The Sleepwalker

Once upon a time on a quiet evening at his Grandma Mary's home, John, a lively and adventurous 7-year-old boy, was carried into an unexpected journey. The tranquility of the night was shattered as he was woken abruptly by urgent thuds and crashes causing goosebumps to multiply on his tender limbs. He rushed downstairs, his heart pounding violently in his chest like a caged bird trying to escape. The sight that greeted him was one of utter chaos. Silhouettes of unknown figures tore through the antique furniture, leaving a trail of shattered glass like the aftermath of a vicious storm. Terrified, John stumbled back up to Grandma Mary’s room. With great difficulty, he mumbled, "Grandma, scary monsters in the house." The elderly woman stirred, pulling the covers closer to shield her from the grimy tendrils of groguery. She reassured him, murmuring sleepily, "Dear, you're dreaming. Go back to sleep sweetie. Let grandma rest, please," before rolling back over. John grabbed and shook his grandma, the action sending an unexpected jolt through his small body that culminated in a burst of blinding light, making his vision go black. He found himself listening to his voice cry out, unlike it ever sounded before, "Grandma, please, I'm scared!" The terror that gripped him intensified because he hadn't uttered those words. Opening his eyes, John began to notice strange changes occurring in his physical appearance, like the unruly curly gray hair on his head. Somehow, he managed to sit up, and after a few moments of struggle, stand up. Gawking down, he realized he was wearing his grandma's worn-out robe. He hobbled to the mirror and instead of his face, he saw the wrinkly reflection of his grandma staring back at him. In disbelief, "Grandma? Why am I grandma? I don't wanna be grandma! Monsters downstairs," he stammered, hearing his words in an older, deeper, worn-out tone. His new body felt foreign, and inspection of his hands revealed wrinkly, veined skin. The realization of his aged state filled him with disgust. Suddenly, the noises from downstairs came back into focus obviously from the intruders downstairs making his heart beat in a sporadic rhythm. It was one thing to wake up in a different body but realizing he was his grandma and had no clue what to do added a new level of terror. As he tried to find his balance, he tripped over his grandma’s slippers, slipping them onto his own feet. Forcing them off seemed impossible as a wave of Mary's memories washed over, forcing his down and changing his thoughts, "I'm thinking like grandma now? I'm gonna miss mommy so much! I don't wanna be grandma! I didn't do anything wrong!" he cried, tears running down his aged cheeks. Memories of Mary's long life replaced his own significantly smaller bank of 7 years, his mindset aging decades within the blink of an eye. After a few minutes, John, now believing completely that he was Mary, pondered quietly. "What in the world am I doing awake at this ungodly hour?" Mary stared around her room, squinting at her slippers. "Come on, Mary, don't lose your marbles," she chided herself, the sounds from downstairs forgotten. "Must be John downstairs getting some water. Oh well, I suppose he isn't doing any harm; after all, he is a growing young man." Hesitant, she shuffled her way back to her bed, clumsily crawling in. "Now, Mary, if you could just get back into bed without needing a cotton-picking hip replacement you're in the clear." With that, she fell into a deep sleep, her mind oblivious to the impending danger downstairs, and oblivious to the fact that just a few minutes prior, she was a 7-year-old boy named John.