[27 / 6 / 13]
You ascend an endless staircase, twirling the knife that was once lodged in your back, the only relief from the monotony of climbing the stark white steps.
Attempting to recall how it ended up there for answers proved fruitless. Napping in your club room during lunch, you've awoken in what can only be described as a barren version of school. The walls and floor were blank white, and furnishings were reduced to their simplest shapes, colored in black to contrast with their unnatural surroundings. Leaving was pointless, as emptiness stretched beyond what your eyes could see but you attempted to do so anyways. Outside, you saw the building stretch up and onwards towards some point you failed to ascertain. Without anything else in mind, you found a staircase, leading you to now.
Did you die? It certainly didn't seem to stick. This was hardly any idea of the afterlife that you knew of, and you'd think the dead don't get tired from walking up all these stairs. Now, the knife in back paints a rather obvious picture as to how you 'died' but who could've done it? The suspect eludes you. Unless you were a terrible judge of character, nobody you knew would be murderous, and besides, you weren't awake then. The knife is the only piece of evidence that you have. A neat little thing really, one of those butterfly knives you see people do tricks with. Nothing identifying can be found upon it with your eyes alone, save for the fact it was once stained with your blood. Other than the clothes you're wearing, nothing else was on your person, not even the contents of your pockets.
The top. Finally. A single door awaits you here as the prize of arriving. Sitting atop the final step to recover, you then finally reach for the exit.
It’s a street somewhere around where you live. You don’t remember going through the door exactly. A blink later and here you are. It’s normal at least. Quickly, you pocket the knife so as to not attract the wrong kind of attention. Behind you is a door, but it leads to a cafe instead of wherever it was you came.
“Man, this is terrible.”
>Go back to school. Scene of the crime.
>Go home. That sounds nice.
>Go inside this cafe. There had to be some reason you appeared here.
Attempting to recall how it ended up there for answers proved fruitless. Napping in your club room during lunch, you've awoken in what can only be described as a barren version of school. The walls and floor were blank white, and furnishings were reduced to their simplest shapes, colored in black to contrast with their unnatural surroundings. Leaving was pointless, as emptiness stretched beyond what your eyes could see but you attempted to do so anyways. Outside, you saw the building stretch up and onwards towards some point you failed to ascertain. Without anything else in mind, you found a staircase, leading you to now.
Did you die? It certainly didn't seem to stick. This was hardly any idea of the afterlife that you knew of, and you'd think the dead don't get tired from walking up all these stairs. Now, the knife in back paints a rather obvious picture as to how you 'died' but who could've done it? The suspect eludes you. Unless you were a terrible judge of character, nobody you knew would be murderous, and besides, you weren't awake then. The knife is the only piece of evidence that you have. A neat little thing really, one of those butterfly knives you see people do tricks with. Nothing identifying can be found upon it with your eyes alone, save for the fact it was once stained with your blood. Other than the clothes you're wearing, nothing else was on your person, not even the contents of your pockets.
The top. Finally. A single door awaits you here as the prize of arriving. Sitting atop the final step to recover, you then finally reach for the exit.
It’s a street somewhere around where you live. You don’t remember going through the door exactly. A blink later and here you are. It’s normal at least. Quickly, you pocket the knife so as to not attract the wrong kind of attention. Behind you is a door, but it leads to a cafe instead of wherever it was you came.
“Man, this is terrible.”
>Go back to school. Scene of the crime.
>Go home. That sounds nice.
>Go inside this cafe. There had to be some reason you appeared here.
