Slovakia. A town completely forsaken by God. Two guys, 19 and 20 years old. You are one of them. Both of you are incels, and honestly, you've endured more than enough. You are 5’3", and objectively speaking, you’re ugly.
Watching your miserable life slip away, you decide to head over to an abandoned apartment block just to spend the afternoon listening to music. But this time, you've had it. No more. No more bearing the pain, no more enduring the suffering.
So, you make up your mind. You jump from the sixth floor.
There's no need to describe how it ended. Your friend rushed downstairs and gathered you in his arms, cursing the entire world. Your final sight is a bleak, overcast sky. In those final nine seconds, right before the blood drains completely from your brain, you think of everything and nothing all at once. You wish you could have said goodbye to your mother. To your brother. To your father—a short but honest man who worked ten hours a day without a single complaint. You were his only hope, the sole reason he dragged himself out of bed at six every morning.
19 Years Later
Galway, Ireland. You wake up. You are young Thomas as always, an 18-year-old born into a millionaire family. You have strawberry-blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and you are remarkably tall. You are an aspiring musician, a true prodigy.
It's 19:43.
You’re on a date with your girlfriend, Lauren. She is incredible. She’s your age, you both lost your virginity to each other, and you are both beautiful. She has eyes as emerald-green as the shamrocks of your nation, and she’s incredibly witty.
The two of you are having a night-time picnic, sharing a McDonald's meal—a rare treat since you both usually stick to a strict diet. She’s cracking jokes, her head resting gently on your shoulder. When you deliver a punchline, she laughs and says, "Hey, don’t be such an incel, haha."
You don't understand the word. You look at her, puzzled, and repeat, "Incel?"
The moment the word leaves your lips, an invisible bolt of lightning strikes your brain. Suddenly, you remember your past life. Your old consciousness floods back, seizing control of your body. Terrified, you scream. Seeing the panic in her eyes, you just turn and run.
You check the date... 19 years have passed. 19 years.
Is your mother still alive? Your friend? Your father?
A week later, you buy a plane ticket to Slovakia. You remember exactly where you came from; the layout of the town is burned into your memory. Your girlfriend texts you, but you block her. A girl you used to consider a friend texts you: "Did you break up with her? Come over to my place..." You smash your phone to pieces.
A day later, you arrive in a rush in the back of a taxi, barking orders at the driver on where to pull over. You see new faces in your old neighborhood, people you never knew. A impoverished young girl spots you and begs for change. You hand her a €100 bill. She immediately runs off to the store, and you watch her pick out candy.
You couldn't care less about any of it until you find your friend. He is old now, balding. When he sees you approaching, he spits on the ground. You call out his name, and he freezes in sheer shock. You ask him where the family is—without revealing that they were your family. He hesitates, but the moment you hand him €30k in cash, he relents. Eager to help this wealthy prettyboy, he tells you exactly where to go.
You arrive at the house alone. You knock on the door. No answer. You knock again. Silence. You kick the door open.
Inside, you find your old brother holding a knife. Your biological mother is in a vegetative state. She notices your expensive clothes and tries to speak to you in broken English, but you reply in fluent Slovak.
"What happened to your Dad?" you ask, on the verge of tears.
Your brother, still gripping the knife, tells you that just six months after losing his other son, your father spiraled deep into drug addiction. He's dead. Your brother explains that your father played Russian roulette just to get the money to pay for his son funeral... and he lost-
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
You let out a shriek so violent that when you finally stop and open your tear-filled eyes, you are no longer in that dimension. Everything is white, agonizing, and decaying.
You turn your head and see an angel. Except... it’s not an angel.
In that fraction of a second, the truth hits you. That entire life never happened. It was nothing more than your dying brain hallucinating, trying to process the raw trauma and agony while you lay bleeding out in your friend's arms.
You look at the angel. It smiles, offering its hand to guide you into the afterlife. But you look down, knowing you have only a quarter of a second left. You turn your back on the angel. Ready to plunge into the depths of Hell itself if it means rescuing your father, you leap off the precipice and dive straight into the flames.
And that is where the story of Thomas truly begins: the boy who will spend eternity searching for his father in the abyss.
End.
(If you want to give a rate to me, to improve my writing, dont hesitate)
Watching your miserable life slip away, you decide to head over to an abandoned apartment block just to spend the afternoon listening to music. But this time, you've had it. No more. No more bearing the pain, no more enduring the suffering.
So, you make up your mind. You jump from the sixth floor.
There's no need to describe how it ended. Your friend rushed downstairs and gathered you in his arms, cursing the entire world. Your final sight is a bleak, overcast sky. In those final nine seconds, right before the blood drains completely from your brain, you think of everything and nothing all at once. You wish you could have said goodbye to your mother. To your brother. To your father—a short but honest man who worked ten hours a day without a single complaint. You were his only hope, the sole reason he dragged himself out of bed at six every morning.
19 Years Later
Galway, Ireland. You wake up. You are young Thomas as always, an 18-year-old born into a millionaire family. You have strawberry-blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and you are remarkably tall. You are an aspiring musician, a true prodigy.
It's 19:43.
You’re on a date with your girlfriend, Lauren. She is incredible. She’s your age, you both lost your virginity to each other, and you are both beautiful. She has eyes as emerald-green as the shamrocks of your nation, and she’s incredibly witty.
The two of you are having a night-time picnic, sharing a McDonald's meal—a rare treat since you both usually stick to a strict diet. She’s cracking jokes, her head resting gently on your shoulder. When you deliver a punchline, she laughs and says, "Hey, don’t be such an incel, haha."
You don't understand the word. You look at her, puzzled, and repeat, "Incel?"
The moment the word leaves your lips, an invisible bolt of lightning strikes your brain. Suddenly, you remember your past life. Your old consciousness floods back, seizing control of your body. Terrified, you scream. Seeing the panic in her eyes, you just turn and run.
You check the date... 19 years have passed. 19 years.
Is your mother still alive? Your friend? Your father?
A week later, you buy a plane ticket to Slovakia. You remember exactly where you came from; the layout of the town is burned into your memory. Your girlfriend texts you, but you block her. A girl you used to consider a friend texts you: "Did you break up with her? Come over to my place..." You smash your phone to pieces.
A day later, you arrive in a rush in the back of a taxi, barking orders at the driver on where to pull over. You see new faces in your old neighborhood, people you never knew. A impoverished young girl spots you and begs for change. You hand her a €100 bill. She immediately runs off to the store, and you watch her pick out candy.
You couldn't care less about any of it until you find your friend. He is old now, balding. When he sees you approaching, he spits on the ground. You call out his name, and he freezes in sheer shock. You ask him where the family is—without revealing that they were your family. He hesitates, but the moment you hand him €30k in cash, he relents. Eager to help this wealthy prettyboy, he tells you exactly where to go.
You arrive at the house alone. You knock on the door. No answer. You knock again. Silence. You kick the door open.
Inside, you find your old brother holding a knife. Your biological mother is in a vegetative state. She notices your expensive clothes and tries to speak to you in broken English, but you reply in fluent Slovak.
"What happened to your Dad?" you ask, on the verge of tears.
Your brother, still gripping the knife, tells you that just six months after losing his other son, your father spiraled deep into drug addiction. He's dead. Your brother explains that your father played Russian roulette just to get the money to pay for his son funeral... and he lost-
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
You let out a shriek so violent that when you finally stop and open your tear-filled eyes, you are no longer in that dimension. Everything is white, agonizing, and decaying.
You turn your head and see an angel. Except... it’s not an angel.
In that fraction of a second, the truth hits you. That entire life never happened. It was nothing more than your dying brain hallucinating, trying to process the raw trauma and agony while you lay bleeding out in your friend's arms.
You look at the angel. It smiles, offering its hand to guide you into the afterlife. But you look down, knowing you have only a quarter of a second left. You turn your back on the angel. Ready to plunge into the depths of Hell itself if it means rescuing your father, you leap off the precipice and dive straight into the flames.
And that is where the story of Thomas truly begins: the boy who will spend eternity searching for his father in the abyss.
End.
(If you want to give a rate to me, to improve my writing, dont hesitate)
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