Ficlets

Ryan rolled into a ball and slowly slouched into a sitting position. His vision was blurry and there was a loud ringing in his ears. The air was crisp and cool, which had a calming, soothing effect on a fleeting headache. As he looked around, he found himself in a featureless room about 10 feet square. The walls, ceiling and floor were pure white and emanating a soft glow allowing him to see clearly but not blinding him.
He made an attempt to stand but quickly flopped down. His muscles just didn’t want to respond. Content to simply sit there and recuperate for a bit, he busied himself with checking for injuries – cuts, bruises, broken bones. As the ringing in his ears faded, he could make out some kind of noise. Over the minutes, he could make out voices, like being in a crowded bar, all jumbled together, talking, laughing, singing, but all a mumble.
Hello Ryan.
“Who is that?” he said, startled and looking around. “Where are you? Where am I?”
You died. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life.