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>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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You wake up in the same way you've woken up so many times before. Lie in the perfectly made bed, in the perfect white house, in a street of identical white houses, in a town full of identical streets. For years, it had seemed like home, but now, as you look out the window, you see it for what it truly is.

A facade.

You had went into that room out of curiosity. A crack in a wall, showing a room on the other side that was anything but ordinary. There was loudness, and chaos, and all the things that in your life, didn't exist. You had closed off that memory, filled the gaps in with the comfortable knowledge that it was all a dream.

But deep down you knew it was different. You knew the sound of another world hidden under the walls of your own, and you were going to find it again if only to prove yourself correct.

More cracks started appearing a few weeks after that.

A careless bagel and coffee left in the window of an "abandoned" house. The coordination between everyone, as if it was all a convoluted dance designed to draw the viewers attention away from the weak links of reality.

A week after that, you found the cameras.

This is my first post on this sub so any and all feedback is appreciated. Have a great day!

Okay so to be fair, they have been holding me captive my entire life and manipulating me in order to create entertainment, but I may have gone a little overboard.

Realising I was on TV was not as hard as the films make out. I mean seriously, it would be so much easier for them if they actually created an original reality that they could warp to fix any issues they may run into but no, the idiots created an entirely basic world, seemingly identical to the world outside which I am still yet to visit.

After one two many terrifying crowds of people ran me away from buildings that supposedly had no interior, I realised how conveniently timed and manoeuvred everything was. I’m about to enter and suddenly whoever I am with starts to drag me somewhere they supposedly just “have to go” and on cue, a crowd leaves the building, getting off work at 11am, none of them ever actually making contact with my body but rather my only fear of being crushed moving me away.

So needless to say, at the ripe age of 18, I figured it out. I started screwing with people by first informing my careers advisor that I intended on becoming a flight attendant, the perfect career to travel the world and see all the things I never got to see as a child. The panic in her face was priceless but sure enough, a surprise uni fair that I “was informed of a month ago” appears on school grounds and I instantly get mobbed by an administrator begging me to attend their unsurprisingly local uni. I let everyone relax and accept their offer.

I switched it up a notch and decided to have the rebel phase I’d always been too terrified to go through. “Disappearing” till all hours and concealing my grins at the fake fear on my “parents” faces knowing full well they knew where I was the whole time. Took up drinking which I doubt was like actual drinking as everything just tasted like sewage and made me feel nothing, presumably so I wouldn’t actually develop any health complications from it but would still stop doing it.

I wasn’t sure why I was doing all these things, they weren’t helping me to escape. I guess they were just ways to fill time. Allow me to push back, rebel against them, make myself a nightmare. Make them feel slightly bad about filming me my whole life, hiding cameras in my shower and mirrors, falsifying friendships, manipulating me and moulding me how they wanted me to be. I wanted to make things difficult, so I continued down this path.

One night I “accidentally” put a fork in a plug socket, just so I could hopefully black out the cameras for the night and let myself feel free. But somehow they idiots managed to connect everything together. I blacked out everything with that one simple action. I could hear the panic around me, feel it in the air. But this was my chance.

One major side effect of realising that you are being watched is learning to see in the dark. I would shower, dress and have fun in the dark so once again, I could feel free. I had learnt the intricacies of my house and could make out all the outlines of things. I could hear my “parents” calling for me. Insisting I stay in my room to stay safe. Fat chance. I got myself downstairs, into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find.

About an hour later everything turned back on. Safe to say they’re going to let me go.
They can’t very well continue to make money off of someone who massacred an entire village.

Even if nobody saw me do it, they all saw the first shot when the cameras came back on. Me in the centre of town, drenched in blood, surrounded my bodies.

I don’t know why they acted all surprised, they all watched me kill my sister when I was 12. I was never one to give up the spotlight, and I could sense they were getting bored of me, the plots were getting weaker. But now no one will forget me. I will be immortalised

What a fucking plot twist! Well done!

Godfuckingdammit OP nailed this!

I have no words…. Awesome doesn’t really do this justice

Great start.. more please? A part 2.

I call it fuckery.