Ethan woke up feeling like he'd been put through a blender. His head pounded like a bass drum, and his throat felt like he'd swallowed a bucket of broken glass. He'd had rough mornings after nights out with the lads, but this was something else.

"What's the point of being hungover if you can't even remember getting drunk?" he muttered to himself. He tried to sit up, but a wave of pain washed over him, making him wonder if his head would actually fall off. "And why does it feel like someone's taken a bloody sledgehammer to my skull?"

As he stood there, his gaze fell upon a sight that left him breathless. The most breathtakingly perfect view he'd ever laid eyes on unfolded before him. The sky was a deep, rich blue, as if someone had painstakingly edited the color to perfection. The grass was an vibrant green, reminiscent of a meticulous team of gardeners tending to every blade. It was a sight unlike any he had ever seen.

The air was crisp and fresh, like a newly opened bottle of oxygen had been poured directly over him. And the birds - they were like something out of a fantastical dream. White birds soared overhead, their sweet melodies filling the air as they sang their little hearts out.

But then, the question that had been lurking in the back of his mind suddenly surfaced: what the bloody hell was he doing lying in the middle of nowhere? He tried to rack his brain, thinking back to the night before. Fragments of a movie marathon with the lads started coming back - the laughter, the arguments over which bits were the best, the pizzas they'd stuffed their faces with, and the drinks... oh, the drinks.

He remembered Getting tired, Saying goodbye to the lads, and Heading downstairs to find something to eat. And then... nothing. Just a big, fat blank. He vaguely recalled ordering a bite to eat and a bottle of beer, but after that, his memory drew a complete blank. Which wasn't exactly surprising, considering how drunk he'd gotten. But here's the thing: he lived in a bloody city, surrounded by skyscrapers and concrete. He'd only gotten drunk. So, why the hell was he lying in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but grass, sky, and silence?

As he struggled to get to his feet, a creeping sense of dread washed over him. Where the bloody hell were his legs? He looked down, expecting to see them, but... nothing. Just a faint, transparent outline that looked like someone had drawn his legs with a bloody pencil.

His heart sank like a stone as he lifted his hand to his face. It was the same - just a vague, ghostly outline that seemed to be taking the piss. Was this all that was left of him? Had he somehow managed to turn his entire body into a bloody specter?

Two things were certain: first, he was stuck in the middle of this bloody grassland with no escape in sight; second, his body was gone missing, which pretty much confirmed he was a soul now. Brilliant. Just what he had always wanted.

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"But here's the weird thing: despite being a ghostly silhouette, he could still see, hear, and smell everything around him like nothing had changed. It was as if his senses were still working overtime, even if his body had gone AWOL.

He should be freaking out, right? I mean, this was some crazy, supernatural shit. But instead, he was just... chillin' with it, like it was no big deal. He never thought he'd be the type to handle a crisis like this with such ease.

Maybe losing his body meant he'd also ditched all the crap that came with it, like pain and adrenaline? That'd explain why he was thinking so calmly He muttered to himself, testing out his new... whatever this was.

He stood up, took in the endless stretch of grassland, and felt like his whole perspective had shifted. It was like he was seeing the world for the first time. He took a few tentative steps, worried he'd be stuck in one spot like a bloody statue. But nope, he could move. He could walk, run, and jump like a bloody superhero. And fast? He meant, he was bloody flying!

I suppose it's a fair trade," he said, laughing wildly. "Giving up my body for the gift of super speed. Who needs human limitations, anyway?"

As for how he ended up as a soul in this crazy-beautiful grassland? Forget it, he'd already thrown his hands up in defeat. It was all too bloody weird, too complicated, and he was just a regular bloke, way out of his depth. Thinking about it anymore would only give him a headache, like those poor sods who spent their lives searching for Atlantis and ended up with nothing but a bunch of useless maps and a nasty sunburn.

His first instinct was to find something familiar in this vast, open space. He meant, he used to be a bloke, not a bloody ghost. He missed the comforts of civilization, so he figured his best bet was to explore this grassland and see if he could stumble upon some people or clues that could tell him where the bloody hell he was.

Honestly, he hadn't a bloody clue if he was still on Earth or not. Had he been yanked back in time or spirited away to some bloody alien world? The ancient era, maybe? The thought alone was driving him bloody mental! But, he supposed being a soul had its perks - no more worrying about getting his head kicked in or catching a bloody cold. So, if he was stuck in the past, he could just chill,  and wait for a chance to slip back into his own time.But if he was stuck on some wild alien planet... well, he was bloody well screwed, wasn't he?

 Actually, it doesn't matter where he's ended up, he told himself. When you're a soul, time, place, and reality just doesn't matter anymore. The only thing that counted now was survival, pure and simple.

"I mean, think about it - in all those fairy tales and whatnot, souls are always portrayed as fragile little things. A sunbeam, a strong gust of wind, and you're bloody well done for’.

He was standing there, lost in his own little world, when this low humming noise started building up, echoing across the bloody grassland. Next thing he knew, some bizarre creature came tearing into view, charging straight for him like a bloody freight train. 'What the...?' he started to say, but his voice got stuck in his throat as the thing slammed into him. He was bracing for impact, but... nothing. Just a weird, tingling sensation, like his soul was getting a bloody buzz from the collision