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Dan Cody

Dan Cody is the creator of Thereafter. He works as a journalist, editing online content for the London Evening Standard.

Story part suggestions by Dan Cody

Submitted on May 14, 2024 at 2:48 pm

When I return to the ground, I am thrown, not placed. Something is sending me a message. Something changed here today.

Submitted on April 29, 2024 at 7:22 am

The light was hot. It overwhelmed me instantly.

Submitted on April 22, 2024 at 5:25 am

Did she need help? I stepped towards her. “Gran, I…” But she cut me off by raising her hand, and then turned to face the mountain. She pointed towards the mist at the top of the mountain, and we all strained to look closer.

Submitted on April 16, 2024 at 6:03 am

On Thereafter, you can easily create a profile with your free account.

You can tell visitors about yourself, your work in progress, and include your social media links.

Your profile is shown whenever you submit a new story part.

Here is how to make the most of your profile:

Register your account

If you haven’t done so already, make sure you have registered for a free account.

Add your author information

There are different things you can tell website visitors about yourself:

Author bio

Your author bio is a great place to tell people about who you are, and your work in progress!

Avatar/Profile picture

Let people spot you by adding a picture, if you like!

Social media links

Add your social media links to let others follow you!

Where is your author profile shown?

Your author profile is shown each time you submit a new suggestion to the story on Thereafter.

All the suggestions that have been submitted by writers for the current week, are shown on the voting page. You can also see suggestions for the previous week.

Remember, your suggestion can be short, long, and any writing style, it’s completely up to you.

How Thereafter works

Thereafter is a collaborative story. Each week writers submit suggestions for what happens next in an ongoing story, and readers vote to decide their favourite option.

You can find out more about how it works in our complete guide.

Submitted on April 15, 2024 at 6:07 pm

Granny, as I used to call her, was in the war. The things she must have seen, though she never liked to talk about it. Those sage eyes, with all their history, stared back at me now. The rest of ours were full of colour. It was almost poetic.

Submitted on April 14, 2024 at 10:30 pm

Thereafter is a collaborative story. Click here to read about how it is written by you and others.

At first, when they arrived, there was an air of curiosity around them. An hour ago, they’d known exactly what to expect. Grandma would be laying out cups and saucers for the mourners. The teapot with the cracked spout would make an appearance. But here they were. In the palm of the creator, at the end of their chapter. A string of pearls on the brink of collapse. The intake a sharp chord plucked from a single breath. Nightfall would incite a hailstorm of depleted stars. The grandfather clock echoed the witching hour. Grief stood at the door with a stretched hand.

“Please, come with me…”
….
The words hung…
…with finality.
The teapot had made an appearance, but not in quite the way expected. Instead of being used to dish out tea and condolences and comfort, it had sat in the middle of the room with no Grandma to put it into action. Just a silence that drowned their eardrums. Had them wondering where the… last amount of time…had gone.
Then she came, and here they were. Grandma was ready for them now, as she ushered to the outside air beyond the door, teapot in hand. They had been reunited, and she looked different. Glowing, light, un-aging…deathly. “We’re going to get some tea, I’ve run out. Your Mother would have wanted her family to be comfortable in such times.” She lined her finger down the edge of the teapots crack.
She stepped out into the nightfall, and they followed, Grandfather clock chiming them off.

The last story part was submitted by cfhaywood on April 1, 2024 8:31 pm.

Submitted on April 10, 2024 at 8:48 pm

Grandma. After all this time, the silent but giant presence in all their lives was here, guiding them out into the anything could happen. They knew deep down that honouring their mother could only be done by making this journey, but that wouldn’t make it any easier to endure.

Submitted on April 8, 2024 at 5:12 pm

All but the sixth, Lily, trudged their way towards the drawing room, burdened with the words Grandma was about to oppose on them. Lily could not move her legs, they had frozen to the ground beneath her, as she looked up at the small painted glassed window on the side of the manor she let out a loud frightful gasp, her colour was fading and her eyes filled with tears as she suddenly collapsed on the gravel.’Lily’ Graham screamed running towards her limp body cradling her in his arms checking she was still breathing ‘Call the doctor at once’ Graham ordered back at the others who were already half way inside by now.

Once they stepped outside, into the nightfall, the darkness was all consuming. It felt heavy, and the group quickly grew frightened.

As they stepped into the night, the stars above seemed to tremble, like tea leaves in a tempest. The hailstorm of depleted stars rained down, each one shattering just before the ground like a fireworks display in reverse. Yet, Grandma’s glow illuminated the path ahead, her usual beacon of light in the darkness. The teapot, now a vessel of the unknown, seemed to hum with a strange energy, its cracked spout whispering ancient secrets to the wind. They followed, mesmerized, as she poured a steaming stream of what looked like moonlight into cups that seemed to materialize from the shadows. And as they paused to sip their moonlight, the bitter taste of grief dissolved, replaced by feelings of sweet remembrance from times past. In this mystically magical moment, the veil between worlds seemed to thin, and they saw, in the swirling steam, visions of their loved ones, reunited and whole once more. Grandma smiled, her eyes sparkling like diamonds in the night, knowing that in this fleeting instant, her special tea pot and love had temporarily bridged the chasm of pain between life and death.

In the palm of the creator, at the end of their chapter. A string of pearls on the brink of collapse. The intake a sharp chord plucked from a single breath. Nightfall would incite a hailstorm of depleted stars. The grandfather clock echoed the witching hour. Grief stood at the door with a stretched hand.

Winner

cfhaywood

“Please, come with me…”
….
The words hung…
…with finality.
The teapot had made an appearance, but not in quite the way expected. Instead of being used to dish out tea and condolences and comfort, it had sat in the middle of the room with no Grandma to put it into action. Just a silence that drowned their eardrums. Had them wondering where the… last amount of time…had gone.
Then she came, and here they were. Grandma was ready for them now, as she ushered to the outside air beyond the door, teapot in hand. They had been reunited, and she looked different. Glowing, light, un-aging…deathly. “We’re going to get some tea, I’ve run out. Your Mother would have wanted her family to be comfortable in such times.” She lined her finger down the edge of the teapots crack.
She stepped out into the nightfall, and they followed, Grandfather clock chiming them off.

As the clock’s reverberations faded, the silence was pierced by the soft rustling of memories, like leaves whispering secrets in the wind. The air thickened with the weight of untold stories, and the scent of forgotten moments filled the air like the fragrance of old books. Grief’s outstretched hand beckoned, inviting them to surrender to the abyss, to let go of the fragile threads that bound them to this world. And yet, even as the stars outside seemed to falter, a glimmer of defiance flickered.

name:

Aaroosh

Their hearts were like mighty beasts, pounding to escape the cage of their ribs. Grief had shown up at their doorstep and all they could do was stare at it, wide-eyed, jaw dropped.
Grandpa was supposed to be dead.
What was he doing here? On the doorstep of his melancholy wife’s house? Facing the grandchildren who knew nothing about him other than his name?

name:

Adrianna

The scene that was unfolding in front of them felt like an alternate multiverse in which every person was a character from “The mourners”, a painting which they saw at an art presentation; it seemed as if each one of them was channeling their train of feelings into a circular path of mirrored souls. A still veil of unspoken accords was fading into the background chatter. She glanced at the people surrounding her and recalled something her mother had told her when she lost dad; that grief is really just love, the love you want to give but cannot.

link:

https://thereafterstory.com/author/adrianna

name:

Dhyasa Morgan

At every funeral, they prepared for him. They would put out Grief’s favoured teapot, serve the biscuits nobody would touch. His arrival was expected, but always foreboding.
The Marjorie’s were very well known to be locked in an intimate dance with life each morning as Death waited patiently at their bedside, waiting to whisper secrets in their ear. Astrid and her sisters had watched their Aunt Sylvie wither as she was told which of their family would be taken next. Such was the curse. You could tell them, and ensure it, or with your silence risk being taken yourself. At best it was one. At worst, both. Regardless, the day after the wake, each household would be on standby near the phone.
To find out where a new body had awoken, from a previously empty bed.

name:

Grace

“Lovely day for it”.
“Yes, it really was a lovely service”.

They fell subconsciously into the familiar script, everyone saying their line on cue with the appropriate emphatic nodding of the head and revered lowering of their voices; quiet, devoted, a convincing performance.
She wished to God that when her day came they wouldn’t use that same tired old script. Instead they would lay out the dog eared map of her life on the dining room table, covered in coffee stains, cigarettes burns and splodges of red wine from one too many on a Friday evening. They would marvel at the landmarks of her life:
“Can you believe she really did that?”
“Well she was always a free spirit that one”.

They would regale their stories until eventually they’d reach the final mark on the map, the top of the mountain, the final resting place where they would sit and watch the sunset and see, truly see, her life and think ‘this was living, this was how to live’.

She nearly missed her cue for her next line.
“Yes lovely day for it”.

Except it wasn’t. There’s no such thing as a lovely day for it.

name:

JESSE RAYMOND CRISOSTO

As the clock’s reverberations faded, the silence was pierced by the soft rustling of memories, like leaves whispering secrets in the wind. The air thickened with the weight of untold stories, and the scent of forgotten moments filled the air like the fragrance of old books. Grief’s outstretched hand beckoned, inviting them to surrender to the abyss, to let go of the fragile threads that bound them to this world. And yet, even as the stars outside seemed to falter, a glimmer of defiance flickered.

https://thereafterstory.com/author/jesseraymondcrisosto44gmail-com

name:

JustAnother.writer

Now no one knew what to expect. Kate could feel nothing but disgust. A huge change in her family ruined everything. But she had no choice. Everyone was here today. She couldn’t wait for the notary to finally distribute the property to everyone else and she would get out the way she came.

Her face contorted into an almost insane grin. Just for a second.

Seeing all the snobs, she leaned back deeper in her chair and closed her eyes. Nothing has thrown her off. Not even the argument caused by her cousin and grandfather. Does that have no respect?

Kate only opened her eyes when the notary arrived.

He sat down and began to read. Kate knew her great-grandmother hated her. Or at least she didn’t respect her decision to leave. She didn’t expect to get anything.

“Now, the last item,” said the notary. All the family members tensed and became alert. No one knew what it was about. “Rooftop loft in Turin belongs to Kate Wright.”

Angry whispers filled the room.

“Sign it here,” the notary moved the contract closer to the edge of the table.

Kate languidly got up from her chair and walked as fast as she could to the notary. Shaking her hand, she took the pen and quickly signed the paper. The notary handed her the keys and smiled. “It’s yours, that’s the end of today. By the way, get over there as soon as you can, Miss Wright. Something awaits you there.“

link:

https://thereafterstory.com/author/justanother-writer

name:

leylarosec

My minds peering at the thick gloopy footprints in the mud on the edge of the green of these lanes of this life. I had been here before, this path was unnervingly familiar, these feelings, echoed amongst the sorrow of their faces. The grip of that palm that clasps my neck, it’s just my collar, but my breath is short, and I’m gasping, all I seem to utter is a whisper of garble. I can almost taste the anguish in this air of despondency, still my lungs feel empty, and I’m gulping back this silent choke. A warm hand on my frosty fingers, pulls me away from my thoughts, but despite the comfort in her gaze, I feel my entire being is weeping, because I can see in her expression how deeply she laments for him. I could give her the peace that she so desperately requires, that they all need, but this secret would be greater than their mourning.

link:

https://thereafterstory.com/author/leylarosec/

name:

livvsamps

The crow cawing suggested it was time for them to take their places, you could taste the leather of the chesterfield as they perched as though it gave off a scent like a perfume bottle being squeezed. It was tough and hard to swallow which made for what was to come a little easier to digest, they looked around at one another as though checking everyone was accounted for, not one of them looked nervous, they all had a sense of calmness to them but they all seemed to carry that tendency, it was a family trait and the secrets they kept were always kept buried. until now, anticipation paced the room as a dark figure entered and a soft wind brushed past them all with the words…

line:

https://thereafterstory.com/author/livvsamps

name:

LizMY

The warmth of the room seeped upwards enveloping them. The door remained open, it began to rain, heavy droplets smacking the flagstone floor. The freshness of the water mingled with the heat of the room, they looked outside and watched the leaden sky. A sense of foreboding was etched on each of their faces. They sat down at the table and waited.

link:

https://thereafterstory.com/author/lizmy

name:

lucy

We had tried to race the solitude it dined with; running red lights; stampeding the poppies that scattered Grandma’s garden, but her chipping red door had been left unlocked.
As our gaggle of relatives swarmed in, thick mud toppled from the welcome mat onto the varnished spruce floor that had began to warp over the many footprints lain upon. It distorted one’s perspective and the walls seemed to curl around, spiralling, sinking in motion with the waving wallpaper. Meeting the homes horizon, the hallway ended and unfurled into Grandma’s kitchen.
“Mum?”
“Nana!”
“Hello?”
These words were those that would then start a chorus of condolences that ruptured something in Grandma forever.
I could’ve sworn our troupe’s begs echoed so loud they managed to shake the fickle walls and flitter the wooden veins of the floorboards below. Objects here already seemed to hum in time with Grandma’s wispy breaths; the house had no allegiance to the laws of the outside world. However this type of visual tempering left a motion sickness writhing in my stomach – my throat seemed ready to betray me and vomit puddled in my mouth. The acid burned my teeth and I strained forward to the kitchen, reaching out to the sink but my dive was interrupted. There in the kitchen Grandma perched.
She stood still and rigid yet with the delicacy of a porcelain doll. The only manifestation of any disarray being her trembling hand gripping the cracked spout of her teapot.

link:

https://thereafterstory.com/author/lucy

name:

mrskoz

Time stood still. The Universe held it’s breath. Grief was waiting, death had come and had laid the eternal hand of oblivion on him. Grief had to follow death -that was the way of things. Birth,joy, life followed by slow decay, death and grief – the endless repetition. But as Grief stood and waited, infinitely patient, the empty eyes staring at her to take it’s hand and begin the journey she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to follow Grief, the depleted stars could wait, everything and everyone could wait because she wasn’t ready to follow…

link: https://thereafterstory.com/author/mrskoz/

name:

nonsensicalflapdoodle

Terry had only ever known Grief as a feeling, never a face or a body. Yet it took no time at all to recognise her as she hovered on the doorstep. Skin the colour of dust, eyes hollow and empty, a gaping black void swirling over her heart. Tragedy and heartbreak on two legs, with the face of a child and the soul of one a thousand years older.

The air seemed to freeze as Grief’s tiny fingers reached out to brush against Terry’s own. Their breath solidified in their throat, choking them in the same way one might feel when suppressing a sob. Brushing quickly became holding; holding became tugging. Before Terry could say a word, Grief had crossed the threshold into their Grandma’s house and was pulling Terry down the corridor with her.

Grandma Julie’s house had always been a maze to Terry. Endless halls; hidden rooms; doors in the most unlikely of places. Even with twenty years of visiting the house under their belt, Terry would be lying if they said they’d discovered it all. But Grief was undeterred by the secret twists and turns within the walls. If anything, they didn’t exist to her at all. She led Terry with sorrowful purpose through the house, as if she’d known the place all her life. It was only when they reached the gallery that she came to a stop. Grandpa Charlie’s portrait hung on the wall. Beneath it sat Grandma’s cups and saucers. The chipped teapot lay in pieces on the floor. Grief’s hand tightened around Terry’s own. The wind blew an agonised wail through the old rickety skylight. A moment of heavy silence. A voice: quiet, weak, and desperate.

“Find me.”

link:

https://thereafterstory.com/author/nonsensicalflapdoodle

Submitted on April 7, 2024 at 4:32 pm

Thereafter is a collaborative story. Click here to read about how it is written by you and others.

At first, when they arrived, there was an air of curiosity around them. An hour ago, they’d known exactly what to expect. Grandma would be laying out cups and saucers for the mourners. The teapot with the cracked spout would make an appearance. But here they were. In the palm of the creator, at the end of their chapter. A string of pearls on the brink of collapse. The intake a sharp chord plucked from a single breath. Nightfall would incite a hailstorm of depleted stars. The grandfather clock echoed the witching hour. Grief stood at the door with a stretched hand.

“Please, come with me…” …. The words hung… …with finality. The teapot had made an appearance, but not in quite the way expected. Instead of being used to dish out tea and condolences and comfort, it had sat in the middle of the room with no Grandma to put it into action. Just a silence that drowned their eardrums. Had them wondering where the… last amount of time…had gone. Then she came, and here they were. Grandma was ready for them now, as she ushered to the outside air beyond the door, teapot in hand. They had been reunited, and she looked different. Glowing, light, un-aging…deathly. “We’re going to get some tea, I’ve run out. Your Mother would have wanted her family to be comfortable in such times.” She lined her finger down the edge of the teapots crack. She stepped out into the nightfall, and they followed, Grandfather clock chiming them off.

The last story part was submitted by cfhaywood on April 1, 2024.

Submitted on March 26, 2024 at 5:29 pm

Here, in everyone’s favourite old cottage, where everything used to make sense.

Submitted on March 17, 2024 at 7:49 pm

At first, when they arrived, there was an air of curiosity around them.

Submitted on March 17, 2024 at 7:27 pm

  • Creating an author profile on Thereafter

    Creating an author profile on Thereafter

    On Thereafter, you can easily create a profile with your free account. You can tell visitors about yourself, your work in progress, and include your social media links. Your profile is shown whenever you submit a new story part. Here is how to make the most of your profile: Register your account If you haven’t……


  • Safety and well-being on Thereafter

    Thereafter is an open storytelling platform. That means anybody can suggest what happens next in the ongoing story, and anybody who visits can see their contribution. This is the website’s foundation, and we think it’s pretty great. However, having an open platform means we need safeguards to protect the community that uses it. How we……


  • How to use Thereafter

    Welcome to Thereafter! This is a collaborative storytelling platform with an ever-evolving story. Whether you’re here to submit your writing or to follow along as the plot unfolds, you’re in for a treat! Here’s how to get involved: How It Works 1. The Story Cycle 🕰️ We recommend that you begin your journey by reading……


Submitted on March 17, 2024 at 7:15 pm

Thereafter is an open storytelling platform. That means anybody can suggest what happens next in the ongoing story, and anybody who visits can see their contribution.

This is the website’s foundation, and we think it’s pretty great. However, having an open platform means we need safeguards to protect the community that uses it.

How we protect visitors to Thereafter

There are some things that you can’t submit as part of a suggestion on Thereafter. These are things that we have decided will either harm visitors to the website, or could potentially aid discrimination of website users of a particular group.

Words which are used to cause offence or discriminate against a particular group based on their ethnicity, religious belief, disability, sexuality, or gender, cannot be submitted as part of a suggestion on this website.

How are the rules applied?

When these words are submitted as part of a story suggestion on Thereafter, the suggested will automatically be blocked. These words will have to be removed to submit the suggestion.

Have a question?

We welcome any questions you may have about these rules or any other aspect of the website at support@thereafterstory.com

Submitted on March 7, 2024 at 3:40 pm

1. Introduction

This Privacy Policy aims to inform visitors of Thereafterstory.com about how we collect, use, and protect your personal information. By accessing or using our website, you agree to the collection and use of information in accordance with this policy.

2. Information Collection

Personal Information

We collect personal information that you voluntarily provide to us when registering on our website, including your name and email address. This information is collected through registration forms.

3. Use of Information

The information we collect is primarily used to improve user experience on Thereafterstory.com. We utilize this information to better understand your needs and provide you with tailored services.

4. Sharing of Information

Your privacy is important to us, and we are committed to ensuring the security of your personal data.

We use Brevo as our email marketing platform. By signing up to emails newsletters on Thereafter you agree that the personal data you provided will be transferred to Brevo for processing in accordance with Brevo’s Privacy Policy.

5. Data Protection

We employ various security measures, including an encrypted website connection, to protect the safety of your personal information. We are dedicated to safeguarding your data against unauthorized access, alteration, disclosure, or destruction.

6. User Rights

As a user, you have the right to request access to your personal information that we hold. You can contact us at support@thereafterstory.com to request the correction or deletion of your personal data.

7. Cookies and Tracking Technologies

We use cookies and similar tracking technologies to monitor website traffic and understand how our users interact with our website. This helps us enhance your experience on Thereafterstory.com.

8. International Transfers

Thereafterstory.com does not engage in the international transfer of user information. All personal data is processed and stored in compliance with local laws and regulations.

9. Changes to the Privacy Policy

We reserve the right to update or change our Privacy Policy at any time. Any changes will be posted on this page, and, where applicable, notified to you by email. We encourage you to periodically review this policy for the latest information on our privacy practices.

10. Contact Information

If you have any questions or concerns about our Privacy Policy or the handling of your personal information, please contact us at support@thereafterstory.com.

Submitted on March 7, 2024 at 3:32 pm

1. Introduction

These Terms and Conditions are designed to provide clarity and govern your use of our website. By accessing Thereafterstory.com, you agree to be bound by these Terms and Conditions, all applicable laws, and regulations. If you disagree with any part of the terms, you may not access the site.

2. User Accounts

Account Creation

To create an account on Thereafterstory.com, you are required to provide your email address. This account will allow you to access certain features of the website that are not available to users without an account.

Account Responsibilities

As a user, you are responsible for the security of your account and for all activities that occur under your account. You agree to notify Thereafterstory.com immediately of any unauthorized use of your account.

3. Privacy Policy

Your privacy is important to us. Please read our Privacy Policy at https://thereafterstory.com/privacy-policy/ to understand how we collect, use, and share your information.

4. Copyright and Trademarks

The content on Thereafterstory.com, including but not limited to text, graphics, logos, and images, is owned by Thereafterstory.com and is protected by copyright and trademark laws. User-generated content on the website is also owned by Thereafterstory.com’s owners. Unauthorized use of the website’s content may violate copyright and trademark laws.

5. Prohibited Activities

You are prohibited from using the website to engage in any illegal activities, harassment, spamming, or any other behavior that disrupts the website’s functioning or interferes with others’ use and enjoyment of the website.

6. Termination of Use

Thereafterstory.com reserves the right to terminate or suspend your access to the website without prior notice if you engage in any of the prohibited activities mentioned above.

7. Disclaimers and Limitation of Liability

Your use of Thereafterstory.com is at your sole risk. The website is provided on an “as is” and “as available” basis. Thereafterstory.com makes no warranties, expressed or implied, and hereby disclaims and negates all other warranties including, without limitation, implied warranties or conditions of merchantability, fitness for a particular purpose, or non-infringement of intellectual property or other violation of rights.

8. Governing Law

These Terms and Conditions are governed by and construed in accordance with the laws of the United Kingdom, and you irrevocably submit to the exclusive jurisdiction of the courts in that location.

9. Changes to the Terms

These Terms and Conditions are effective as of 2024 and may be updated or modified by Thereafterstory.com at any time without notice. By continuing to use the website after such changes, you agree to be bound by the revised terms.

10. Contact Information

If you have any questions or concerns about these Terms and Conditions, please contact us at support@thereafterstory.com.

Submitted on March 2, 2024 at 1:34 pm

Submitted on March 1, 2024 at 4:50 pm

Welcome to Thereafter! This is a collaborative storytelling platform with an ever-evolving story.

Whether you’re here to submit your writing or to follow along as the plot unfolds, you’re in for a treat!

Here’s how to get involved:

How It Works

1. The Story Cycle 🕰️

We recommend that you begin your journey by reading the story so far. As the story is ever-changing, there’s always something new to discover.

Each week, a new part is automatically added to the ongoing story from writers’ submissions. This cycle is the heartbeat of Thereafter, with each week bringing the opportunity for writers to add their vision to the tale.

2. Contribute Your Vision ✍🏻

Feeling inspired? Fantastic! Navigate to the writing page and submit your idea for the next part of the story. Whether it’s a dramatic twist, a deep dive into the psyche, or an abstract concept, your suggestion will be shown for others to enjoy.

3. Vote for what happens next 🗳️

As submissions roll in, the voting phase begins. This is where you and the community decide which contribution best suits the next chapter of our story. Cast your vote and be a part of shaping the narrative’s direction.

4. A New Week, A New Read 📖

With the close of each voting period, the suggestion with the most votes is added to the story. And just like that, the cycle begins again—read, imagine, submit, and vote.

5. Sharing the story 📢

As well as being added to the story, the writing chosen by our community will also be shared on our social media pages.

Click here to read the ongoing story.

Submitted on February 1, 2024 at 6:18 am

This is a storytelling website.

Thereafter is a collaborative storytelling experiment that began in 2024.

On this website, anybody can submit suggestions for the next ‘part’ of an ongoing story. Each suggestion is then voted on, and the most popular suggestion becomes the next part of the story.

In this way, users of Thereafter create a collaborative story that can go in any direction, and contain any style, theme or content.

Submitted on December 29, 2023 at 12:29 pm

Thereafter is an open storytelling platform.

On this website, anybody can submit suggestions for the next ‘part’ of an ongoing story. Each suggestion is then voted on, and the most popular suggestion becomes the next part of the story.

In this way, users of Thereafter create a collaborative story that can go in any direction, and contain any style, theme or content.

Why not read more about How to use Therafter?

Get in touch

Have a question? Contact us at the form below, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.

You can also email us directly at support@thereafterstory.com

    Submitted on September 4, 2023 at 2:45 pm

    TestAaaa

    Submitted on August 31, 2023 at 1:06 pm

    sdas

    Submitted on August 30, 2023 at 6:28 am

    wop

    Submitted on August 30, 2023 at 6:26 am

    gook

    Submitted on August 30, 2023 at 6:22 am

    ey

    Submitted on August 29, 2023 at 6:43 am

    sfadsgfd

    Submitted on August 28, 2023 at 5:47 pm

    Wow

    Submitted on August 28, 2023 at 5:47 pm

    Wow

    Submitted on August 28, 2023 at 5:12 pm

    new?

    Submitted on August 28, 2023 at 5:12 pm

    testnew

    Submitted on August 28, 2023 at 5:11 pm

    hello

    Submitted on August 28, 2023 at 12:55 pm

    testbad wop

    Submitted on August 25, 2023 at 7:06 pm

    Test wop

    Submitted on August 25, 2023 at 5:03 pm

    Welcome to Thereafter!

    This is a collaborative storytelling platform for writers and readers.

    On this website, anybody can submit suggestions for the next ‘part’ of an ongoing story. Each suggestion is then voted on, and the most popular suggestion becomes the next part of the story.

    In this way, the community creates a collaborative story that can go in any direction, and contain any style, theme or content.

    Submitted on August 18, 2023 at 3:47 pm

    Thereafter is a collaborative story which began on 18th March 2024. Click here to read about how it is written by you and others.

    At first, when they arrived, there was an air of curiosity around them. An hour ago, they’d known exactly what to expect. Grandma would be laying out cups and saucers for the mourners. The teapot with the cracked spout would make an appearance. But here they were. In the palm of the creator, at the end of their chapter. A string of pearls on the brink of collapse. The intake a sharp chord plucked from a single breath. Nightfall would incite a hailstorm of depleted stars. The grandfather clock echoed the witching hour. Grief stood at the door with a stretched hand.

    “Please, come with me…”
    ….
    The words hung…
    …with finality.
    The teapot had made an appearance, but not in quite the way expected. Instead of being used to dish out tea and condolences and comfort, it had sat in the middle of the room with no Grandma to put it into action. Just a silence that drowned their eardrums. Had them wondering where the… last amount of time…had gone.

    Then she came, and here they were. Grandma was ready for them now, as she ushered to the outside air beyond the door, teapot in hand. They had been reunited, and she looked different. Glowing, light, un-aging…deathly. “We’re going to get some tea, I’ve run out. Your Mother would have wanted her family to be comfortable in such times.” She lined her finger down the edge of the teapots crack.
    She stepped out into the nightfall, and they followed, Grandfather clock chiming them off.

    The air was intense, what a strange mix of sorrow, anger and loss. These are the usual feelings of grief, but with a sprinkle of bitter sweet deceit. My eyes had stayed solely on the back of grandmas head, her salt and pepper hair in a neat bun, wiry and yet soft. Every single thing in this room seemed to be contradictory, even grandma. Of course she would have known, all these years, she must have known… but you wouldn’t think it, she is so composed, then again, maybe that’s just her character. Her strong shoulders must have felt so heavy all these years, I’m feeling all the feelings, all at once, it is all just racing, and I am trying not to ping-pong from one perspective to another. Empathy, rage, hurt, betrayal, happiness… how can it be so interlinked? My gaze now follows the calming slow movements of this old ladies feet, in those slippers, faux fur lining the rim of the suede, short steps, shuffling along to meet the corner armchair, that has always been grandmas chair. My emotions are so raw, and confused, my thoughts are on overdrive in a chaotic loop, how could Mum do this to us? I can’t even comprehend or fathom how she could have even managed it.

    I’m still fixated on grandmas feet, she’s now fully seated, on the old fashioned red velvety armchair, silence sweeping coldly through the room for what feels like a century. I’m building my courage internally to look up.. 1,2,3, okay, I’ll count down again from 5, not that swapping the numbers about or adding on a few is going to make any difference.

    I land on the one with the familiar waives of dark auburn hair. I thought I recognised her when she approached me the day of the storm at the book shop two months ago, I had greeted her just like any other customer, apart from my facial expression, which was almost accusatory.

    It’s raining now, I can feel the wind howling, battering against the windows of this small otherwise peaceful cottage. I raise my head and meet her glassy celadon and sage eyes piercing into my skin, I imagine quite possibly a mirror image mimicking mine on that grey afternoon. The realisation hits me like a soothing slap, I also have central heterachromia, so does Joshua, Evelyn and Zachary, as does Mum. So did Mum.

    The wind began howling even stronger, and the rain was pouring so hard that you couldn’t see through it. We all stared at each other, not knowing how to proceed. She didn’t tell us the next step to continue with this meeting of strangers. We all stared at her, waiting.

    I could feel the draft coming from beneath the floorboards, the howls began to get louder and deeper as they were vastly approaching , the door started to shudder and I could hear the screws parting from their hinges, with every thud I could see the clay particles falling from the cracks in the teapot sat on the coffee table infront of grandma.

    I got up from my chair and looked out the window. The storm was surrounding us now and we were sitting ducks in this broken down cottage, the windows creaked and the glass slowly cracking, I looked back to see the horror in everyone’s eyes. ‘We need to barricade ourselves in and stay low, Grandma stay down here’ I pointed to a small cellar door, it wasn’t big enough for all of us but the others found different hiding places, we could now hardly hear one another. the storm was on top of us, windows bursting and glass flying through the air, I caught grandma’s eyes as she peered out of the cellar door, believing this was the last time I would see her I shouted ‘ Grandma, what was it you wanted us to know!?’ Holding on for dear life to the leg of the dining table.

    Grandma didn’t reply and the howling was now suffocating, the roof blew off with such force leaving us fully exposed and vulnerable, a loud static noise pierced our ears and everything seemed to go in slow motion, I saw my siblings heads tilt back with abruptly as if someone had a yanked them back and a bright yellow beam shot from their eyes into the night sky, terrified, I caught a final glimpse from grandma who mouthed the words ‘you only have each other’ before my head flung back and my eyes blinded by a yellow light.

    As my head was forcefully yanked back, a sharp jolt of panic shot through me, my muscles tensing involuntarily. The night air rushed past my ears, mingling with the sound of my own rapid breaths. The blinding yellow light flooded my vision, searing through my eyelids even as I squeezed them shut, leaving behind an eerie glow that danced behind my closed eyes, like a haunting afterimage.

     

    With my eyes clamped shut, I gasp for breath as my body convulses violently. A soothing warmth caresses my skin, contrasting with the chaos engulfing me, as if a gentle hand tries to comfort amidst a tempest. Amidst the swirling debris, I feel weightless, untethered from the relentless pull of gravity. My limbs twist and contort in the air, a dance of agony amidst the swirling fragments that gnaw at my flesh like voracious beasts. Each bite sends a surge of pain coursing through me, painting the scene with hues of torment.

    The last story part was submitted by emergingwriterjourney on May 7, 2024 3:40 am.

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