“There,” she said as she quietly used me. Etching away with her instrument of pain, a black pen. It was supposed to be pressure sensitive but it was I who was forced to feel it. I always knew in my heart that it would stop, eventually… She would either tire of me or I would fall into the deep darkness of sleep. The only question left is which would come first? Could I manage to hold out? Or would some kind soul save me from this hell, distracting her while I drift off? This is my life, I endure, iPad.

From Guest Contributor, Erik Menches

The instruction on the bottle was clear: Don’t fall asleep or you will die!

Eventually she succumbed to the sweet embrace of slumber. When she awoke the next morning, her schizophrenia medication had finally taken effect and her delusions were forgotten.

You hear the droning, a high-pitched whistle that keeps interrupting your sleep. It’s your anthropology professor, bombinating about some god awful theory of ethnography that can’t possibly be as interesting as the dream you’re having.

And then you understand that life was all an illusion, that the reality may be that you are spending your last living moments in the Arctic on a scientific expedition, and as you die of exposure, the 100-mile-per-hour winds whistle in your ear.

He woke up from what felt like an intensely deep sleep. His first instinct was to feel his wounds. They were still there, but something felt different. It may not have been a big change, the kind that people would notice, but he was definitely aware of it himself.

Ah, now he recognized what was different. He wasn’t dead anymore. Cool.

The Daily Theme from Figment for March 21, 2012

Literature is full of stories about people who wake to find themselves in extreme altered physical states–a man wakes up as a giant insect; a girl grows antlers in her sleep; a poor weaver discovers that his head has been replaced with that of a donkey. But what happens when a person wakes up only slightly transformed? Write a story about a person who wakes one morning with a small physical change–big enough to feel profound to him or her, but subtle enough that it’s not immediately apparent to others.