The Russian Sleep Experiment Novels & Stories

I ask, curious. "Nothing special. Nitrous oxide. And when she fell asleep, I sprayed a bit more directly on her face. Still, I think she slipped into a deep sleep just from exhaustion," Roman replies. "She looks sad, even while she sleeps," Sergei murmurs, more serious now. "She fell asleep crying," Roman answers flatly. Silence falls between us. We watch her. So still. Her lashes still damp, her face softened by sleep. Every shape, every curve, every breath—burned into our minds.

When he saw me awake He asks me “Oh you are awake. How are you feeling now?” Alex says “I’m feeling better now. How long was I asleep?” I replied. “Three hours but don’t worry it take eleven hours from America to Russia.” Alex replied. I was asleep for three hours?! But I feel like I only sleep for a little. “Do you want to drink something? Or eat? Sister Alya says. “Oh no I’m not hungry. Please continue your work.” I replied. After then they start their work again while I was reading some magazine.

It did something to the air in the room that she noted and chose to ignore. He looked up. "You're awake," he said. "Couldn't sleep." She stepped inside. "You're awake too." "I rarely sleep." "How rarely?" "Three hours. Sometimes four." "That's not—" "I've functioned on three hours for approximately two hundred years." He looked at her. "I think the experiment is concluded."

Rosa woke very early before dawn, and her mind was restless. She had dreamt that Nikolai was seeing someone else behind her back, and just the thought made her blood boil. So when the clock struck five, she slipped her legs off the bed, the tiles very cold on her bare feet. Her hospital gown hung loosely on her slender body.

‘I mean, they’ve been in a coma-like state for a while now, that means they don’t need quite so much food and water. ‘Like being in hibernation, you mean?’ offered Strauss. ‘Yeah. But the human body still needs sustenance to survive. And he looks pretty healthy to me.’ Bridget caught herself. ‘Apart from the obvious, of course.’ Strauss cocked his head. ‘It’s entirely possible. I guess we’ll see when I take a closer look at these samples, won’t we?’ What was concerning him more than that was Bridget’s comment from earlier. If these Sleepers, for want of a better word, were in cocoons, what would happen when the secretion had finished whatever it was doing to them? Would they really be replac

It should be morning already in Russia. Stalin picks up, quickly. “Dima, what’s good?” He asks in Russian. With the way he sounds; sleepy and mild, I know he’s just waking up. “I need you to research something for me.” I gush, not giving him time to ask questions, I continue. “Research about this man…” I parrot the name my prisoner just gave me. ** My skin is blazing, fire licking my veins from the inside, coating my tanned skin with beads of sweat which all but drops on the hardwood floor as I incessantly do push-ups. Akim’s voice is counting the number of times I’ve done the push-up.

After going over the second half of my marvellous plan, all men agreed my approach would not only be the most successful but also, swift enough so the W.M.O will never be able to catch wind of it beforehand. Alban allowed Russell to use one of the packs labs where he was able to brew The Deadly Sleeping Drought in under an hour, the clear liquid soon placed in a thin glass test tube and in a protective bag so it wouldn’t spill.

I don't leave the building unless I decide to grab lunch off-campus. After the fifth night, I took pity on Roman and told him he would be more comfortable sleeping in the guest bedroom. He initially chafed at the offer but eventually caved. Instead of a nightmare waking me up that first night, I barely slept knowing he was twenty feet down the hall from me. The last two nights have been better. Uneventful. The nightmares have abated. I hope the situation with the Russians will be resolved soon, so both of us can get back to our lives and away from each other. I'm not sure how much longer I can go on with Roman underfoot.

Russia may have birthed some of the most brutal supernatural hunters I have ever come across, but they also birthed some of the best vodka I have ever tasted. The trip across the water was slow and incredibly boring. The water was calm, thankfully. But the boat was fucking slow. I was only able to push it up to nine knots before I thought it was going to fall apart. Which meant I was in for a long night. I took a nap, I skimmed through a book I found, I tinkered with the pipes that the old man was working on, and I downed what was left in the whiskey bottle. When I laid back down on the cot I found in the hull, I was pretty well tipsy. The buzz wouldn’t last long, but long enough to knock me

he says, nodding I continue the plan, taking notes of everything they said to me. "The next step is to inject her with enough sedative to make her docile enough for the next step," it's not the easiest part, but it has to be done. "Sedate her? Why would you do that, I thought the treatment is supposed to help her," Peter says angrily, I was losing him and losing my permission to continue his experiment. "Peter, to get to the subconscious of the girl we need her to trust us, we'll need to heal any kind of injuries she had before coming to us, that could only be done if she's sedated for the first week or so," I explained to him again.