The Sleep Walker

Danny King

Richard was cold and he didn't know why. His bare skin was pockmarked with goose bumps and his ears numb with chill. On looking around the room he realised the reason for his discomfort; his blankets had floated up off his bed and were now stuck to the ceiling.

He climbed out of bed to pull them back down but they were too high. He stood on the mattress but still they were out of his reach. He stacked chairs on tables on boxes on crates, but still his blankets were beyond his grasp.

It was then that Richard noticed all his windows were open, allowing in the cold night air. A chill wind began to blow through the gaping openings and envelope Richard with icy fingers.

He was cold. So cold.

Why hadn't he noticed his windows were open when he went to bed? He went to close them, but couldn't. They too were beyond his reach. In fact they were right the way across the room, across the street, across the town, and every step he took towards them just drove them further and further away. His legs felt like lead as he struggled headfirst into what felt like a force ten gale, desperately reaching for the latches.

But it was no use. So cold. So very cold.

He lifted his eyes and all but broke down with despair when he saw, far far away, almost beyond the distant horizon, his windows rattling and crashing about loose in the storm. He managed only one or two more hard-fought steps towards them before finally they slipped out of sight.

It was bitter. He'd never known anything like it. His bones ached and his skin burned with the cold.

He had to get those blankets. He had no choice now. He looked around and saw that the wind had dislodged them from the ceiling and they were now caught in the branches of a tree. They whipped about in the squall and threatened to blow away at any second, but for the moment they were caught.

Again he tried to reach them, but they were still just beyond his grasp. What's more, the wind was now plucking them from the tree, twig by twig, and threatening to deprive Richard of his last hope of warmth. He couldn't let that happen. He'd die from the cold if it did. He had to get those blankets.

Coiling himself up like a jack-in-the-box, he leapt skyward in one last attempt to snatch his bedclothes from the tree - but once again, he missed.When he landed, it wasn't on the thick shag pile carpet his feet had left a second earlier, but on concrete. His knees buckled underneath his weight and Richard crumpled to the ground in a heap. His hands, arms, knees and legs scuffed on the cold, hard pavement and he winced with both pain and shock.

This, however, paled into consideration next to the shock he got when reality flooded back to his senses and he suddenly saw where he was.