Right, so this one is kind of dark. A bit morbid. Also not edited and the run on sentences are a bit intense. I did this one forever ago, and with some luck I'll go through and edit it at some point.

For some reason I had it in my head that paragraphs were one big sentence with no periods breaking them up beyond commas? I don't know. Odd thing is it was just for this one story, and at no point ever did I think this. Which is really fucking odd.

Anyways, case in point; the other ones are more manageable to read and are formatted correctly. But enjoy this shit for what it is.

Horrible example of my capabilities, honestly. But I'll shut up, because now I'm rambling.

Trigger warning for strong implication of death/death mention. Also description of wound and a mention of a car crash.
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A young girl awakened from a seemingly deep and peaceful slumber, however, in her eyes, it had been anything but peaceful, to her, it was as though her life was flickering before her eyes in a rather peculiar dream state.

The girl in question looked around cautiously and surveyed her surroundings, taking in the eerily bland room, which seemed very clinical, she found herself in, as a familiar fruity sent lingered in the air.

Glistening white walls, floor and ceiling, a small, circular table and two matching chairs of a de-saturated blueish grey, the light grey frame of the semi comfortable bed she was currently resting on and finally, the white fabric of the curtains and bed sheets.

The girl shifted into a sitting position then dragged herself to the edge of the bed before shakily standing up and stalking over to the table set, which had a piece of paper placed neatly next to a cup of tea with a matching saucer beneath it that she hadn't previously noticed.

Sitting down on one of the chairs, she noted the lovely matt finish, and then lifted the patterned teacup with shaky hands to her chapped lips and began absentmindedly sipping on it.

Strangely, the tea was highly sugary with a slightly fruity aftertaste, the reason, if you're wondering, that this was strange to the girl is that the tea seems to be to her preference, yet she's in an unrecognisable, annoyingly plain room.

Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to drink the tea that was mysteriously placed in the room she randomly woke up in.

Shoving the thought aside, she places the tea cup onto the saucer.

Glancing at the strange, text-filled, singular piece of paper, based on the format her initial thought was; "Perhaps it's a consent form of sorts" however, upon closer inspection, she realised it was an information sheet in the format of a peculiar consent form.

She skimmed over the seemingly unimportant paragraphs of text, her attention elsewhere, not completely acknowledging what was being stated, that is, of course, until the text stated her name; Monika Rogers.

Confused, and mildly scared about what the rest of the information could say, she neatly placed the paper back on the table and drank some more of the tea before deciding to live out her five year old self's dream of becoming an adventurer, and aimlessly wander about.

The only thing left in the room that she couldn't fully decipher by merely looking at it, was whatever was behind the barren, white, wooden door with a shiny silver door handle, that intrigued her, yet simultaneously made her want to speed walk back to the bed and hide.

She didn't, Monika tentatively stood in front of the door, which seemed to be taunting her deviously, nagging her, almost.

After speculating on what could be behind the mysterious door, and various scenarios in which something either good or bad happens to her, or simply nothing at all, Monika grasped the icy cold door handle, gently pulled down and slowly nudged the door open.

It was as though an ethereal glow appeared to fuel the antagonising suspense, but to her relief - and slight dismay - it was just a hallway, a disturbingly blank hallway, that was composed of nothing but white, with the nauseating stench of disinfectant hitting her like a tsunami.

Stepping out of the dreadfully de-saturated room, Monika sighed, closed the door gently behind her and quietly began muttering to herself incoherently.

"Perhaps this is a hospital of sorts..."

followed by;

"But why in gods name would I be in a hospital? I'm perfectly healthy."

In a slightly confused daze, she brushed it off, only, of course, after speculating the millions of circumstances that could have possibly taken place.

Cautiously roaming the halls and listening to her soft, nearly silent footfalls in an already silent corridor, Monika waited for something - anything- new to appear in this weird, colourless building.

After a few more eerily quiet minutes, she stumbled upon an elevator, strangely enough, the shiny and glossy, greyish silver, metal doors stuck out like a sore thumb, despite the fact that in a regular building-like scenery, you wouldn't pay it any mind, yet it was almost obnoxious in the completely white hallway.

Pressing the button on the elevator, she waited, and after a minute or so, it produced a quiet ding and the clamp like doors opened, however, much to Monika's dismay, there wasn't a soul in sight for her to question on where she was or how she got here.

Blindly assuming that it was the same, or at least very similar, on all floors, Monika pressed the 'Ground Floor' button, in all honesty, wanting to flee back to the comfort of her home as soon as physically possible.

After the elevator satisfyingly produced a ding, signifying she had reached her desired floor, the doors opened, lifting an agonisingly
heavy claustrophobic weight off of her shoulders.

Tentatively, she ventured out into what she assumed to be, based off of other multiple floored buildings she had been to, a reception area.

Monika was barely able to suppress the gag reflex her body tried to force upon her at the sight, everyone within eyeshot looked morbidly broken, disorientated or sickly, including the  -probably-
receptionist. Along with the mortifying stench of rotting corpses fused with disinfectant.

Monika began to wonder if she was in a similar condition as to everyone else, she realised she hadn't once spared her time to glance down at her body, as she usually held her head up high and was quite confident, but it was only now she realised that she hadn't looked at her features, and her entire being felt numb.

Glancing down at herself, she saw mortifying and obviously infected, gaping wounds along with peeling, rotten purplish flesh, it was as though she was a snake, shedding its skin, though, in a much more gore fashion.

Desperately yearning to escape, to flee from this vile place that she still couldn't wrap her head around, Monika frantically searched for an exit, however, oddly enough, there was no exits, no windows, no doors, no vents she could crawl through like in movies, no nothing!

She noticed that the sickly people around her rolled their eyes - or at least, the ones that had eyes- as though this was nothing new, as though frantic humans who look like they should have died at that point, running around in pure panic and terror was a daily routine.

Suddenly remembering the strange article of information from earlier  -like a main character would recall something seemingly unimportant right at the perfect time as they fell in dire need of some form of help- she strode to the elevator once again, determined for answers, but not necessarily wanting to speak to the lingering pedestrians.

A bold voice suddenly emerged in the large room that was previously filled with quiet chit chat, "Oi, if you're one of the new ones then you need to get your room number, and the floor you were on, assuming you weren't paying attention to those, as you did run in here like a headless chicken."

Monika glanced over to the also sickly looking, yet, quite buff receptionist, who was by now, raising an all knowing eyebrow, as they had witnessed this phenomenon countless times before. Unfortunately, this had drawn attention to Monika as she reluctantly trudged to the receptionist.

"Name?" asked the beloved receptionist, almost automatically.

"Monika Rogers" was the rhythmic, robotic, almost practised reply.

The receptionist started typing at light speed on an old looking box shaped computer.

A second had passed and the receptionist suddenly blurted;

"Floor 5, room 554."

In her peripheral vision, Monika saw the receptionist smile victoriously at the fact she had been able to publicly shame the 'new kid' as everyone watched.

Honestly fed up with this whole fiasco, Monika dashed for the elevator and prayed no one would get in with her during he time it took for the door to close, thankfully, though, no one did.

Monika vigorously pounded the button for level 5, and as the elevator took off she had started fidgeting with her hands and tapping her foot frantically on the metal flooring, she thought; 'How come I can't smell myself? Surely I smell putrid at the moment. Perhaps I got desensitised to my own scent in my sleep.'

Once the elevator finally opened its clampish doors, Monika wasn't hesitant in the least, and was desperate for answers.

She leaped out and began sprinting in what she oh so desperately hoped was the correct direction, as she did, her eyes hungrily scanned the numbers on the many identical doors, her eyes, at last, stumbled upon her room.

Violently shoving the door open, and no less violently slamming it behind her, she pounced for the table where her precious information she craved deeply for lay.                                        Properly reading it this time, she absorbed all of the information possible without stopping, that is until she read these words;

'Monika Rogers was asleep in her parent's car in the back seat when another crashed into theirs, the parents only received minor injuries, however, unfortunately Monika had to be rushed to hospital with wounds that proved to be fatal, as she died a few minutes prior to arriving at the hospital.'

The rest was left unread as Monika had fallen unconscious due to shock, her head hit the table with an echoing thud as fresh blood pooled around her, entangling the deep crimson with her short blonde, messy locks, staining it a murky brown with tints of the hell-fire colour that is red.

She didn't die though, with her head wound she should have died, but unfortunately, she couldn't, she was already dead, yet trapped in an inescapable hellish afterlife.