When I opened my eyes, I saw nothing.
Not darkness like the absence of light. No. This was a void, a suffocating, bottomless abyss that clawed at the edges of my sanity. It was so complete, so absolute, I genuinely thought I had gone blind.
—"Where… the hell am I?"
There was warmth in the air — oppressive, stifling warmth — and silence so profound it felt alive as if the universe itself were holding its breath. Not peace. Dread. The kind that coils in your gut before a scream breaks loose. I didn't know if I was falling or floating, breathing or suffocating. Time didn't exist here. Pain didn't. Neither did hope.
Only absence. Only me.
And even that… felt questionable.
I didn't remember how I got here. I didn't remember me. The only thing that lingered were fragments — not memories, but feelings. Grief. Rage. Sorrow. Resignation. And finally... a cold, quiet relief. As if my death — however it happened — had been a mercy.
Was this it? Was this death?
It must've been months. Or days. Or centuries. Time unraveled in this hell of nothingness. I had once expected a god, or an angel or some twisted bureaucracy to greet me — maybe to weigh my sins, maybe to cast judgment. I wasn't religious, not in the churchy kind of way. Their God always seemed too convenient, too fragile. A being either all-good or all-powerful — but never both.
Still, I believed in something.
But this... this place stripped me of that, too.
No heaven. No hell.
Just... me.
Alone.
As always.
The idea that I had been condemned here — not judged, just discarded — started to sink its claws into my psyche. And wasn't that fitting? I'd been abandoned my whole life. Why should death be any different?
Time passed — or maybe it didn't — and the weight of it all began to erode me.
Madness crept in slowly, like rot in old wood. First, I spoke aloud just to hear something, anything.
Then I started answering myself.
—"You deserve this."
—"Why was I even born? Just to suffer in life… and now in death?"
—"What did I do? Why punish me?"
—"I helped people. I tried. Even when it cost me. Was that my sin?"
—"All I ever wanted was to be loved. Was that too much to ask?"
—"WHY ME?! WHY NOT THEM?! WHY NOT EVERYONE ELSE?!"
Sometimes, the void showed me glimpses of my life. A cruel montage of everything I had hoped to forget. Smiles that meant nothing. "Friends" who fed on me until I was hollow. Empty days. Sleepless nights. BOREDOM like no other, not finding passion or love in single thing. Loneliness that masquerades as company. The only warmth I had ever truly known — my family — gone in a flash, in a scream, in a tragedy that should have taken me, too.
—"I should've died with them…"
Rage. Grief. Despair. Again. And again. AND AGAIN. An endless cycle of screaming into a black mirror that never answered back.
Then…
A sound.
So faint, it might've been imagined. But in this place — where even silence was deafening — it roared like thunder. Laughter. Distant. Mocking. Wrong. Like it didn't belong here.
And then... the void moved.
Reality rippled. Color leaked through cracks in the dark, like veins of paint bleeding across an invisible canvas. And then — impossibly — a door appeared. Weathered wood. Rusted hinges. A twisted thing that didn't just look old — it felt haunted by time itself.
It creaked open.
And something stepped through.
At first, I thought it was a man. But no... it only wore the shape of one.
It peeked his head out of the door causing feer to take root inside of me.
When it walked out I saw him, he was beautiful — unbearably so. Long silver hair cascading like liquid moonlight. One eye shone gold, burning like a sun trapped in a cage. The other? A pit. A void deeper than the one I'd just spent centuries inside. He wore a pristine white suit that should've glowed but somehow absorbed the light that didn't exist. A black rose nestled in his lapel like a funeral ornament.
His smile was insanity-given form.
And when he spoke, it wasn't with a single voice. It was a chorus — thousands of versions of him echoing through the dark.
"You made quite the exit, didn't you?" he cooed, clapping mockingly. "Saved a family. Got yourself shot. Whispered some poetic bullshit before bleeding out. Bravo."
Every word hit me like a slap and a lullaby all at once. I wanted to scream. To kneel. To beg. But all I could do was stare.
—"W-Who are you?" I choked.
He tilted his head, expression innocent as a predator.
"Call me what you like. Trickster. Forgotten God. The One Who Listens When No One Else Does. But today?" He bowed theatrically. "I'm your exit manager."
—"Exit… what?"
"Oh, you died. Game over." He grinned. "Or maybe… game reset."
Memories flooded back like a dam collapsing. Blood. Screams. A woman shielding her child. My body—broken. My breath—gone.
—"So… this is Hell?"
He laughed. A sound made of broken clocks and glass.
"Hell? No, no. This is my realm. The Void. A place that doesn't exist... but still is."
—"But why—"
"Leave you here for centuries?" he interrupted with a shrug. "Curiosity. Wanted to see how long it'd take before you cracked. 235 years, give or take. I'm impressed."
The rage hit like a wave.
—"You left me in that hell for your amusement?!" I couldn't believe it, what I thought were months were actually centuries, and this being left me here just because he wanted to be entertained.
"Oh, don't pout." He waved a hand and conjured a screen from the void, flickering with scenes of my life. My family. Their deaths. The night I almost slit my wrists. The strangers I saved. The last breath I gave.
"You had every reason to give up," he said softly. "And yet… you didn't. You chose to die so others could live."
—"Because I had nothing left to lose," I growled.
His grin widened.
"Exactly. And that makes you useful."
He stepped forward. The void parted around him like a curtain.
"Now and then, when I'm bored, I pick someone like you. Someone the universe spat on. Someone broken. And I offer them a second chance."
—"To live?"
"No," he whispered, leaning in. "To exist."
"In a new world. One where your soul might shine… or burn. A world that doesn't care who you are. A canvas." He looked delighted.
"And because I'm feeling generous today — let's do a little game. How many months has a year on your world?"
—"Twelve…" I answered, confused.
"You died in the sixth. Good enough." He clapped his hands. "I´ll grant you six wishes, Anything you want. You want to be God' or 'delete all evil'?, power? Legacy? Bloodlines? Gender? Appearance? Purpose? I can give you all, just wish" He said extending his hands and looking upward.
I hesitated. I should've questioned everything. Should've screamed. But something in me — the broken part, the desperate part wanted to take the chance even when I knew there would be consequences.
—"And the catch?"
His smile was inhuman now. Ancient. Eternal.
"Oh, good question, there's always a catch. Especially with me. But you won't know it 'til much, much later."
"Still want it?"
I stared at him.
At the madness. At the power. At the exit.
I took a breath. Felt my heart — or something like it — beat for the first time in what apparently were centuries.
—"Yes."
He laughed — a sound of endings and beginnings.
"Then wish, little ghost."
"Because next time you open your eyes…"
"You won't be you anymore."