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A Short Story by James D. Pratt

Copyright 2010 James D. Pratt

Smashwords Edition

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Scotty Griffin had been a sleepwalker all his life. He never remembered any of his somnambulistic escapades, some of which according to his friends were quite comical. Scotty laughed at the stories but only on the outside. Deep down, he felt something was wrong. Some nights as he lay in bed fighting the call of slumber-land he recalled an old nursery rhyme his grandmother taught him:

Shadows sleep and do not creep beneath the light of day,

But when the light gives way to night the shadows come out to play

Scotty had come up with a theory by the time he was twelve. Sleepwalking, Scotty hypothesized, is one’s own shadow assuming control of the body while the mind sleeps. It isn’t an easy feat. Most shadows were weak, ineffectual things that can only fuss and fume at their own impotence. But a few are strong enough to influence the subconscious minds of the clumsy meat-things to which they are forever tethered.

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