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1

I remember the first time that I woke up in the mansion. I was confused. I lay there for some time thinking. Trying to work it out. The bed sheets were clean. The room was lavishly furnished, paintings on the wall, the bed a four-poster. Very fancy. I propped myself up on aching elbows and looked out of the bay windows opposite. I saw across a beautiful lawn, past perfect trees, to the snow covered mountains lit by a bright winter sun. This place was beautiful!

But where was I? I remembered that the day before I had been snowboarding. I wasn’t good at it. I had done it once before and that first time I had picked it up quickly. This time, though, I had been off balance. Constantly falling and getting back up. Uncharacteristically angry at gravity and at myself for succumbing to it. Was that, somehow, why I was here? It explained why my body ached, at least. I was exhausted. Why was I here?

Something else wasn’t right, too. There was a feeling, like I was sick. Not sick in my stomach but sick in every cell of my body. Poisoned. I had never been poisoned, I didn’t know what that would feel like, but that was the word that came to mind.

I struggled up and nosed about the room. Walking through a door I found a bathroom and I showered. The heat of the water soothed my muscles but still something was off. I was drained. I stayed in the shower for an age and eventually had to force myself to get out.

Afterwards, I explored. I strode through the halls, opening doors as I went. I found endless, beautiful rooms with tall ceilings. A library filled with books. A room of recorded music and another filled with musical instruments. One filled with food from all corners of the world. Another with computers and gaming consoles. An art gallery. An indoor climbing wall. It was like a dream. I found a door to the outside and walked through the garden, my breath condensing in the air. This wasn’t unpleasant but as I walked I was looking for a way out. There were tall walls around the garden. The path lead to a gate behind which was a road but the gate was chained shut.

I returned to the house. I read books in the library and played the drums. I climbed the climbing wall. I ate so much food.

Eventually I slept and when I woke up I was back in my regular life.

2

It was some months before I next awoke in the mansion. I hadn’t thought about it since the last time. I figured it was a one-off thing. An aberration. A dream. And yet here I was.

What had I been doing? I tried to think back. Not throwing myself down a hill on a snowboard like last time. I didn’t feel as broken now, though I still had that unsettling feeling, like every muscle was struggling. My legs were tired. That was it! I had been for a long bike ride. Was that what brings me here, I wondered? I do too much exercise and then I end up this place? That didn’t seem right.

I got up and walked along the corridor. The mansion was still a magnificent place.

It was summer now. Birds sang. The sun flowed in through the windows and piled up against the opposite wall. I found the room with all the tech and played video games. I got bored and went and ate sushi.

I walked into the garden and strolled down the tree-lined paths, brushing my hand against the leaves. I sat on a bench and watched a squirrel bounce across the grass.

As I sat, I thought and grew slowly restless. My mind, though distracted by the wonders around me, kept going back to the same question: what was this place? It was enjoying my time here but something was wrong. My mind was fuzzy when I was here. I got up and walked, still deep in thought, trying to puzzle it out.

I arrived at the gate. It was still locked. I shook it, rattled it against its lock. I kicked it, hard. I shouted “I don’t want to be here!” “I want to go home!” Things like that. It was futile.

I gave the gate once last kick and returned to the house. I tried to find the room with the climbing wall but it wasn’t there. I was sure I was looking in the right place but the door was gone. And the doors to the rooms on either side were closer than before. That was strange.

The uneasy feeling inside me grew. This wasn’t right.

I went and ate a pizza. Pepperoni with nduja and hot honey and a Negroni. At least the food was good here.

3

The next time was later that summer, maybe early autumn. What had I been doing this time? I tried to think back. No feats of athleticism. Just going work. Walking each way, trying to stay healthy. Nothing that should leave me feeling this way. My skin felt delicate. My watch left a red mark where the strap rubbed. My throat felt raw and tight, as if from spring allergies.

This time the front door wouldn’t open. I looked for another way out but couldn’t find one. I could still hear the birds outside but now the sound just annoyed me. Flaunting their freedom, the fluffy bastards.

I went and listened to some music nice and loud. I ate a pork ramen and mushroom karaage and drank an old fashioned. I was tired. I went to bed.

4

The next visit I was very confused. Muddled. Fuzzy-headed. More so than before. I had a headache. Not a hangover, surely? Not from one drink. I wondered if I should stop drinking. Was that why I was here? Surely that’s not it, I thought, I barely have one a week.

I walked through the corridors. I had to walk slower than usual. I felt dizzy if I took a corner too quick.

I found a computer and tried to find some information about the mansion. There were several reports but they were so contradictory that I couldn’t work out what was true. Some people said the mansion doesn’t exist. I looked around the room that I was in. I kicked the wall. It seemed pretty real.

The sun was lower than before but still shone brightly. Too brightly, really. I lower the blind.

I tried listening to the same loud music again but it didn’t feel as good. I put on something quiet instead and read a book. Eventually I fell asleep.

5

Barely a fortnight later I returned to the mansion. It felt familiar now that I’d been there a few times but it had changed again. Maybe “mansion” wasn’t the right word now. The room with the musical instruments had gone. What had been a huge selection of food had shrunk, too. Still good but no longer the—what was the word?—plethora that had been there before. It felt like the rooms were smaller, too. Or was that just my imagination? Was this all my imagination?

I stood by a window trying to look at the view but my mind could only take in a small bit at a time. I couldn’t see the whole view. I focused on the garden. It would be nice to go for a walk outside. To be amongst the trees. Or to go climbing. I walked down the corridor slowly. I was still getting dizzy if I moved too fast. I sat down at the computer and tried to play a game but it just gave me motion sickness.

I ate some food and went to bed early. Perhaps a good night’s rest would help.

I woke again in the mansion. The bed was no longer a four-poster. I looked at the window. It was smaller than before, too. That was probably for the best though. The sun hurt my eyes. The birds were too loud as well. I shut the blinds completely.

I got some food and brought it back to bed. This sucks, I thought to myself.

6

A week later I was back in the mansion. In the time in between I had barely done anything.

When I woke there I was even more exhausted than before. I was discovering types of tiredness that were new to me. I left the blinds shut and read by the light of one dim lamp. I slept.

When I woke I was still there. I stumbled into the corridor and stared in shock. What had been a tall palatial corridor now contained just two plain doors — one to the kitchen and another to the bathroom — and a flickering, buzzing fluorescent light overhead that was harsh to look at. No office, no games room. Even the library was gone. I opened the blinds, squinting against sun that was blinding despite it being overcast. There were bars on the windows. I shook my head to try to clear it and instantly regretted it. My head swam.

I lay down in bed again. I shut my eyes and meditated. Eventually I slept.

I awoke still in the same bed.

7

I awoke in the house again.

And again.

I couldn’t remember how long I had been there. My “normal” life felt like a distant memory. I roamed the rooms looking for a way out.

Eventually I gave up and sat on the bed. I wondered if somebody would find me.

THE END

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This is a story about ME/CFS. Find out more

Written by Jake Gully in spring 2026.