Awakening The Sleeper

Chapter Three: The Awakening Melody

        The morning light filtered weakly through the blinds, casting thin slats of sunlight onto the floor. The apartment was bathed in silence, except for the faint echo of a melody that still hummed in Vessel's ears. Sleep had come, but it had not brought rest. Their mind was ablaze, constantly replaying the song they had conquered in the dead of night.

        Vessel sat at the edge of their bed, staring at the guitar in the corner. It was as though the instrument itself had changed overnight, the once familiar wood now seemed to hold an unfamiliar weight, a presence. Sleep's song, the dark, slow pulse, lingered in the air between them and the instrument. And it was calling.

        For hours, Vessel had been trying to shake the feeling. They had scrolled through social media, mindlessly flicking through pictures and messages from friends. Nothing could drown out the rhythm. The phone buzzed again, interrupting their thoughts. Another message from Liam.

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Liam: Bro, where are you? We're at the studio waiting. You ghosting us or what?

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Vessel blinked, realizing they were late. They had lost track of time completely.

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Vessel: Sorry, heading over now.

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        The band. Rehearsal. It was their lifeline, the one thing that had always kept them grounded. But now, after the dream—after that presence had manifested in their apartment—nothing felt grounded anymore. It was like Vessel was drifting between worlds, neither fully awake nor fully asleep.

        Dragging themselves from the bed, they dressed quickly, pulling a hoodie over their head and grabbing their guitar. The streets outside were alive with the usual morning bustle, but it all felt distant, like Vessel was walking through a fog. Every step echoed with the sound of their mind, relentless and consuming.

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        The studio was tucked away in a forgotten corner of the city, a small, dimly lit space that the band had made their own over the years. The walls were covered in posters, faded set lists, and scribbled lyrics, memories of songs written and moments shared. Usually, walking into this space brought a sense of comfort. But today, it felt foreign—like they were stepping into someone else's life.

        The moment Vessel entered, the room fell silent. Liam, slouch on a beat-up couch with a bass in his hands, looked up, his brows furrowed. Next to him, their drummer, Alex, was tapping absentmindedly on his knee with a pair of sticks, the beat matching some unheard rhythm. Their eyes locked onto Vessel the moment they walked in.

        "You good, man?" Liam asked, sitting up straighter, "You've been MIA for days."

        Vessel forced a smile and dropped their guitar case next to the mic stand. "Yeah, just... busy. Stuff came up."

        "Stuff? Alex snorted. "What kinda stuff? You look like you haven't slept in days."

        Vessel shrugged, avoiding their gaze. It wasn't a lie—they hadn't slept well, not since the dream. Not since Sleep had whispered its purpose into their mind. But how could they explain that? How could they even begin to talk about the strange figure that now haunted their waking hours?