Chapter Zero

Instantly I am awake.
The sheer surprise of the quickness from which I escape the darkness of sleep startles my self, and I lie for a few seconds wondering what woke me. The light coming through the curtains pin points the wall paper, a triangle of golden glow. The curtains are dancing, swirling, moving ever so slightly with the wind coming through the open window. I still have not figured out why I am so suddenly awake. I sit up, to get a look at the room. It is with motion that I realise that I am not alone in the room, a person is lying next to me in the bed. Something is in the corner, a shape that I cannot make out. When I look directly at it, it vanishes. Only out of the corner of my eye can I see it, and it is a black shapeless mass, without borders. The shape is pulling colour in; the blackness is not a shade, it is the absence of any light at all.
It is suddenly upon me. I feel the darkness taking me in, swarming all over my body, and I taste the colour, which I have never experienced. My eyes close over, though to be sure of this I am not, as it consumes me to the point of agony, but I am not feeling any pain.
As quickly as I woke up, the blackness is gone.
I am standing in a completely white room. A single light bulb hangs from the ceiling, which upon closer inspection, stretches to infinity. The bulb seems to hang in the air, floating, holding on to the notion that physics and gravity are watching with interest, curiously wondering how it is staying there, but not bothered by the implications.
The room is more of a space, a vast nothing expanding beyond possibility and reason, my eyes have trouble focusing on the infinity.
Suddenly, a man appears in front of me. He might have been there since I first started standing there, time does not seem to work in the same way here.
He speaks to me.
"You have died. You have 23 hours to stop your own death."
And, with a whoosh of time, space, matter and anti matter, my life is reset 23 hours. I find my self standing outside my house, at the bus stop, with my briefcase in my hand.
And so, my Deathtime begins.