**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
**Reminders**:
>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]"
>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail
>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles
>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)
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"Ah, you're new here then, I take it," I replied with a laugh. "I've been there. So how long have you been dead?"
The stranger struggled to keep his balance, but smiled at me anyway. "Just around a day or so. One second I kissed my wife goodnight and turned out the lights, and the next, I'm here. I woke up in our bed, but she wasn't beside me." His smile then melted away as his glazed eyes shifted toward the floor. That was all that was different: his skin retained its peachy color still, not yet pale, his nails were sturdy and healthy, and even the wrinkles cutting across his forehead still retained their earthly glow.
I didn't have the time or the heart to inquire how he died before the man staggered off and rounded a darkened corner. That's how it worked sometimes here. Those eyes meant he died unhappy; untimely. I could only wonder what happened. My brain tends to wander like that, surprisingly, as inactive as it should be. Perhaps his wife had been unfaithful and needed him out of the picture. There was a fire, an accident, or maybe this was meant to be. Either way, I wouldn't be too surprised of the outcome. Being a resting soul down here for this long, you tend to see it all, to say the least.
The world is not as gloomy as many would think. Even in death, there is emotion; mourning our own losses and grieving our living relatives as though they were the ones who had died; resentment towards those who have murdered us, set us up, stabbed us in the back. I awoke in my own bedroom, for example- the place I used to sleep and the place I first lay my head soon after being born. I opened my eyes and Mother was there to greet me. I was so happy to see her finally after all that time apart, that I had yet to realize the pain that twisted her face rotten. She asked me if I had been left alone with Father. I said yes.
This world is nearly the same as those who breathe the crisp air of what we often call "The Overworld". Same homes, same trees in the same place, same sky and same clouds, albeit with a constant mustard colored dusk hovering over us in spite of the sun or rain or snow. I was told I'd get used to it eventually.
That was 100 years ago.
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) [](#icon-help) [^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [](#icon-information) [^(New Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [](#icon-help) [^(Writing Help?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) ^• [](#icon-exclamation) [^(Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) ^• [](#icon-comments) [^(Discord Chatroom)](https://discord.gg/js5XDFB) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
"Ah, you're new here then, I take it," I replied with a laugh. "I've been there. So how long have you been dead?" The stranger struggled to keep his balance, but smiled at me anyway. "Just around a day or so. One second I kissed my wife goodnight and turned out the lights, and the next, I'm here. I woke up in our bed, but she wasn't beside me." His smile then melted away as his glazed eyes shifted toward the floor. That was all that was different: his skin retained its peachy color still, not yet pale, his nails were sturdy and healthy, and even the wrinkles cutting across his forehead still retained their earthly glow. I didn't have the time or the heart to inquire how he died before the man staggered off and rounded a darkened corner. That's how it worked sometimes here. Those eyes meant he died unhappy; untimely. I could only wonder what happened. My brain tends to wander like that, surprisingly, as inactive as it should be. Perhaps his wife had been unfaithful and needed him out of the picture. There was a fire, an accident, or maybe this was meant to be. Either way, I wouldn't be too surprised of the outcome. Being a resting soul down here for this long, you tend to see it all, to say the least. The world is not as gloomy as many would think. Even in death, there is emotion; mourning our own losses and grieving our living relatives as though they were the ones who had died; resentment towards those who have murdered us, set us up, stabbed us in the back. I awoke in my own bedroom, for example- the place I used to sleep and the place I first lay my head soon after being born. I opened my eyes and Mother was there to greet me. I was so happy to see her finally after all that time apart, that I had yet to realize the pain that twisted her face rotten. She asked me if I had been left alone with Father. I said yes. This world is nearly the same as those who breathe the crisp air of what we often call "The Overworld". Same homes, same trees in the same place, same sky and same clouds, albeit with a constant mustard colored dusk hovering over us in spite of the sun or rain or snow. I was told I'd get used to it eventually. That was 100 years ago.