I entered the apartment slowly, my eyes taking in the scene to see if he was there. The only thing my gaze found was darkness thick enough to feel. I took a step forward, and then it hit me like a stench train. The smell was so strong that I had to blink repeatedly to try and shake a vision of damp walls growing mushrooms. I shook my head to clear the thought. Now that my eyes were accustomed to the low light, I could make out shapes in the shadows. A television spilled static into the air from the direction of the living room. Since the door was open and I was already halfway through the hall, I began looking for him. The creak of uneven floorboards broke the static, but then I noticed something else, something almost silent. I had to strain to make it out, but there it was. A low, guttural sound emanated from some unidentified location. The hallway stared back at me, daring me to continue. There was a door just ahead to my right.
With a twist of the knob and a gentle push, the door swung open slowly on its lone hinge and gave way to a small bathroom. The flick of a light switch revealed a round and broken mirror. It looked as though someone had sent a fist against it and the mirror hit back: there was blood inside of the impact crater. It was unmistakable, a couple of large and glossy blood stains, glistening crimson in the light of the lone bulb. How appropriate. I glanced down at the cracked sink and noticed a pair of nail scissors lying on the edge. I added them to my inventory and stepped back out into the hallway. I flipped the light switch in the corridor several times before it dawned on me that the bulb was spread all over the floor. Progressing once again into the tangible darkness, my crunching footsteps took me into the next room on the left.
The bedroom gave off the impression that no one had been there for ages, let alone slept in these sheets. Cobwebs stretched from cupboards to bedside tables, headboard to curtains, desk to windows. I caught the slightest movement in a reflect of my glasses. The source of the movement hung from a thread, dangled for a moment, and then swung back out of sight. Where there was one spider, there were usually more, and I swear I could feel all them staring into me. Mankind had definitely disappeared from this eight-legged world, and I would not be changing that. I nodded and backed out slowly. There would be nothing to be seen here.
My further advance brought me into the kitchen, or what was once a kitchen, for now it was merely the cradle of this stench. The landscape was now comprised of discarded cardboard pizza boxes, plastic containers from Japanese sushi, noodles bowls and not-so-empty crockery from which food had progressively turned into living and unknown life forms. There were more species in this former kitchen than any zoo on Earth could ever count, capture, or catalogue. It might have been a beautiful place to live, given that you were from another dimension. Most likely it would have to be a dimension without a sense of smell or one with a masochistic crush for the infinite possibilities of carbon. Then the reason for this finally crossed my mind and came out of my mouth, “I forgot... he's single."
The curtains were drawn tight enough to choke out any light that even thought about making an entrance. Should the idea occur to some rays, their entry would have to be by force, all sirens on and automatics blazing. This living room betrayed its name, as nothing seemed to be living at all anymore. The static was louder in here, and my eyes were drawn to the television set. It was hanging askew, off of the bracket, clinging desperately to some gray cables while displaying some snow. It looked as if a thunderstorm had burst all his electronic equipment from the inside out, spewing sparks and circuits out onto the floor. His console was split open like an overripe melon; one could see its ugly innards strewn about the rug. Shards of plastic littered what was left of the couch, apparently the carnage from the destruction of discs.
So much for gaming now.
My eyes gradually left this technology cemetery and came to rest on the opposite wall. There was a trail of blood which remotely resembled a skull. He had banged his head against the wall so hard I could nearly hear the sound it must have made. How dramatic, but again so perfectly appropriate. I was momentarily distracted by a faint ring tone, but the phone died almost instantly and it sounded as if it did so in agony.
I spotted a shapeless form in the corner. Here it was, the source of the unidentified sound.
I stooped down in front of him and glimpsed his face twisting like Dali’s melting watches.. He was clearly in pain and struggled to get the word out of his quivering mouth.
He was still staring vacantly at his feet, shivering in the wet remnants of his clothes. If ever someone could take on the appearance of a crumpled and shredded sheet of paper, this was it. Whatever energy he had left in him was clearly focused on attempting to utter this one word, and everything else had been surrendered to oblivion.
"Glitched. That's the word you're looking for."
He gazed up at me, gravity pulling silver tears from his eyes and dropping them onto the carpet. These would be his last sparks of life.
His was no longer a human voice; it had become a howl from some place that darkness fears. I whispered:
"No, it seriously is not. I got it. 1,000,000. Legit. Gotcha."
I dropped the scissors next to his already lifeless arm.
When I reached the front door, the guttural sounds had stopped. A smirk crept onto my face as I started sniggering.
By the time I got to the street, it had grown to a full-blown evil, yet satisfying laugh. I put my haut-de-forme back in place. "Three blood stains around the mirror. Couldn't have done better myself."
Story by Morty & The Chuck Chuck.
P.S.: Will you get the ending?
(Please don't post spoilers)