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I Still Don't Know

Extreme close-up of a bare foot on a steel morgue tray, a white sheet over the rest of the body, a manila paper toe tag tied to the big toe with string.

Low angle from behind: the narrator, small in frame, one shoe on and one bare foot, walks toward a colossal wrought-iron gate in thick grey fog, escorted by two faceless grey ushers.

Close-up of the weathered enamel signboard above the iron gate in fog.

An endless orderly queue of dead people in ordinary clothes (office workers, grandmothers, a cricketer in whites, a schoolboy, a man in a bathrobe) snaking back through grey fog to the gate, all pale, all with toe tags.

1

Inside a vast fluorescent-lit government corridor, the narrator seen from behind looks up at a giant airport-style departures board.

In the corridor the clerk has just appeared, seen only from behind, his face not visible, pointing down the long corridor with his clipboard hand.

Medium two-shot, symmetrical: the narrator on the left, eyes wide in shock, recoiling slightly; the clerk on the right, the identical face, perfectly calm and politely blank, clipboard against his chest.

The clerk walks ahead, leading the narrator down a long corridor lined with numbered doors; a hanging sign with an arrow reads HELL HALL 1.

A vast hospital ward under a hanging sign that reads exactly "HELL HALL 1 · OLD AGE".

2

The clerk points at a framed official poster on the ward wall: three pictograms in a row, a standing figure, a seated figure, a lying figure, joined by one-way arrows, headed POSTURE RULES with the line NO GOING BACK.

A gloomy ward under a hanging sign that reads exactly "HELL HALL 2 · DISEASE".

A side bay of Hell Hall 2: a happy scruffy brown dog trots along a conveyor belt into a chute in the wall marked RECYCLE TO EARTH with a little globe icon, tail wagging.

A ward under a hanging sign that reads exactly "HELL HALL 3 · ACCIDENTS".

A massive reinforced door at the end of a dim corridor, yellow and black hazard stripes, a sign above reading HELL HALL 4 with the rest of the name covered by masking tape.

3

Wide shot of a chaotic hangar-sized ward under a crooked hand-painted sign HELL HALL 4 · RIDICULOUS DEATHS hanging by one chain: grown men bawling violently, one starting to speak then turning away mid-sentence covering his face, others stomping and wailing with arms raised.

Extreme close-up of two faces filling the frame, side by side: the narrator on the left with one eyebrow raised, sceptical, mid-question; the clerk on the right, the identical face, answering with total bureaucratic calm, eyes down on his clipboard.

A dead man in a business suit sits on a bed in Hell Hall 4, sobbing, holding a cracked fortune cookie in one hand and its little paper slip in the other, crumbs on his tie.

A sobbing groom in a cream sherwani and marigold garland on a bed in Hell Hall 4, with an inset sepia flashback frame: a joyful Indian wedding procession at night with a brass band, a reveller firing a pistol into the sky, a dotted arc showing the bullet curving back down toward the groom on his white horse.

4

In a corner of Hell Hall 4, a single heavy old wooden door with a brass padlock and a small plate reading ROOM 0, a warm orange glow leaking from under it.

A small, innocent, fluffy white dog sits beside the padlocked door of ROOM 0, head tilted in honest confusion.

The door of ROOM 0 flung open, orange glow behind: a pale man wrapped in a bloodstained hospital bedsheet bursts out and clutches the narrator's shoulders, mouth wide open as if to speak but no sound comes; the narrator rigid with shock.

The open doorway of ROOM 0, pitch black inside except a dim orange glow deep within.

5

The narrator pleading desperately with both palms pressed together, tears in his eyes; the clerk motionless, eyes fixed on the floor, clipboard at his side.

From inside the dark room looking out: the door almost closed, only a thin vertical strip of fluorescent corridor light left, the clerk's calm face half visible in the gap.

Near-total darkness.

6

Extreme close-up of a bare foot on a steel morgue tray, a white sheet over the rest of the body, a manila paper toe tag tied to the big toe with string.

Low angle from behind: the narrator, small in frame, one shoe on and one bare foot, walks toward a colossal wrought-iron gate in thick grey fog, escorted by two faceless grey ushers.

Close-up of the weathered enamel signboard above the iron gate in fog.

An endless orderly queue of dead people in ordinary clothes (office workers, grandmothers, a cricketer in whites, a schoolboy, a man in a bathrobe) snaking back through grey fog to the gate, all pale, all with toe tags.

Inside a vast fluorescent-lit government corridor, the narrator seen from behind looks up at a giant airport-style departures board.

In the corridor the clerk has just appeared, seen only from behind, his face not visible, pointing down the long corridor with his clipboard hand.

Medium two-shot, symmetrical: the narrator on the left, eyes wide in shock, recoiling slightly; the clerk on the right, the identical face, perfectly calm and politely blank, clipboard against his chest.

The clerk walks ahead, leading the narrator down a long corridor lined with numbered doors; a hanging sign with an arrow reads HELL HALL 1.

A vast hospital ward under a hanging sign that reads exactly "HELL HALL 1 · OLD AGE".

The clerk points at a framed official poster on the ward wall: three pictograms in a row, a standing figure, a seated figure, a lying figure, joined by one-way arrows, headed POSTURE RULES with the line NO GOING BACK.

A gloomy ward under a hanging sign that reads exactly "HELL HALL 2 · DISEASE".

A side bay of Hell Hall 2: a happy scruffy brown dog trots along a conveyor belt into a chute in the wall marked RECYCLE TO EARTH with a little globe icon, tail wagging.

A ward under a hanging sign that reads exactly "HELL HALL 3 · ACCIDENTS".

A massive reinforced door at the end of a dim corridor, yellow and black hazard stripes, a sign above reading HELL HALL 4 with the rest of the name covered by masking tape.

Wide shot of a chaotic hangar-sized ward under a crooked hand-painted sign HELL HALL 4 · RIDICULOUS DEATHS hanging by one chain: grown men bawling violently, one starting to speak then turning away mid-sentence covering his face, others stomping and wailing with arms raised.

Extreme close-up of two faces filling the frame, side by side: the narrator on the left with one eyebrow raised, sceptical, mid-question; the clerk on the right, the identical face, answering with total bureaucratic calm, eyes down on his clipboard.

A dead man in a business suit sits on a bed in Hell Hall 4, sobbing, holding a cracked fortune cookie in one hand and its little paper slip in the other, crumbs on his tie.

A sobbing groom in a cream sherwani and marigold garland on a bed in Hell Hall 4, with an inset sepia flashback frame: a joyful Indian wedding procession at night with a brass band, a reveller firing a pistol into the sky, a dotted arc showing the bullet curving back down toward the groom on his white horse.

In a corner of Hell Hall 4, a single heavy old wooden door with a brass padlock and a small plate reading ROOM 0, a warm orange glow leaking from under it.

A small, innocent, fluffy white dog sits beside the padlocked door of ROOM 0, head tilted in honest confusion.

The door of ROOM 0 flung open, orange glow behind: a pale man wrapped in a bloodstained hospital bedsheet bursts out and clutches the narrator's shoulders, mouth wide open as if to speak but no sound comes; the narrator rigid with shock.

The open doorway of ROOM 0, pitch black inside except a dim orange glow deep within.

The narrator pleading desperately with both palms pressed together, tears in his eyes; the clerk motionless, eyes fixed on the floor, clipboard at his side.

From inside the dark room looking out: the door almost closed, only a thin vertical strip of fluorescent corridor light left, the clerk's calm face half visible in the gap.

Near-total darkness.

The End

He still doesn't know. You can read how it was first written, or start again.

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BrownPhantom / 2026