It was only a week since he went out of his filthy room. He only knew stuff to be recognised commonly. Failing his family, living after war… they are the traumas. Trying not to fix a suicidal plan for the next generation.
He, sitting on the dirty rag, looking out his window, wondering if he could find somewhat, of a friend. A lot to choose from. Maybe even a friendly bacteria. But he lived alone…
Last week, he got to talk to a cashier by the store nearby, thinking it was a chance for a friend. Sadly, not was achieved. For us a cashier is nothing. For him however, it’s something.
He sat, looking at his reflection. No wait, it wasn’t a reflection. A dark silhouette, hanged in his own room. It hanged by the throat on a rope. He noticed it for a second, in a blink, in a flash. He was fueled with shiver. He got out of the house on that bright sunny noon. Kids stared at him tearing up while sprinting. A few thoughts jumped upon his sprint. He wanted to ask the figure to be his friend. He realised it was too late.
He sat by a tree. His eyes were nestled with tears and sweat. He twitched, unnerved, and eventually fainted. As he opened his eyes, everything was dim. He apparently died. He teleported to another dimension, where it was a blanket of white, white and birth scheme of light everywhere. There was nothing. Just white.
He heard a voice saying, “Alfronzo.” He replied saying, “Alone.” As part of this story, we shall never know what that bloody word, “Alfronzo,” meant. Before he replied, “Alone,” there was a sceneric, angel humming ambience. Ask he said, “Alone,” the music stopped and so his body was starting to tremble. His eyes all gored, his head twitched and turned, twisting in an uncontrollable manner. Blood spread everywhere. His arms and legs ripped apart, his eyes tore and popped out, who key turning black. His spine and ribcage opened and his head just floating there, in the gust of blood. He was left alone for a few seconds.
He was later brought to a building, where he found himself in a proceeding walk. He stopped walking. The building was like a giant box. The ceiling was a kilometer off the flat ground and the interior was humongous. There was one room, one floor. The walls had windows on them. The ground was covered with thick and woolen carpet. The fluorescent lights blinked and made buzzing noises. It was day time in that dimension. Not to mention, the dimension would stay day for 4.8 billion years, and come back to being night after another 4.8 billion years and in a loop. A second would last years and years. You could feel the cold air from the conditioners that were fixed in that building. It has all those “Back Rooms” vibes.
As he looked out the window, it was flat, flat, flat and flat grey concrete (ground) everywhere. Not a mountain, a plateau or a hill was present. The flatness went forever and ever and ever. Think of it as a Minecraft flat world, that had a building in the middle of actual nowhere. He stayed there, hoping to eventually starve to death as he could not find anything to use to kill himself. He could find nothing there. It was a giant room (building). He sat by the corner of that huge building.
He ‘stays’ there. Approximately 1,048 years have past, using Earth’s time.
Legends say, Karl is still sitting there, waiting and waiting to die…
