The first time you open your eyes, you're still bleeding. Death did not welcome you then.
The second time you open your eyes, you're gasping for air, water filling your lungs.
The third, you feel your flesh starting to rot, the heat of the ocean vents creating pain where there should be none.
The final time you open your eyes, you're gone.
You find yourself face down on an old, wooden desk. As you push off of it, taking in your surroundings, you wonder if it had all been a dream. It could have been, maybe, but dreaming an entire life - much less a death- was not something your imagination was capable of. But... This life, the one you had dreamed of. It fades quickly from your mind as you try to pull it up, but you lose it, and slip into darkness.
Indeed, the room around you seems to be made from darkness, the lone desk and chair the only thing that appear to be real. Those things too, are slowly becoming consumed by the immeasurable shade. A mirror appears from this darkness, adjacent to the old desk. You reach to touch it, desperate for some knowledge of who you are.
The mirror gives nothing away. You can see a reflection, sure, but there is no way to know it's your own. You're some horrifying creature, made of the same darkness of this room you are trapped in. The only way to tell the difference between you and this... space, are the clothes you wear around your strange form; a white button up, covered mostly with a sweater-vest and bow tie, brown khaki pants that are far too long, and old, beaten up black oxfords. You move to take off your bow tie, it's far too tight, but find that it will not come off. You'd be unnerved by the oddity of this situation had you any memory of what a normal situation would be like. A toothy grin seems to appear on your reflection as it begins to move on its own.
As the reflection reaches into its pocket, you too feel something reaching into yours. As the reflection pulls out three strange keys, those same keys float from your pocket, clattering to the ground in perfect synchronization with the reflection.
The first key is the most normal of the bunch, wrought iron in the basic shape of a key.
The second is a bit odd. There's an ocean liner in a bottle, with a key hanging from its front. You wonder if you need to break the bottle to access it.
The third is definitely the strangest. It appears to be in a constant state of melting, although it reforms itself back to a key when it becomes unrecognizable. You can feel the heat off the key from where you stand, a decent pace away.
A foreboding aura strikes you from behind. Wind grazes where your ears would be, if you had them, and you think you can hear it faintly whisper.
"Choose."
