My name is Sven M. Claud and this is my story, listen well as you may not believe it, but it does not matter to me just listen well. Let us begin... The cold silence was the only sense of calmness that I had in my room. After being denied and cast away in collage, I slammed the door, hoping never to be let out again.  I simply sat there, hoping that in some other life, I would finally be accepted in their world and social structure. The darkness kind of, how should I say, ‘creeped towards me,’ advancing and getting thicker as I grew more anxious of the shadows dancing around me.

My now open eyes snapped shut as I took in a cold breeze flowing through my slightly cracked open window. I flicked on a dim lamp on my bed-side table, flinching as it emanated a slight glow in one corner of the room, comforting me slightly, but not by much. The breeze got stronger coming out of my window, chilling my nearly bare skin, as I was only wearing a short sleeve tee shirt, and it was in the mid-winter season. That’s when I remembered that the window was not open before.

“When had it opened?” I questioned to myself.

“This could be bad,” I thought.

“Too many crimes around this area.” I sprung up from my bed, at this time at night, I had to strain every muscle in my body to perform such an act. I tread lightly to my room door and twisted.

“Locked?!” I exclaimed in a panicked state. That’s when the light in my bed-side lamp popped. It was the strangest thing, it wasn't old, it wasn't out of power, it wasn't damaged, it just… popped. Isolating me in the thick, inky darkness. It seemed that the only way out was the… window. I turned to face the accursed thing, but when I did, the drapes had completely cloaked the open window, obscuring my vision of the outside world. I walked slowly over to the window and put my hand over the drapes. They felt strangely cold… Something was definitely not right here. This was in no way good for my mental health.

I called out, “Mother?!”

I am greeted with a low pitch gurgle, witch sounded like it was attempting to say, ”Th-there is n-no goi-going ba…”

The voice silenced itself as silence fell over me yet again. Fear flew out of my body and anger took its place.

“Stop this right now!” I screeched.

I forcefully ripped the drapes off of the window, to reveal, not a window, but a small trap-door like hatch. I pried it open and threw myself in. Gravity shifted as I realized, instead of just jumping through, I was falling, as if I had jumped from a hole in the floor. I fell through a surreal looking world, as multiple celestial bodies of space fell past me, in a void of nothingness, I landed in a dark, musty, wooden room full of glass vases. In a fit of unbridled rage and helplessness, I began to smash them, different shades of paint flying out and splashing against my already goose bump ridden skin.

I then began to notice how hot and dense the room was. I was sweating. Warm, sickly, salty sweat. My face bright red with fury, I smashed the last vase in the room. There was a clicking sound. I was panting, so many emotions that I am feeling, but I choose anger as of now. Pure unbridled rage. “I only wanted to be accepted! Not ignored, I don’t need this torment right now!” I cried. I began to feel weak, my stomach churned as I realized that there might be someone else I could ask for advice, I just needed to ask them and it could be my ticket out. I noticed that the clicking sound may have been a door unlocking. I turned my head to face a door at the end of the dark room.

I hurriedly sprinted to the door attempting to open it. Success, the door opened and I creeped inside the room ahead. There was not an unyielding sense of heat here, and I sensed my body cool down and stop producing so much sweat. I looked forward and spotted a large head, although horribly disfigured, it clearly resembled a human, or at least what was left of one after a full on nuclear attack. It jutted out of a hole in the ground of this long, carpeted, hallway like room.

It spoke to me, “You deny your eternal purgatory, human?”  

“What are you talking about? I just want to go home…” I replied.

“You are stuck here, that I cannot change,” it boomed throughout the hall.

“Please, I will be in debt to you all of eternity!” I offered.

“I do not accept negotiation mortal,” it scoffed.

“I offer you my soul!” I exclaimed.

“A large offer, for only but a shell of a man,” it mocked.

“B-but, that gives you my whole life at your free will!” I said.

“If I were to accept I would simply doom you to your cruel reality,” it spoke.

“But, wait!” I exclaimed as the head ventured down the gap in the floorboards. I approached the crater, only to find it had vanished out of existence. Another click echoed from a door on the left wall. I ventured through. This room was cold, multiplying the number of goose bumps on by skin. It didn’t help what greeted me in the small, dark, dusty concrete room, a bloody floor by my parents and sister, still barely alive, hanging by nooses on the ceiling. I sat down in the corner of the room as the door locked behind me, my family gurgling inaudible tones as they spoke my name angrily. Staring at me with hatred burning in their cold, glassed over eyes, their skin pale and covered in blood. I sobbed.

“I'm sorry!” I called.

Only to be greeted with louder and more vicious gurgling.


“I didn't want this!”

“No!” I yelled, each time the gurgling got more angry and loud.

Tears and cold, sickly, runny, cold, sweat ran down my forehead and cheeks. I opened my now crusty and soggy eyes to spot a spotlight shining down on a table. “W-was this h-here before?” I sniffled. I looked down, noticing I must have unconsciously vomited a few times in my desperate sniveling. I got up, my knees and stiff joints popping and cracking as if I had not moved in ages. I ached my way over to the lighted table. MY bed-side table. It had a knife on it, accompanied by a note saying ‘just embrace who you are.’ In my depression I drove the knife into my stiff wrist. Multicolored paint spewed out all over the floor. I screamed in pain. My head was getting fuzzy as my vision doubled. Before I blacked out I heard a click, from the corner of the room. When I awoke I was in my room. Back to normal. I looked around suspiciously.

“What's the catch this time,” I mocked under my unmotivated breath.

“Embrace who you are,” I heard a soft, sweet voice say from behind me. I whipped my head around to face a little girl, her face completely obscured by her long, untamed hair, she wore a frilly dress.

“Follow me," she beckoned, and she jumped out of what was previously a window. I hastily followed behind, jumping through, past the celestial bodies. When I landed I was alone. In a cemetery to be exact. A cold, snowy cemetery. I looked up, not at Earth’s sky, but at the whimsical void of celestial bodies, trailing upwards toward a large, foggy, trap-door in the sky. I looked down at the grave directly in front of me. It was marked; “Sven M. Claud. died November the Twenty-seventh, Two Thousand and Thirteen.”

It all made sense now. A voice called from the sky, “You knew of your fate, but did not want to accept it. Welcome home, and goodbye.” The voice was that of my mother. “I suppose I did know… all along,” I chuckled, “I was just… Grieving for you guys. Dying scared me. I'm sorry. But I accept now.”

The Five Stages of Grieving

1) Denial and isolation: I slammed the door, hoping never to be let out again.

2) Anger: In a fit of unbridled rage and helplessness, I began to smash them, different shades of paint flying out and splashing against my already goose bump ridden skin. 

3) Bargaining: “I offer you my soul!” I exclaimed.

4) Depression: In my depression I drove the knife into my stiff wrist. 

5) Acceptance: “I was just… Grieving for you guys. Dying scared me. I'm sorry. But I accept now.”