It takes you centuries to discover you are dead.

After reading a book, all the forces of an unknowable maddening god bear down upon you. This condition is hereditary.

You frequently fail to pronounce, describe, or name anything significant in your life.

You are on a desolate rock. Geometry has taken an active dislike to you.

You set out to discover your ancestral heritage. You succeed, then self-immolate.

You set out to discover your ancestral heritage. You find it still alive, buried in your basement.

Your ancestral heritage sets out to discover you. It succeeds. You attempt to drown yourself.

Your friend discovers how to reanimate the dead. His creations rise up and take him, leaving behind a mess. While you’re unconscious all evidence of these things disappear.

You are a seeker of strange stories. You find one, then fight the urge to shoot yourself for the rest of your life.

You go out graverobbing with your friend. Your friend is mauled to death and you run, forever.

You are in Massachussets. Something terrible happens to you.

You are in Massachussets. Something terrible happens to the locals.

You are in Massachussets. Something terrible happens.

Despite better judgement, you are still in Massachussets.

Inspired by this series, originally posted here