idea: a choose-your-own-adventure story where every choice leads to you dying. it’s set in an abandoned kmart.

The dust in the air was thick, flavored with mildew and expired cleaning supplies. Neon tubing, meant to buzz with the mundane promise of discounted towels, now hung limp and broken, like skeletal streamers. You stood in the cavernous main aisle of the old Kmart, a forgotten monument to discount retail.

You had no idea how you got here, only that you were here, and something felt profoundly, irreversibly wrong. A faint, metallic smell hung low, mixing with the scent of rot.

To your left, the faded, gaudy colors of the seasonal clothing section beckoned. A pile of moth-eaten prom dresses and regrettable Hawaiian shirts seemed to shimmer in the gloom.

To your right, the darkened bulk of the ‘Household Goods’ section loomed—a labyrinth of chipped enamelware, dusty canning jars, and defunct vacuum cleaners.

You are trapped between the past and the refuse.

Do you venture into the glittering melancholy of the Clothing Section (Go to Choice A)?

Or do you press deeper into the ominous depths of the Household Goods (Go to Choice B)?

Choice A: The Clothing Section

You turn left, drawn by the whisper of faded polyester. The dresses and shirts are heaped high, forming delicate, dusty mountains. You manage to step over a collapsed mannequin whose plastic limbs look like grasping claws. The only sound is the crunch of plaster and the slow drip of moisture from the ceiling.

Ahead, the aisle splits.

  1. You notice a single, relatively clean corner display—a small table holding a box of novelty wigs and a dusty mannequin dressed in a terrible 80s business suit. It looks like the path of least resistance.
  2. You hear a low, rhythmic scraping sound coming from deeper within the back corner, near a stack of unusable cardboard boxes marked ‘PERISHABLE STOCK.’

Do you investigate the mannequin display (Turn toward the suit)?

Or do you follow the scraping sound into the back corner (Head toward the boxes)?

Choice B: The Household Goods

The air here is colder, sharper, smelling of wet cardboard and chemical decay. As you proceed, the sheer density of forgotten domesticity overwhelms you. You pass stacks of porcelain plates, broken to oblivion, and shelving units laden with expired toiletries.

You come to a junction.

  1. To your left, the path is blocked by a tipped-over industrial shelving unit. Carefully navigating around the debris, you spot a promising, clean-looking utility cart, possibly containing survival supplies.
  2. To your right, a dark, low entryway leads into what must have been the defunct electrical and appliance department. The gloom there feels absolute, deeper than the dust allows.

Do you attempt to navigate the utility cart (Climb over the shelving)?

Or do you enter the absolute darkness of the appliance department (Walk through the entryway)?

(If you chose Choice A, Path 1: The Mannequin Display)

The wig display is unnervingly intact. The mannequin in the dreadful suit seems to stare directly at your soul. It isn’t posed; it looks like it is waiting. As you reach the table, your foot catches on something invisible. You stumble, your hands flying out. You graze the shiny, brittle laminate countertop, and a small sheet of faded price tags detaches and flutters toward your face.

You realize, with a chilling clarity, that the movement was all the stimulus needed. The poorly secured stack of wig boxes above the table begins to shudder. The mannequin, perhaps sensing your fatal interest, subtly rocks its head. The boxes give way.

A cascade of plastic netting, cheap synthetic fiber, and broken cardstock rains down upon you, trapping you instantly beneath a suffocating, brightly colored avalanche. The last thing you smell is stale hairspray.

(If you chose Choice A, Path 2: The Back Corner)

The scraping sound intensifies, a metallic shick-shick-shick. It sounds like something dragging itself across concrete, something large and heavy. You cautiously move toward the stack of ‘PERISHABLE STOCK’ boxes. The sound seems to emanate from inside the pile.

You reach the edge, peering into the shadows between the boxes. The sound stops abruptly. Instead, a powerful, sickly sweet smell—the scent of wet roses and ancient dust—overwhelms your senses.

You shine your flashlight into the gap. You see nothing but cobwebs, but the feeling of being watched is absolute. As you hesitate, your elbow knocks against a box, dislodging a dozen corroded metal racks that were stacked precariousy. The racks tumble forward, cascading like falling teeth, and impact your legs, shattering your ankles and sending you plummeting into the dark chasm of expired goods.

(If you chose Choice B, Path 1: The Utility Cart)

The utility cart is a godsend—it’s solid, chrome-plated, and surprisingly full of supplies: industrial solvents, batteries, and half-empty bottles of motor oil. You push it free of the rubble. There’s a sense of immediate, actionable purpose here; you might actually do something with these items.

As you load the cart, a heavy, ornamental brass object—perhaps a fancy kitchen scale or a massive stapler—rests precariously on a nearby shelf, balanced on the edge. You try to sidestep it, but your backpack catches the corner of the shelf. The brass object wobbles, catching the light, and falls.

It doesn’t just drop. It swings, powered by gravity and decades of neglect, and hits you with the blunt, terrible force of inevitability.

(If you chose Choice B, Path 2: The Appliance Department)

The entryway is a yawning mouth of pure, chemical darkness. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what might await in the heart of the forgotten consumer goods. You step across the threshold, turning on your flashlight.

The beam cuts through the gloom, illuminating rows upon rows of skeletal appliances. But the darkness isn’t just the absence of light; it feels like a viscous, physical substance pressing against your skin.

Ahead of you, in what was once the appliance section, the air has congealed. It’s a curtain of dust so thick it resembles gelatin. As you reach out to push through it, the dust suddenly shifts, giving the distinct impression of thousands of tiny, grasping hands pushing back against you.

The ‘dust’ suddenly solidifies, not into a wall, but into a dense, smothering cloud of abrasive particulate matter that fills your lungs and seals your fate.

The dust settles, silent and final. The abandoned Kmart keeps its secrets, and you, its newest admirer, cease to be.