[ WP ] You have died and gone to hell , but it 's not what you expect . You wake up naked in a field with nothing but trees around you ... it turns out that hell is an early access survival game .

A blinding white light and unbearable pressure followed by an earth shattering darkness. 
 
 My world seemed to writhe and convulse around me, it felt as though God himself had flicked whatever internal gyroscope that held my sense of direction and sent me falling. 
 
 Falling. 
 
 With a jarring suddenness I stopped. I slowly became aware of ground on my back A damp musky breeze brushed over my face. I struggled to remember what happened before the light, that brought me here. As I opened my eyes I saw a roiling grey sky and a waving field of prairie reeds. I vaguely remembered driving to work. Looking around only brought up more questions than answers, the wilderness seemed boundless, no faint sounds of cars or even people in general. 
 
 The longer I bumbled around, the more everything seemed slightly off. There were no audible birds either, if you listened intently you could hear some insects and perhaps other small animals scurrying. The air smelled ever so faintly of copper and decaying wood. With the sun not quite at its zenith, I decided to set off to find... Something. I decided to head for a patch of woods that resembled the deer trails I had grown up aimlessly following. Soon my `` trail'' petered out into nothing more than a half a million other imaginary trails that have criss and crossed every woodland since the dawn of time. Before long I heard a rustling further off in the brush ahead of me. 
 
 It sounded much larger than anything else I had heard since landing here. 
 
 I tentatively made my way towards it, there were more briars than I expected. I was going to have to be careful, they could make life annoying very quickly. As I got closer to the source of the noise I could hear a whimpering. 
 
 Behind a rather large oak I was startled by a woman. Or rather what seemed to be the husk of a person. Bloodied and apparently delirious she stared up at me with frantic eyes. 
 
 `` Have y-you come for me? Are you chasing rabbits or you have seen Mr. Bundy?'' she wheezed. 
 
 She had briars in her wild hair and was bleeding from the thousand tiny cuts that one could expect from running through a thick patch. As a result most of her clothes were in tatters and her leg looked like it had been mauled by a bear with very blunt teeth. 
 
 `` I.. Im sorry, I do n't know what you're asking... What happened? Do you know where the city is? Maybe we can-'' 
 
 `` GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME. IF YOU'RE GON NA TAKE A SWIPE JUST DO IT ALREADY YOU PIECE OF SHIT CO-'' she raved, almost foaming at the mouth. 
 
 I did n't stay to hear the rest. Bewildered and now scared I ran back to the trail. I could still hear her screams seeming to echo off the sky itself. I decided it was my priority to get out of earshot from those wretched noises. After a few minutes of jogging I soon realized that this was not the same trail I had come on. Thankfully I was no longer able to hear the woman, but the forest was getting thicker. 
 
 Senses heightened with anxiety I became aware of a smokey smell in the air. It was as good a thing as any to follow so I set off, heading into the twilight forest. Maybe 30 minutes later I look up and see billowing black columns, the smell is pungent. I can almost taste it. Slowly I make my way toward a break in the trees, though this was not the clearing I woke up in. 
 
 Through the trees I can see a chainlink fence topped with barbed wire surrounding a compound of sorts. People resembling little more than skeletons in burlap sacks walked sullenly about. 
 
 Off to one side I spotted an entrance with arching cast iron letters, I read `` Arbeit macht frei'' 
 
 In a wave of horror I remembered learning about the work camps of WWII in grade school. Everything came crashing back to me. 
 
 I ran, yet again, to the trail. Mind racing all the while, I was driving to work from the hotel I liked to stay in whenever I worked late and home just seemed too far to drive. Though my night had n't ended then, my secretary had come through with a bag of blow and we fucked late into the night. No wonder I was so groggy that morning, I probably would have noticed the roadwork signs... 
 
 Did I crash into a cement truck? 
 
 None of this made any sense. I looked around frantically. There were deep cuts littered among the tree bark all around me, had those been there before? 
 
 About 15 yards off the path I spotted a small stream, suddenly feeling very dehydrated I made my way over. Ever more cautious I crept up to the bank and found what looked like a clean spot to drink from. 
 
 The water felt cool and refreshing on my hands and face. It seemed to ground me a bit but my head was still spinning with thoughts and questions. 
 
 Was the lady an escapee from the camp? How was there even a camp, the war ended over 100 years ago. Where the fuck am I? I did n't get to wonder long. 
 
 I heard footsteps approaching from upstream. 
 
 Quickly and quietly as I could I was able to climb up a nearby tree and perch among some thick foliage. 
 
 My mouth had a slightly metallic taste and was growing numb. Maybe the water was n't safe.. 
 
 A clown sauntered into my field of vision. The light was fading fast but there was no mistaking him. I had maybe 45 minutes of light left. In one hand he held a bouquet of balloons, in the other he appeared to be letting the stream tug at a large sheet of colorful paper. I began to feel strangely giddy. It almost looked as if the paper in the stream was pulling the clown along. From my seat among the branches I could hear him whistling a jovial tune. 
 
 The ground seemed to be tilting further away from me. Though never being comfortable with heights I did n't pay much mind. 
 
 The clown eventually let the sheet go floating downstream and stopped. 
 
 Apparently lost in thought he continued to whistle, gazing into the trickling water. 
 
 The sound of the water flowing over the rocks and roots of the forest floor seemed to be growing louder. The dying light of the day played off its surface brilliantly, as if a fine layer of glitter were floating atop the stream itself. 
 
 The liquid motion of the water seemed to spill over onto the banks, as if the ground itself were alive and flowing. 
 
 His song lilted and danced its merry way around my head. Mouth still feeling metallic and hollow I closed my eyes and began to feel overwhelmed with everything. 
 
 Though the tree swayed lightly in that musky damp breeze, I was having trouble keeping my balance. I felt as if I might lose my grip and fall up, down, or sideways. Brilliant patterns and colors danced behind my eyes, and as my sense of balance trickled back into my head I looked up from my arm. 
 
 The water was still much too bright and much too loud despite the almost nonexistent light. 
 
 The very ground the clown stood on seemed to be breathing to the tune of his song. 
 
 And with the blackest of grins, he looked at me.
