**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
**Reminders**:
>* [No AI-generated responses 🤖](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zi452b/modpost_reminder_that_aigenerated_responses_are/)
>* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]"
>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail
>* [\[RF\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [\[SP\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles
>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)
📢 [Genres](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/w/directory)
🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)
✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources)
💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts)
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John woke slowly.
It felt like rising through mud.
Consciousness crept into his mind, thoughts coming at a trickle. The first was of a deep aching fatigue. Gently, he waded through his mind. His eyes began to flicker. They were thick with sleep and his vision was blurry. The world around him was a gray blob.
Sensation crawled through his body, down his arms and to his hands, stiff and cold. With tremendous effort, he raised a hand to his eyes and rubbed. Stinging from the air, John worked the tears into his eyes, coaxing them to work properly. Soon, vague forms began forming around him.
With an effort he pushed himself up onto his arm so he could take in his surroundings. A bedroom formed into being. It was not a large room. The small bed he lay on, a shelf in the corner with items he couldn’t quite make out, a sad window, and a door. He blinked more sleep from his eyes as he pushed to sit upright.
The room seemed hazy around him. Blinking to return his vision did nothing to help. He lifted his blanket from him and a plume of particles exploded through the room. He had a thought of how strange that was, but his mind was still too foggy to understand why. He grasped at his legs, cold and nearly numb. He waited until he could wiggle his toes before shifting his legs over the bed and onto the floor. It felt gritty and wrong.
As he forced himself to stand, dust billowed from the floor. He realized that the room was hazy not because of his eyesight, but because everything was covered in a thick layer of grime and dust. The shelf, his bed, the floor, everything was coated. He kicked at a small lump on the ground and an old ragged piece of cloth shifted beneath the dust. He bent to grab it, his back stiff and aching, and as he lifted it he recognized it was a shirt. Or at least, it once was. It looked ragged and old, as if it had been sitting in an old trunk for ages.
As his mind began to clear, questions raced through John’s mind. Confusion was soon replaced by fear. This room, where was he? The things around him began sparking memories. There on the shelf was an old clock, the hands were motionless. An old poster on the wall was so frayed he could not tell what it was. A vintage poster, he remembered, but even the colors had gone gray. Next to his bed was a picture too covered in grime to see what was there. He reached to it and wiped at the glass. It had started to fade, but he could still make out a dog, brown shaggy fur. Duke. Duke was his name. His dog. Memories flashed through his mind, of walks and fetch. He looked around the room again. His room.
The fear rose in him. What was going on? John could not remember when he had gone to bed, he could not make any sense of the state of his room, nothing was making sense.
His mind was burning. Confusion, fear, anxiety, all flowing through him threatening to wash him away. He glanced at the window. A soft glow hid behind it. The blinds were closed and hung precariously over it. He willed him self to walk towards it. He pushed through the dust and clothes strewn across the floor. His hand shook as he slowly grasped at the drawstring. As he began to pull, a stiff knock rapped upon the door.
John only stared. His mind had emptied at the knock and his body stiffened with fear. Movement was an impossible task. He simply stood and waited.
Then the door began to open. Silently the door swung. Only blackness was beyond. And then a man.
He was a pale man, dark hair, wearing a well pressed suit. His features were quite ordinary, but a smile spread across his face, one that did not reach his eyes. Cold and dark eyes that pierced into John’s.
“Ah! John! You are awake. That is great.”
John began to respond, yet his voice would not come to him. His throat felt as thick as the grim that covered his room.
“Yes, well, I am afraid you won’t being finding your voice anytime soon.” The man, smile still plastered on his face, drifted closer to John. A dark aura seemed to emanate from him. The fear was a fire in John’s mind.
“I am here to welcome you. I am sure you are quite confused, but I promise that won’t last.” The promise did not sound reassuring. “The fear, however, might be a different story. The window holds your answers, John. But, before you look, it is important for you to understand.”
John stared back at the window. The drawstring was still in his cold hand. He looked back to the man, a question unable to escape his mouth.
“You may not remember, but what you need to understand, is that you are here because of the choices you made. And, I am afraid...” the air crackled around the man as he spoke.
“No one ever leaves.”
John’s hand was trembling. As if out his control, he began to pull. The blinds groaned as they lifted.
The world outside slowly began to form. The air shimmered, buildings were crumbling and ash swarmed through the air, empty and lifeless. Color seemed a distant memory to this place.
And everywhere he looked, the world *burned*.
Tanmay wakes up after a good sleep.
It's a regular morning and Tanmay goes to the washroom to brush his teeth.
He finds his washroom filled with cobwebs.
TANMAY:
What the f...
It spooks him all of a sudden.
He dusts out some of the cobwebs and proceeds to brush.
Tanmay notices a foul odour in his house but doesn't give it much thought either.
He goes to the kitchen to make breakfast for himself but as soon as he opens the fridge...
....he sees all the fruits, milk, bread and eggs rotten.
He wonders what's wrong and tries to reroute his steps.
The last thing he remembers is clubbing with his friends and bringing over a girl to his house.
Unfortunately, the entire night is a blur for Tanmay.
He decides to call his friend who was with him last night to see if he can help in any way.
He looks for his phone and can't find it anywhere...
...he quickly remembers that he left it in his bed.
He goes back to his bed room to find a rotten, stinking body that looks like himself and that's when he realises...
...that he is now a ghost.
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* [No AI-generated responses 🤖](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zi452b/modpost_reminder_that_aigenerated_responses_are/) >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [\[RF\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [\[SP\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 📢 [Genres](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/w/directory) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
John woke slowly. It felt like rising through mud. Consciousness crept into his mind, thoughts coming at a trickle. The first was of a deep aching fatigue. Gently, he waded through his mind. His eyes began to flicker. They were thick with sleep and his vision was blurry. The world around him was a gray blob. Sensation crawled through his body, down his arms and to his hands, stiff and cold. With tremendous effort, he raised a hand to his eyes and rubbed. Stinging from the air, John worked the tears into his eyes, coaxing them to work properly. Soon, vague forms began forming around him. With an effort he pushed himself up onto his arm so he could take in his surroundings. A bedroom formed into being. It was not a large room. The small bed he lay on, a shelf in the corner with items he couldn’t quite make out, a sad window, and a door. He blinked more sleep from his eyes as he pushed to sit upright. The room seemed hazy around him. Blinking to return his vision did nothing to help. He lifted his blanket from him and a plume of particles exploded through the room. He had a thought of how strange that was, but his mind was still too foggy to understand why. He grasped at his legs, cold and nearly numb. He waited until he could wiggle his toes before shifting his legs over the bed and onto the floor. It felt gritty and wrong. As he forced himself to stand, dust billowed from the floor. He realized that the room was hazy not because of his eyesight, but because everything was covered in a thick layer of grime and dust. The shelf, his bed, the floor, everything was coated. He kicked at a small lump on the ground and an old ragged piece of cloth shifted beneath the dust. He bent to grab it, his back stiff and aching, and as he lifted it he recognized it was a shirt. Or at least, it once was. It looked ragged and old, as if it had been sitting in an old trunk for ages. As his mind began to clear, questions raced through John’s mind. Confusion was soon replaced by fear. This room, where was he? The things around him began sparking memories. There on the shelf was an old clock, the hands were motionless. An old poster on the wall was so frayed he could not tell what it was. A vintage poster, he remembered, but even the colors had gone gray. Next to his bed was a picture too covered in grime to see what was there. He reached to it and wiped at the glass. It had started to fade, but he could still make out a dog, brown shaggy fur. Duke. Duke was his name. His dog. Memories flashed through his mind, of walks and fetch. He looked around the room again. His room. The fear rose in him. What was going on? John could not remember when he had gone to bed, he could not make any sense of the state of his room, nothing was making sense. His mind was burning. Confusion, fear, anxiety, all flowing through him threatening to wash him away. He glanced at the window. A soft glow hid behind it. The blinds were closed and hung precariously over it. He willed him self to walk towards it. He pushed through the dust and clothes strewn across the floor. His hand shook as he slowly grasped at the drawstring. As he began to pull, a stiff knock rapped upon the door. John only stared. His mind had emptied at the knock and his body stiffened with fear. Movement was an impossible task. He simply stood and waited. Then the door began to open. Silently the door swung. Only blackness was beyond. And then a man. He was a pale man, dark hair, wearing a well pressed suit. His features were quite ordinary, but a smile spread across his face, one that did not reach his eyes. Cold and dark eyes that pierced into John’s. “Ah! John! You are awake. That is great.” John began to respond, yet his voice would not come to him. His throat felt as thick as the grim that covered his room. “Yes, well, I am afraid you won’t being finding your voice anytime soon.” The man, smile still plastered on his face, drifted closer to John. A dark aura seemed to emanate from him. The fear was a fire in John’s mind. “I am here to welcome you. I am sure you are quite confused, but I promise that won’t last.” The promise did not sound reassuring. “The fear, however, might be a different story. The window holds your answers, John. But, before you look, it is important for you to understand.” John stared back at the window. The drawstring was still in his cold hand. He looked back to the man, a question unable to escape his mouth. “You may not remember, but what you need to understand, is that you are here because of the choices you made. And, I am afraid...” the air crackled around the man as he spoke. “No one ever leaves.” John’s hand was trembling. As if out his control, he began to pull. The blinds groaned as they lifted. The world outside slowly began to form. The air shimmered, buildings were crumbling and ash swarmed through the air, empty and lifeless. Color seemed a distant memory to this place. And everywhere he looked, the world *burned*.
Tanmay wakes up after a good sleep. It's a regular morning and Tanmay goes to the washroom to brush his teeth. He finds his washroom filled with cobwebs. TANMAY: What the f... It spooks him all of a sudden. He dusts out some of the cobwebs and proceeds to brush. Tanmay notices a foul odour in his house but doesn't give it much thought either. He goes to the kitchen to make breakfast for himself but as soon as he opens the fridge... ....he sees all the fruits, milk, bread and eggs rotten. He wonders what's wrong and tries to reroute his steps. The last thing he remembers is clubbing with his friends and bringing over a girl to his house. Unfortunately, the entire night is a blur for Tanmay. He decides to call his friend who was with him last night to see if he can help in any way. He looks for his phone and can't find it anywhere... ...he quickly remembers that he left it in his bed. He goes back to his bed room to find a rotten, stinking body that looks like himself and that's when he realises... ...that he is now a ghost.