Challenge #04275-K257: A Little Death

There is a terrible condition some humans are born with. Slowly, over time, they lose the ability to sleep. And when their body does pass out, they do not remain that way long, and there are no dreams. A human that remains awake for more than 11 days straight, almost always dies. Desperately they seek someone, anyone, for help. Magic, or medicine, they didn't care. They didn't have long left to live. -- Anon Guest

[AN: My research shows that people don't typically last longer than three days. Also is this a CritRole reference? ]

Some maladies burn hot, and the case is either kill or cure before one end or another is reached. Some burn so slow that the victim isn't aware they're sick for decades. Somewhere in the middle is the disease they call Insomnus.

It smoulders, and then it incinerates. It smoulders so long that none have yet been able to tell how it's contracted. The patient generally has low energy, but never low enough to cause concern. Until, without warning, they begin to have a succession of terrible nights and exhausted days.

Shortly after that, they stop dreaming.

The rough nights get rougher. Sleep becomes increasingly difficult to achieve, and then hold. Until sleep no longer comes.

By then... there's nothing very many can do to help.

It's a fast pyre after that, relatively speaking. Sleep, the essential element for intelligence, becomes impossible. The patient goes through all the stages of sleep deprivation until they pass out, but they don't sleep longer than an hour.

That's the first sign to many that the patient is in danger. After all, they only have eleven days left before the disease takes them. Tirena was on her fifth day, and had spent all of them looking for a cure. Or at the very least, a remedy.

She was desperate enough to try anything. Including consulting the weirdo of the wilderness. One hour's sleep in five days was not enough. She only had six more days left, and did not want to die of Insomnus. Thus, Tirena disobeyed every caution told to avoid hir.

Desperate times, after all.

She found the weirdo across the stream, down in the little vale with the stones that had faces on. Picking mushrooms.

"Y' must be needy," ze said. "What's th' ache as got you lookin' for me?"

It took her a moment to understand those words... and a moment more to manage, "Insomnus. I don' wanna die."

"Th' lack o' sleep as marches ye t' death. Ain't nowt known t' end it but death."

"I don't want to die," pleaded Tirena.

"Never said y' had to stay dead," said the weirdo.

Was she that desperate? "I don't want to be undead either."

The weirdo smiled hir crooked smile, and patted Tirena on the arm with hir gnarled and twisted hand. "Don't fret. We'll make the world think you're dead. Just for a little bit."

There was mushroom soup, and a buttery roll laden with herbs. Then the weirdo made her lie down as ze marked her body with ash and grave soil. What incantation was used, Tirena could not recall, as she slept...

Well...

...like the dead.

Tirena woke, covered in a shroud, at the village temple. Fully refreshed and restored. Hallowed ground didn't hurt her, nor did holy water. The sunlight was as warm and welcome as ever. It caused quite a stir when she walked into town with no further harm to her.

They wouldn't let her back into the forest on her own, but Tirena made sure to leave a big cake and a knitted blanket in a place where the weirdo could find it. Gratitude for something so clearly miraculous never went amiss.

[Photo by Amy Humphries on Unsplash]

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