《1st Game - Tutorial in a detective Universe》


 Prologue - Oh damn I died

    Memories are a strange thing; they shape and form who we are. Right now, mine are jumbled. The last thing I remember is that I was sitting in the car. We were on our way to my grandparents for a short weekend visit. Even those memories are hazy and hard to grasp.


    My head hurts as the memories from before rush through my mind. I remember now. I remember how it was. It takes a few seconds to order my thoughts but once I¡¯ve done that I can clearly recall what happened.


    I sat in the car, tired, because I had school until 1530. Not even 10 minutes after I returned from school I was rushed into the car. My luggage was packed the evening before, knowing we would leave right after I returned. We did that every so often. Just to gain a few hours more with our family many hundreds of kilometres away.


    As usual, my little sister was sitting in the back with our things. Which meant I in turn had to sit in the front. Like always my mother wanted me to act as the second set of eyes. Normally that wouldn¡¯t be a problem, but right now I am far too tired to do even that. I was barely staying awake with things as they were. My mind was filled with numbness, and my eyelids were as heavy as iron, falling closed every so often.


    Adding onto my tiredness was the annoyance of my sister, telling our mother every little detail of the day. It felt like my sister was telling mother about every breath she took. Trying to ignore it doesn¡¯t even help, and I have my music on! Although I¡¯m not allowed to put the music on both ears, in case my mother dearest wants to talk to me. Joining their conversation isn¡¯t really an option either, when one would feel more like a rude stranger interrupting two friends mid conversation, just to ask for the way.


    They chatter the time away, not fully attentive of traffic. I couldn¡¯t claim otherwise. Still, I force myself to stay awake, so I am at least a bit helpful. As helpful as one can be, when my blissful sleep is already more than 13 hours in the past, and every last bit of energy I had is long spent. Mother wasn¡¯t attentive, I was half asleep, and so it happened as it was to be expected. A doe ran on the street, but I wasn¡¯t awake enough to notice it in time. So I couldn¡¯t warn my mother. Her attention was otherwise occupied, more concentrated on talking to my sister than driving the car.


    * * *


    I screamed ¡°Doe!¡± the moment I saw it, but unfortunately it was moments too late.


    We crashed into the doe. Mother lost The speed and angle launched us off the rail like a trampoline, flipping the car and leaving us in the middle of the road, upside down. I felt my safety belt digging into my flesh while we hung there at the mercy of oncoming traffic. It is a dreadful feeling of helplessness hanging there, watching as cars evade you at the last second. Even recounting this, I couldn''t guess how many seconds passed


    I felt my head spinning, as the adrenaline was pumping through my veins. My ears were still ringing, like church bells on mess days, from the loud bang from the crash. Besides the spinning and ringing, I felt only pain. My legs, my back, my arm, my throat, my lungs they all hurt. Worst of all was the stitching feeling in my heart.


    Blood is running down my tights dripping down my legs, my eyes are drawn to the gaping wound, parts of the bone are sticking out. My neck is stiff, my eyes unable to see more than half of that wound. My limbs feel as if deeply asleep. Pieces of the car pressed in on me, pushing glass shards deeper into the wounds they created. My arm stuck in a claw-like grasp of metal and glass, far worse than the feeling of rose veins. With the subtle shifts in my body, the cause of pain in my throat became evident as the safety belt stretched across my neck, like a cobra constantly tightening its grasp.


    Shifting the tiniest muscle in the desperate try to reduce the pressure on my neck, causes another shark pain in my rips. With each shift of a muscle it became more noticeable, stealing the breath from my tiering lungs. Each breath rattling with need, only grantig slight mercies of relief.


    Each pump of my heart equals thousands of needles piercing through it, while black spots started to consume my vision. The burning got stronger. I feel as if water is flowing into me instead of the air I am so desperate for. My mouth tastes like iron, my throat is running full, yet all those sensations are as if muted. Time passes and they fade into the back of my mind. The natural reflex to breathe doesn''t stop, even when I feel only metallic tasting fluid bubbling in my mouth. Every torturous second I prayed for Death to take me faster. I hoped for help to arrive, but there was this little traitorous voice reminding me of the futility of such a hope. With each ticking second the need for me to beg for my end increased, but yet I couldn''t move, I wasn''t in control, I had to wait for Death to come on their terms.


    * * *If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    After all that flooded my mind I observed that the metallic smell of blood isn¡¯t there anymore. That''s not exactly right, there isn¡¯t anything to smell at all. Nothing! The horrendous taste simply gone, no noise, all feels numb. Yet I feel light as if I am no longer bound by gravity. As if, that would be possible. No! That can¡¯t be. Can it? If that were true it meant I would have to have passed on. Something¡ª


    I stop myself there, focusing my attention back to my observations. Slowly my gaze wanders down to my feet. I see no blood, no gaping wounds. As my eyes wander deeper they stop just as I see myself floating a few centimetres over the ground. Like actual floating. That just shouldn¡¯t be possible. Am I a ghost now? Or am I a soul in a corporeal form? As those questions start to bother my thoughts, the panic rising, other things come to mind.


    Yet I can¡¯t stop thinking over my new form of existence, I also keep wondering why it felt so painful when my memories returned. How can I feel pain, when I didn''t even have a body, to begin with? Perhaps because I thought that I still had a body. There is some logic in that, kind of at least.


    * * *


    ¡°You are quite right with your thoughts,¡± I hear a voice behind me. The voice is neither soft nor raspy but rather a melodic one. I can¡¯t tell if the person speaking is male or female just by hearing their voice.


    A bit startled I spin around to see who is talking. Standing before me is a person with androgynous features. The hair is black flowing down their back. It seems like their hair is absorbing the light around it. A soft smile on their full lips. They are wearing a flowing fabric that reminds me of a toga. Like those, you see when they show you the gods of ancient Greece. But then at the same time, it is different. Observing it in more detail I notice, it¡¯s more like a combination of a toga and a modern suit. Very elegant and something certainly missed in modern days fashion. The colours of the fabric is dark blue, reminding me of the night sky.


    After noticing all those things I finally look up. Now, I look the person right in the eyes. For a moment it is like time has stopped entirely. Those eyes are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The blue is so dark that it seems black and blue at the same time. In the midst of the blue are specks of silver, as if silver glitter was caught on the surface of blue ink. I don¡¯t know, how long I got entangled in those eyes, but the spell is only broken when the person clears their throat.


    I shake my head to stop myself from staring any longer. ¡°Please excuse my staring, your eyes are quite ¡­ memorising,¡± I try to excuse my behaviour. My answer is the most ethereal laugh I have ever heard. ¡°It¡¯s quite alright. Come along young one we have much to discuss,¡± the person tells me. Their voice is gentle and welcoming as if they didn¡¯t mind my eyes being glued to their beauty. I nod and follow along. What else can I do, obviously I died. It is not that there are many options here in this endless white.


    So I follow the person till we reach a place surrounded by trees. I feel so calm and at peace here. It¡¯s a feeling I haven¡¯t felt in a long time. My anxiety has faded away like it was never there. The thoughts that usually race at high speed through my head have slowed down. I can feel my slightly insane thoughts fade away like they were never there to begin with. We sit down and I wait for them to speak.


    * * *


    ¡°At first I would like to apologise to you. You were meant to survive this accident. But you ended up dying. Even if it was your wish to return to your old world, It¡¯s impossible for me to do so. Since your body was harmed beyond repair. It is even beyond my powers. Returning your soul in another body to this world, as it would upset the balance. So this isn¡¯t an option I can offer you. It pains me that you are in this situation. But I still want to offer you something as compensation,¡± this person starts sincerely, their voice sounding almost heartbroken to have caused this situation, or being the one to solve it now.


    ¡°Firstly, as you might have guessed, I¡¯m a god. The god. Or whatever other thing the humans have named me over the years,¡± the being or god states. In that moment they seem old. Not unkind or anything similar just old loaded with countless experiences, like they have seen everything and are still around unable to fade away.


    After a short pause, they tell me what their offer beholds: ¡°I can offer you one of two things. The first of those is the thing everyone can choose. Namely, to go on and let their soul rest. Eventually, those souls are reborn in a new life without their former memories. ¡°


    Again they pause for a short moment letting the words sink in before continuing: ¡°Your second option is to choose a second life. In this life, I would connect you to a game of sorts, where you are able to live like one of your Characters. I know you have created some for the stories you planned to write¡±.


    I listen to the options both mean in the end essentially the same but the second option sounds just like so much more fun. Different than the lives lived in the dull and cruel world I came from. Maybe this fun option might grant me what this live didn¡¯t. ¡°The first option would let me leave everything behind, forget and start completely anew. While the second option sounds far more interesting it would force me to work through my issues and the memories. Both options have benefits. I will still choose the second option. The downsides are as great as the benefits but that¡¯s alright with me,¡± I decide after some pondering.


    The god nods: ¡°Now you can choose the genre of your first main quest in your tutorial. Your options are Fantasy, Action, Survival, Historical or Biblical¡±. I am told. I think about it and then say: ¡°Okay. I choose Action as the genre¡±. Again a nod and they speak with a loud voice full of finality: ¡°So be it may your way be a successful one¡±. Those are the last things I hear. Again everything fades black before my eyes.