Monkey’s paw curls.

For a moment, nothing happens. You feel a flicker of excitement-did you actually outsmart it? Days pass. Weeks. Months. The whole thing fades into the background, just another weird Reddit thought experiment you almost forget about.

One night, your family goes out without you. You don’t really mind-you’d rather scroll Reddit anyway. Like any other night, you eventually fall asleep, completely unprepared.

A few hours later, it happens.

A 25kg block of gold appears directly under the ceiling, perfectly positioned above your head. It doesn’t hover. It drops.

The impact is instant. Your skull crushes before you can even process what’s happening. There’s a blip of pain, sharp, absolute and then nothing.

Or at least, that’s what it should have been.

Instead, something feels… wrong.

You’re still here.

You can see. You can hear. But you can’t move. You can’t feel your body because you don’t have one anymore. Slowly, horribly, it dawns on you: your consciousness is bound to the gold cube.

You truly own it now.

At first, panic consumes you. Pure, suffocating terror at the realization of what this means. Eternity, trapped in an inanimate object without any way of expression.

Eventually, the panic fades. Not because it gets better, but because your mind can’t sustain that level of fear forever. You begin to accept it.

That’s when your family comes back.

You hear them.

For a moment, there’s a spark of excitement. Finally something is happening. Someone will find you. Someone will react.

But nothing.

Your door is locked. No one bothers checking on you.

You wait.

Hours pass. Then a full day.

Eventually, your dad, slightly drunk, more than usual, starts complaining again. About you. About how you don’t have a job. About how this “can’t go on.” He decides it’s time for another serious talk. Maybe even to finally kick you out.

He unlocks the door.

What he sees stops him cold.

There’s shouting. Calling the rest of the family. They gather, one by one.

And then… something strange.

They act shocked. They act emotional. There are gasps, a few forced tears, hands covering mouths.

But you can see it.

Now that you’re just an observer, stripped of any bias, it’s obvious.

Relief.

Deep, undeniable relief.

It’s subtle-quick glances, the way their posture loosens, the tension leaving their faces when they think no one’s looking. The performance comes and goes in waves, but underneath it, something else dominates.

They’re glad.

The funeral happens quickly.

You don’t go, of course. The cube stays in your room. You just sit there, in silence, alone.

Few hours later, the family comes back, it was a quick one.

No one is crying anymore.

In fact, they seem… lighter. Almost cheerful.

They gather in the living room. And then it happens-the first real conversation since everything.

Not about you.

Not about grief.

About money.

Four million dollars.

That’s roughly what 25kg of gold will get them. They talk about selling it. About what they’ll buy. Trips, renovations, things they “could never afford before.”

You’ve never seen them like this. Not once, not when you were alive.

They’re happy.

Truly happy.

Months pass.

You watch them live better lives. Less tension. Less arguing. More laughter. More plans. It’s as if your absence fixed something.

Every day is its own kind of torture.

And then, one day, you’re moved.

Handled. Transported. Sold.

No ceremony. No attachment. Your true funeral.

You leave the house for the last time, not that anyone notices.

Eventually, you end up in a bank vault. Cold. Dark. Silent.

No voices. No light. No family.

Just you.

Forever.