The Year 2016.
The ceiling fan wobbled precariously overhead, cutting through the thick, humid air of the classroom with a rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum. It was the sound of boredom.
Siddharth, known to his friends simply as Sid, leaned back in his wooden chair, staring blankly at the blackboard covered in chalk equations that might as well have been alien hieroglyphs*. Around him, the classroom was a hive of restless energy—students packing bags, scraping chairs, and whispering about plans for the evening.
"I wish I could just vanish," Sid muttered, loud enough only for the three boys clustered around his desk. He drummed his fingers on his notebook. "Skip the tests, skip the studies... I am so done with this monotonous, simple life."
Dev, sitting on the desk opposite him, grinned. He was the group’s battery—high energy, always moving. "I know, right? Imagine if terrorists suddenly attacked the school. Like, right now. And we somehow get super powers, save everyone, and become the school heroes. The girls would go crazy."
Ayush pushed his glasses up his nose, not looking up from the textbook he was already packing away. "Are you guys kids or what? This is a no-name government-aided school. Why would anyone waste resources attacking this run-down building? The terrorists have standards, Dev."
"Ouch. Harsh but fair," Dev laughed.
"Shut up and pack your stuff," came the calm voice of Krish. He was the anchor of the group, responsible and already standing with his bag perfectly organized. He placed his water bottle on Sid’s desk with a thud. "The bell is about to ring. Unless you want to get caught in the stampede at the gate, let's move."
As if on cue, the shrill ring of the final bell tore through the air. The fantasy ended. Reality returned.
That night, the heat of the day lingered in Sid’s room. He tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around his legs.
The dream wasn't visual. It was purely auditory, a sensation of vast, crushing darkness.
“Do you want an opportunity to change your life?”
The voice didn't sound human. It sounded like grinding stones, ancient and heavy. It echoed inside his skull, vibrating against his very thoughts.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Do you seek a thrill in your life?”
Sid gasped, bolting upright in bed. His heart hammered against his ribs, sweat sticking his shirt to his back. He looked around the dark room. His cricket bat stood in the corner; his school uniform hung on the chair. Everything was normal.
"Just a dream," he whispered, rubbing his temples. "Too many video games."
He fell back onto the pillow, dismissing the voice. But as he drifted off, the echo remained.
The next morning, the sun was blinding. The streets were the usual chaotic symphony of honking horns, shouting vendors, and rushing pedestrians.
Sid was walking to school, his mind still slightly foggy from the restless night. He adjusted his backpack straps, stepping off the curb to cross the busy intersection. He saw the "Walk" signal. He saw the other pedestrians moving.
He didn't see the speeding truck that ran the red light.
There was no pain, not at first. Just a sudden, violent impact that felt like the world had been flipped upside down. The screech of tires. The screams of bystanders. And then, absolute silence.
Darkness took him.
Time lost its meaning. It could have been minutes or hours later when Sid’s consciousness flickered back online.
Open your eyes, he commanded himself. Nothing happened. The darkness remained absolute.
Move your hand. Just a finger. His body felt heavy, disconnected, as if he were buried under ten feet of concrete. Panic, cold and sharp, began to rise in his chest, but he couldn't even gasp for air. He could feel the tube in his throat, the rhythmic hiss of a ventilator nearby, but he had no control over his own lungs.
He was trapped. A prisoner in his own corpse.
Am I dead? Is this hell?
Suddenly, the darkness in his mind was pierced by a blue light. It wasn't something his eyes were seeing—it was projecting directly into his consciousness.
A translucent, holographic screen materialized in the void.
[CRITICAL ALERT]
Diagnosis: Severe trauma to the brainstem. Status: Total Locked-in Syndrome. Recovery Time: Minimum 5 months immobile.
Sid’s mind screamed in horror. Five months? I can't move for five months?
Before the despair could fully set in, a second window popped up, overlaying the first. It pulsed with a soft, inviting glow.
[SYSTEM INITIATION]
You have been selected. While your physical body recovers, your consciousness is free.
Would you like to become a Player for the duration of your recovery?
[YES] / [NO]
This is the true start of the story, please do let me know if this was worth a read or not
