ben. I'm tired of you. Absolutely sick and tired. If you won't tell me why, then you'll tell me how."

I kept my eyes on the wood desk, not daring to look up again.

"How did you get outside? A secret exit the other brats showed you? Where?"

I shook my head no. The Headmaster grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head back so that we were eye-to-eye. I realized how ugly he looked. And I was past the point of caring what he did to me.

"Kids are disappearing." He growled. "Every night more go missing. Are they running away using that secret escape route you know of?"

I had to do it. He was just oh so close. I spat on his face.

"You're disgusting," I gulped, maintaining eye contact "how your daughter can even look at you without barfing is beyond me."

That earned me a slap. My face burned with pain.

"How about a day and night in the Cellar?" He growled, angry. "Maybe that will loosen your lips since they'll be dryer than a piece of parchment when I'm through with you."

He pulled me by my hair over to the poorly built wooden door and put a key into the padlock. He seemed to have mastered the art of holding a kid in one hand and unlocking the door with the other because he didn't even struggle. Neither did I; I had already accepted my fate with a pained expression. It felt worth it now, I knew it wouldn't in a few hours.

"Have a nice trip," He snarled, throwing open the door. Darkness sat at the bottom of a long flight of stairs.

Then he shoved me down.

Have you ever fallen down thick, carpeted stairs? It hurts but is bearable. These were not carpeted. These were poorly made from poorly cut wood and poorly screwed screws that didn't go into the wood all the way.

These were stairs made with pain in mind.

I bounced down, trying to get my footing, but to no avail. It hurt. A lot. A friend had put a bunch of loose dirt at the bottom, so the landing didn't hurt as much as the fall, but still sent daggers of pain down my spine. The Headmaster laughed and slammed the door above, shutting off ninety percent of the light. I was alone once more.

The Cellar was not named correctly. It was more of a boxy cave, with stone walls and a dirt floor riddled with holes. Not even thinking twice, I hopped down and curled in one, trying to conserve heat in the damp, frigid cold. I imagined myself storming up to the door, breaking it open, and showing the Headmaster what pain I felt almost every day of my life. This 'other' me, who I nicknamed Jack, was tough with large muscles and could rip open the door with a flick of the middle finger. I always had this thing where I'd imagine an issue I was having, and then Jack would swoop in and save me, like a big brother I never had. But this time was different. While the rage that I had been saving up in my chest began to boil and break free of its containment, I felt something weird. Beyond weird. I began to feel hot and began to sweat, even though it was close to freezing in the Cellar. Then I heard a voice.

"I'm here,"

I'd heard it before, but I didn't know where. Then, without another thought, I promptly passed out.

I had dreams. Realistic dreams that made no sense. First I saw a woman. She had a lovely smile, but it was very obviously threaded with pain. A shadow of a man appeared, but his silhouette drained of color as the darkness swirled inside me. Then everything went to heck as I stood up in the dream. It was surreal, watching out of my own eyes as I ascended the stairs, my body not doing what I told it to. It was like something else inside me was controlling this bone robot with meat armor. Like I had two brains. I half-crawled, half-snuck up the stairs, and got to the door. I held up an arm, which was jet black, and each finger was long and pointed. The arm stretched and slashed the door, rendering it to splinters. I didn't feel the shards of wood dig into my shadow arm. I didn't feel anything.

The Headmaster sat at his desk, reading the paper, but looked up in fear when he saw me. He began to stutter.

"What... what... are... what are you?"

Shadow me reached over and grasped his neck in one of my claws. A voice, low, guttural, and emotionless responded to the man.

"I'm the Sleepwalker. And you're dead."

Something popped, and the Headmaster fell to the floor, motionless. I stared at it, starting to worry about how real this looked. Then I felt a pulling sensation as if something was behind and had a firm grip on me, trying to bring me back down to the Cellar. The black edges of my vision were also pulled back, and it felt like I shrunk a foot.

I, perfectly normal, stood right in front of the Headmaster's corpse. I looked down at my hands. They too were normal, and not shadow-like. That was no dream.

"That was a new reality."

I frantically looked around the office, but I didn't see whoever spoke. I swallowed hard. Trust me when I say that I was not in the right headspace at that moment, but I knew that voice was not mine and definitely not human.

"Hello?"

No response. I tried several more times, but no one said anything. I turned around and looked at the mess that was the Cellar door. No no, this couldn't be happening. It shouldn't be happening. What was happening?

I raced out the office door and came face-first with Mrs. Anita, a lady who had caught me outside, standing there, a plate of cookies in hand. She looked past me and most likely saw the body. She screamed, and I flinched in reflex. That somehow triggered the shadow again, and my vision went dark, my body contorted, and I lunged forward, stabbing her with my sharp fingertips. I watched it all, unable to stop... and no I did not take enjoyment from that. I reverted to normal and realized I had the tips of my fingers in her dead form, but they were no longer sharp. I heard the voice laugh.

"Woo! Been a while, wouldn't you agree?"

"Shut up!" I cried, running away from the body that was sitting in a pool of blood. Her blood. Blood that was now on my hands.

"Kinda comical how easy that kill was."

"I asked you politely to shut up," I said to myself, assuming that the voice was inside me. "Now I'm asking you violently TO SHUT UP!"

The voice began again, so I shoved my head against the wall, hard, and screamed out. It did nothing to drown out the voice.

"Ben, Ben, Ben, give up. We're one in the same! You are my creator."

I ignored my headache. "And you are the traitor. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

I was the creator? What did that even mean?

Shoving the thought from my head and into a dark cage at the back of my mind, I went to the kitchen door and opened it easily. Inside, to my horror, were two young boys whom I considered friends.

I faltered a bit. The clean kitchen wasn't very big, and the meals that the boys were preparing were just plain sandwiches, but I was not keen on dirtying the place with blood. I dived past the door, and out of their sight.

"Benny?" I heard one shout. I hoped against the probability that none of them would walk up and look at me. I was still unsure at this point what brought the Sleepwalker-thing-voice out, and was in no rush to test it out on a friend.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted, just as a boy passed the threshold of the door.
My eyes went wide as he stood there, staring. He saw the blood, he saw me, he saw the Sleepwalker.

"You need to leave!" I said, surprised how he wasn't dead yet. Then I blinked. And it happened. My body turned black as night, disfiguring, vision darkening. The boy didn't stand a chance as I watched, unable to stop, as the Sleepwalker stabbed him in the heart.

"Yawn. I'm getting bored. Mind if I switch it up a bit?"

I returned to normal and looked down at the young boy's body. He looked right back with gray, glassy eyes.

"What the heck bro," said the other boy in the kitchen. I made the mistake of looking at him and blinking.

The second my eyes closed he was a goner, and the Sleepwalker, true to his word, did not stab him. Instead, he-I-us picked up a knife as we slowly walked toward him. The black shadow absorbed it like a mud puddle would do to your shoe. The Walker brandished it as the boy watched, transfixed, at the monster that I was.

I wanted to close my eyes as my friend died, but that's where I realized that just might be how I got into this problem. When my eyes close... people die, or more specifically whoever is in my vision before my lids snap shut.

I reverted and stumbled a bit, slipping on blood.

Blood that was not mine.

"Dreams really do come true,"

I growled as if I were fully turning into the predator that I was trying to stop. I think I shouted 'shut up' a few hundred more times as I left the kitchen and got into the main foyer, but I don't remember.

"Killing... It's an art. Pure art. Just the way gore flows, everything, it's all amazingly beautiful." The voice chuckled. "Don't believe me? How many people out there love bloody horror in their tv shows? How about those comics? Death is attractive."

Whatever the Sleepwalker was, it had a dark sense of humor. And I hated it.
The main entrance was blissfully empty, since, judging by the light coming through the big window over the door, most of the kids were in class, with a few being out in the fields.

I ran right to the door and had my hand on the knob right when she shouted my name.

"Ben?!" At first, it was in surprise.

"Ben!" Then it was in joy.

"Ben?" Now the tone was questioning. I kept my eyes trained on the door.

"Oh, Ben..." I detected a new emotion. One they call fear.

Lydia was actually the closest friend I had in that whole hellhole, despite our opposite genders. Yes, I had considered romance, but it had never evolved from a wonderful dream into a reality. Instead, I got a nightmare brought true.

"Ben? Are you... Is that blood?"

I swallowed hard, not looking at her. "I need to leave."

"What? I know we always had plans to escape but you really want to do that now?"

I shook my head. "I need to leave alone. I'm... not who you think I am. Not anymore."

"I don't believe that."

I couldn't let her approach me. I had to leave.

"Yes, Lyd. That is blood on me, and on my hands. I killed the Headmaster. I killed Mrs. Anita, and the two boys in the kitchen."

Her breath caught. "Eugene and Steve?"

"Yes. I did. Not on..." I was about to say purpose but decided that in order to protect her I needed to hurt her. Not my proudest moment. "I did it on purpose. I enjoyed it."

"Heh. That's the spirit."

I continued on, ignoring what seemed to be a gasp from behind. "I am not Ben. I am the Sleepwalker. I will hurt you if you get in my way."

Lydia, smart as she was, obviously believed it. Something broke inside me (I think it was my heart) when I realized she thought I was capable of such violence, without the Walker's help.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, twisting the doorknob. It was locked. So I kicked it. Which surprisingly didn't work. I tried about three times before giving up. As I considered my other options something hit the door above me and fell to the floor with a clatter. A single copper key, one I had entrusted with Lydia weeks earlier after finding it in the fields. I picked it up and opened the door. I didn't say another word as I slipped out and tossed the key back inside before closing the heavy wooden door.

Mentally gathering up the pieces of my heart and conscience, I shoved them deep inside and looked around.

Ahead, past the road, was the corn fields. Easy to get lost, but also an easy meal, even if it was starchy cow corn.

Around was the forest. Oranges clashed with reds and yellows, with a few greens from the oaks and fir trees. I'd be hard to find, and I could see myself actually living out there off berries and hunting. Only problem was that I didn't know how to hunt or what berries wouldn't paralyze me just so I could get ripped apart by some bear.

"Well Ben, we've come to a crossroads. I vouch for the forest... Oh, who am I kidding? I just wanna go ham on those kids."

I was a bit confused at what the Sleepwalker said, but ignored it and decided to just go with y'know, the forest, but then realized another slight hindrance: The pumpkin patch stood between me and the autumn forest. And kids were out working the fields.

"Ooh, technique practice."

I disregarded it and surged forward, eyes on the sky. A few times I blinked with just the tips of the kids' heads in my vision, and they met their ends in various ways; strangled by pumpkin vine, stabbed, or beheaded. I felt sick but needed to get to the forest. There I could live alone or die without any more death. So I ignored their screams and the gurgling noise and pushed onward. By now the rusty scent of blood had become normal, which scared me more than anything else.

Running with my eyes away from the ground is never a good idea. More than once I stumbled or ran into wheel carts to be sold off-site for the Headmaster. I wondered who'd run the place now, and I hoped the kids would run off for a better life. Hopefully away from where I was running, of course. Anyway, I fell, tripped on a vine, and face-planted into a pumpkin, breaking through the top and feeling like I broke my jaw. Disorientated, I looked up to find an older boy looking down at me. I blinked, chin still laying in pumpkin goop, expecting the worst... but nothing happened. We just kinda looked at each other, horrified for our own reasons. That was when I learned the Sleepwalker's weakness; pumpkin.

Why or how, I didn't know, and it sure as heck was random. I stood, scooped up the goop, and held it to my nose; The boy didn't die. I felt like jumping for joy but shook my head as I didn't know how long the smell of pumpkin would last. What if it was only fresh stuff that worked? I didn't know. So I ran.

I soon reached the edge of the trees, ready to plunge into them... but I hesitated. I gave a pause. Leaving the only life I'd ever known. To be alone.

"I'll never leave you," the voice said, sounding quieter, tamer.

I wish it would. What was wrong with me?




Across the table from Ben, the therapist wrote everything down on a clipboard, using a black metal arm to clutch the pen. It hurt Ben on many levels to go back and retrace his horrid steps, but the therapist forced him to.

Jack, as the voice inside Ben's head had been unaffectionately named, grumbled that Ben had left out the gory details.

"I've asked that question over and over again." Ben continued, wrapping up his story. "No one can answer it."

The therapist looked up. "Have you heard the voice recently?"

"No."

Ben would have shaken his head, but the weird people around him had put a heavy orb helmet on his head. Inside, an orange light shone, and the small eye holes let him see twenty percent of the outside world. Oh, and two tubes had been shoved up his nose, which constantly shot the smell of pumpkin into his nostrils. It was a petty existence.

"Well, that's good. We're one step closer to reverting you to normal."

He went through some exercises to calm down in case I got all 'murderous', but I could barely hear him over Jack, who went on and on about how stupid the doctor was.

"... And so, breathe in, breathe out. Ben, are you even listening? You seem distracted."

"Nope, I'm still... I'm just listening." I lied. The therapist looked skeptical.

"Fine then. I'd love to ask you about what happened before we found you in the forest, but..."

The memory was pure pain in Ben's head. He resisted the urge to make the therapist shut up, violently.

"... our time is up. I'll ask the higher-ups about another meeting."

"Please don't," Jack echoed Ben's thoughts.

"Until then," the therapist continued, "enjoy your stay at the Society's SSS." He clapped once, and the door behind him opened. Both a man and a woman wearing black armor walked in. Ben noted they both had metal arms, just like the therapist. They also wore black helmets, and even though the light above him was bright, he couldn't see inside.

They forcefully pulled him to his feet.

"Come with us, divergence.." The man said, sounding beyond bored.

"We - I - prefer Sleepwalker," Ben mumbled. He didn't expect much, but it was a little bit of rebellion that gave him a little bit of dopamine.

"Excuse me?"

Oop, dopamine's worn off.

"I said my name is the Sleepwalker." Ben repeated, a bit louder, not caring about the repercussions now, "Not monster. Not divergence. Not even Ben."

The male suppressed a laugh by half snorting, half coughing into his metal arm. "What, you think you're some superhero? Give yourself a special name for what? Do you mind if I remind you that you've killed over a few dozen people? You're a creep. Nothing but a divergence, a - dare I say it - monster."

Before he knew what he was doing, Ben had spun and thrown himself onto the dude that was mocking him, knocking both him and the other man to the ground with his heavy chains and helmet.

"Don't talk to me like that," Ben said aloud in a voice he knew was not his.

'Jack, what are you doing?!' Ben frantically asked inside his head. Suddenly, Ben felt his nervous system shut down as the female by the door poked him with her robotic forefinger, which sparked and sizzled. Ben didn't know that they had that, but now he did.

He slumped forward unto the Agent, who threw him off accordingly. "Who do you think you are?"

Ben could barely move, but he managed to slur just a few words.

"I am the Sleepwalker."

The man rolled his eyes and grabbed the chains on Ben's wrists as he roughly hauled him to his feet. "Sure kid. Whatever helps you sleep at night.."

They took him outside the door, half dragging him and half him trying to stand, and suddenly, he realized he was on Earth no longer, considering he was staring out a completely ginormous window at the blueish-greenish orb.

"What the...?"

Below the catwalk that they were on, thousands of people worked at computers, all facing the terrestrial sphere. Ben didn't know what was more impressive: the fact he was in space, the fact he had gravity in space, the sheer size of the room, or the number of people in the room. Needless to say, even Jack was amazed.

"My, my, my, so many targets."

A thin man in a white overcoat walked over to them.

"Hi there..." He looked down at the little screen on his arm. "... Ben. I am Overseer Sickle, I'll be your caretaker since you'll be in my Cellblock. Ben, you must be feeling very nonplussed..." The man who held Ben by the wrists cut Sickle off with a chuckle.

"No no Overseer, he wishes to be identified as 'The Sleepwalker', or else he'll get violent."

To be fair, Ben didn't exactly know what being nonplus was exactly, but he was so confused he didn't exactly care all that much. "I am in... space?" he said hesitantly.

"Oh yes," Sickle replied, smiling and adjusting his nerdy glasses, "Welcome to the Solar System Station. The Society uses it as a big prison for divergences like you. I believe even some ghosts are being kept here."

"Why didn't I know about this place before?"

"Because you were human before. the Society likes to keep anything that's unacknowledged here. Anything that would break humans' lives to know existed. per se, a monster that would come out once a certain person closes their eyes. Even ghosts. Don't get me started on ghosts. They may look cute but they hate me. Anything weird, We call those things divergences. I'm aware you've been called that before."

Ben's head swam with this new knowledge. Even Jack mumbled something about confusion, but Ben could barely hear him over his own thoughts. "Am I a monster or... a 'divergence?" He asked aloud, to which Sickle chuckled.

"You are... different. Not in a bad way, but in an unnatural way. But don't worry, up here, there'll be no people to hurt. Other than Agents of the Society. But the Warden keeps a good eye on things." He bobbed his head toward another catwalk, higher up than the one Ben stood on, where a man who looked like he was straight from the steampunk era stood, watching.

Once the man realized Ben was looking at him, he reached up and adjusted his monocle with his robotic arm, which looked identical to all the other 'Agents' only his was gold as opposed to the shiny grayish black, and the man strode away and out of sight.

"Who the heck was that?" Ben swallowed hard. He did not like the way the man looked at him. It gave him the chills just remembering it.

"That was the Warden of the SSS. His codename was Cogsworth before. I think you can tell why."

"Because he likes steampunks?"

"He's fascinated with them. Everything about him, his clothes, weapons, even his nebulium arm is all based on that era, with a few modifications of course." Sickle immediately winced. "I should not have told you about that. He may not be the nicest guy but he gets the job done."

Ben nodded warily and looked around once more at the control room.

"Oh no!" Jack mocked. "This whole big scary prison is guarded by a guy with outdated weapons and dresses as if it's Halloween! How will we ever escape?"

Ben ignored his counterpart and tried to make sense of it all. Part of him was homesick, but after what he did in that forest... or what he did in the orphanage... he never belonged there anyway.

Sickle patted Ben's back, breaking up his emotional nightmare. "Don't look so queasy! You'll get to know this place well. Y'know, since you'll never leave. Have a nice stay!"

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