The Sleepless One

The treatment was supposed to optimize sleep cycles. Instead, it erased the need for sleep altogether. Forever.

Evelyn had gone thirty-two days without rest. Her body should have failed. Her mind should have shattered. But she was awake. Too awake. Awake enough to see them.

At first, they were shadows in the corners of her vision. Lurking. Stalking. But now, they were everywhere. In the mirror, in the doorway, behind the furniture. Inside the walls. Their pale, stretched faces twisted into impossible grins, their hollow sockets locked onto her.

And they were getting closer.

The last time she tried to sleep—just for a moment—one of them reached inside her leg. She felt it root inside her muscle, its fingers splitting apart beneath her skin, slithering through veins. The pain was unimaginable. It didn’t just touch her. It tried to make room for itself.

She clawed at her calf, screaming as she yanked something wet and moving from the wound. The thing on her bed laughed, its mouth peeling wider until its jaw hung in ribbons.

"You’re almost ready," it crooned.

Ready for what?

She stumbled to the bathroom, slamming the door shut, gasping. The light flickered. Her reflection stared back.

Something was wrong.

Her skin had turned the same pale, thin texture as theirs. Her lips had split at the corners. Blood welled in the cracks. Her eyes—no longer fully hers—had started sinking back, the pupils too large, too deep.

The whispers crawled under her skull. Don’t fight it.

She shook her head. This wasn’t real. She was still Evelyn.

Then her fingers twitched on their own.

She lifted her hand to her face. Her nails had fallen off. In their place, something else had started growing—something longer, blackened, curling outward like bone hooks.

A sharp crack echoed from inside her jaw. Her cheekbones shifted. Stretched.

She wasn't becoming one of them.

She had always been one of them.

She just had to stay awake long enough to remember.

The door creaked open. She turned, her mouth widening into a twisted, impossible grin. The others stood there, waiting.

They smiled back.

Her skin split at the edges.

Her new family welcomed her home.

————

Author’s Note

Sleep is something we take for granted—an escape, a necessity, a boundary between waking life and the unknown. But what if that boundary was never meant to be broken? The Sleepless One explores the horror of perception, the terrifying idea that some things only reveal themselves when we are awake long enough to notice them.

I wanted to create something that lingers in your mind, something that makes you question the silence of the night and the shadows in the corners of your vision. The true fear isn’t just in the creatures lurking beyond our understanding—it’s in the realization that they may have been watching all along, waiting for the right moment to step forward.

This story is a descent into the grotesque, a transformation of body and mind, and ultimately, a question of identity. If you stayed awake long enough, would you recognize what you’ve always been?

Thank you for stepping into this nightmare with me. Sleep well—if you can.

— Jason Benskin