⚠️ Content Warnings ⤴
Info
Content Warnings:
This story includes themes of death/missing persons and may be upsetting to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.
Written and conceptualized by ReyDay
Critics/Reviewers:
Greggita Mahayfaio
LiminalDoctor
| Page Type | Articles |
|---|---|
| Author Page | ReyDay |
| Levels | Level 986 |
| Unnumbered Levels | Death’s Door, The Celestial Cathedral(translated) |
| Sub-Layers | Level 800.1 |
| Entities | Coming Soon! |
| Unnumbered Entities | Coming Soon! |
| Objects | Object 48 - “Liquid Pain”, Object 33 - “RoboPets”, Object 64 - "Whisperers", Object 5-FR - “Anemophosis”(translated) |
| Phenomena | Coming Soon! |
| Tales | Echo of Creation, Five Years Since You Went Missing, Knight’s Gambit, For Christmas(translated) |
| Groups | Ariane Circle(translated), The Black Knights(owned) |
| POIs | Nyx(translated) |
| Canons | Black Knights(owned) |
| Joke Pages | Coming Soon! |
| Tech | Enchanted Forest Theme, Music Theme, Deep Sea Theme, Tesseract Theme, Ariane Circle Theme(translated) |
| Guides/Essays | Coming Soon! |
| Art | Diana Evelynn, Fia, Tess Welcome Banner |
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One day, you got up at 7:00 AM as you always did, lazily getting ready for your typical workday ahead of you. Your job wasn’t anything special. You never developed any sense of appreciation or hatred towards it, but it paid enough for you to live somewhat comfortably, so you did the same as any other worker.
You walked out the door of your appartment building, saying goodbye to your neighbors and stopping to pet the stray cat that lived in the bushes outside. You called him Boots. You always wanted a cat, but you weren’t in the position to be able to take care of one. You started walking to the bus stop, playing the daily Wordle game while you put on your headphones and listened to a song from your favorite band. One moment, you were following the routine of the life you built for yourself, the next: gone. You vanished out of thin air.
Your coworkers were concerned when you didn’t show up to your cubicle; not a word of warning said to anyone in the office.
Your parents began to worry when you didn’t answer their daily check-in call to ask about your day at work and nag you about when you plan on visiting next.
Your friends grew scared when they couldn’t reach you, going to your apartment when you didn’t respond to any of their texts or show up for your weekly game of Dungeons & Dragons.
It didn’t take long for the police to get involved. Your family put together a missing persons report, pooling every piece of information they had about when they last saw you. The police didn’t do much of anything, though. They searched your apartment and called everyone you knew, but nothing turned up. You were no where to be found. They marked you off as a cold case and declared you dead.
Your parents planned a funeral for you a few weeks after the police informed them of the news. It was a small ceremony on a rainy day, and only the people closest to you were there. They all mourned the loss of their coworker, neighbor, child, and friend together, sharing the things they wished they were able to tell you. As they lowered your empty coffin into the ground, everyone said their goodbyes.
It has been five years since that day.
One of your neighbors moved into your old apartment. They do their best to keep it clean, taking care of your old furniture and making sure it’s all tidy and intact. They took Boots in, giving him a loving home and showing him the same kindness and warmth that you always did.
Your cubicle hosts someone new, an intern who volunteers at the company for a couple college credits, as was the person before and the person before them. No one ever really stayed there for long. Your old work friends are still in the same neighboring cubicles, though. They never left, and sometimes they call the intern your name.
Your parents are doing fine in your hometown. The adjustment was rough, but they eventually learned to manage. They look wistfully at your childhood bedroom, still exactly how you left it when you moved away. They still wish they could give you one last call.
Your friends still play Dungeons & Dragons together, laughing around a large table as their characters embark on ridiculous quests. They’ve expanded their group and have started a new campaign. Your brother even tried being Dungeon Master for the first time; he still struggles a bit with improv but he really learned a lot from you. They keep an empty chair for you at every session.
Five years ago you were an ordinary person, but you weren’t to us.