The world had become a graveyard of silence, broken only by the ragged breathing of those still desperate enough to live. It had been exactly one year since the mirror shattered in that basement, releasing the black gas that twisted reality into a nightmare. The gruesome beings that were once human now occupied every corner of the Earth, forcing the remnants of humanity to rot in the shadows of their own homes.The silence of the dead world was a heavy, physical thing that pressed against Ethan's eardrums as he sat on the edge of a mattress that had long ago lost its spring. It had been exactly one year since the mirror shattered in that basement, releasing the black gas that twisted reality into a nightmare. Now, the gruesome beings that were once human and animal occupied every corner of the Earth, forcing the remnants of humanity to rot in the shadows of their own homes.Ethan, an eighteen-year-old boy, bolted upright in his bed, his skin slick with a cold, terrified sweat. He had been dreaming of the beginning—the day the sky changed and the screaming started. In his mind, he could still see the first transformations, the way the gas turned friends into monsters that pounced without mercy. That was a year ago. Now, half the population was gone. The infrastructure of civilization had vanished; electricity was a memory, and gadgets were useless husks, their circuits altered by the very atmosphere that had killed the world. Countries were destroyed, leaving behind a lawless void where crime flourished. Without society to judge, the survivors became as predatory as the monsters. Murder, rape, and theft were the new constants. Ethan gripped his head, trying to shake the echoes of the world that used to be.Bathing had become a forgotten ritual, a luxury of the old era; water and food were now scarcer than hope. Ethan sat on his grimy mattress, his body thin and his skin coated in a layer of gray dust that felt like a second skin. He conducted a grim inventory of his remaining lifeblood. Aside from a few scraps of dry packaging, he had only two cans of soft drinks left. He had scavenged these weeks ago when he finally worked up the nerve to break into his neighbor's apartment. The man who lived there had not returned for almost two months, likely meeting a gruesome end that left his door ripe for the picking.Ethan crawled toward the window, moving with the practiced silence of a ghost. He peeled back a sliver of the heavy boarding just enough to peep through. His eyes scanned the cracked asphalt of the road, searching for the distorted silhouettes of the beings that had occupied the Earth since the day the mirror shattered and the black gas leaked. Satisfied the immediate path was clear, he gripped his rusted tool and slipped out into the lawless silence.The day became a marathon of disappointment. Ethan moved from building to building, knocking softly on doors. If no one answered, he would barge in, his heart hammering against his ribs as he scavenged through kitchens and closets. He found nothing. No stale crackers, no stagnant water, only the hollow echoes of a dead society where half the population had already been erased. Every room he entered smelled of mildew and old secrets. He checked under floorboards and behind collapsed drywall, hoping for a hidden stash that a previous scavenger might have missed. He found a child's toy, a silver locket, and a stack of useless paper money, but nothing that could fill the void in his stomach.As the sun began to dip, casting long, bruised shadows over the ruins, Ethan turned back toward his shelter, his stomach cramping with hunger. The descent of night was always the most dangerous time, when the abominations became more active. The silence was shattered without warning. From the ruins of a collapsed storefront, a gruesome being—an abomination that had once been a common wolf—launched a surprise attack. It didn't growl; it moved like a blur of twisted flesh and shadow, its body warped by the gas that had begun to twist everything it touched a year ago. The creature lunged from nowhere, its jaws snapping inches from Ethan's throat as the reality of the apocalypse finally caught up to him in the fading light.Ethan barely had time to raise his arm as the beast slammed into him, its weight heavy with the density of something no longer entirely biological. The wolf's eyes were milky and clouded, yet they possessed a predatory focus that suggested it could see into his very soul. Its fur was matted with the same black residue that had leaked from the mirror, and its claws were elongated, scraping against the concrete with a sound like metal on bone. Ethan struggled to keep the snapping jaws away from his face, his boots skidding on the grit of the road.He realized then that the search for food had led him too far from safety. The neighbor who hadn't returned for two months probably died right here, or in a place just like it. Ethan's fingers fumbled for the rusted machete at his belt, but the wolf was relentless, pinning him down with a strength that defied its size. Every breath he took was filled with the metallic scent of the black gas and the rot of the creature above him. This was the end of the world not just in the history books, but in this very moment on this very street.The struggle between Ethan and the abomination was not a battle of heroes; it was a desperate, ugly scramble for breath in a world that had long since stopped valuing human life. When the wolf-like creature slammed into him, the force was like being hit by a runaway vehicle. Ethan's back hit the cracked pavement with a sickening thud, the air driven from his lungs in a sharp, silent gasp. Above him, the creature was a nightmare of biological distortion. Its ribs protruded through skin that looked like wet parchment, and the black gas—the same substance that had leaked from the shattered mirror a year ago —seemed to pulse beneath its veins like liquid shadows.The abomination's jaws snapped inches from Ethan's throat. Its breath carried the stench of old blood and that metallic, ozone tang of the atmospheric shift. Ethan jammed his forearm against the creature's throat, his thin muscles screaming under the pressure. This was the reality of the year since the end: a world where half the population was gone and the survivors were nothing more than prey waiting for the predator's timing. His mind flashed to his meager supplies—the two soft drinks he had scavenged from a neighbor who had been missing for two months—and the realization that if he died here, he would just be another nameless casualty of a dead society.The wolf's claws, elongated and jagged, tore through Ethan's tattered jacket, raking lines of fire across his chest. He cried out, the sound muffled by the creature's weight. Adrenaline, sharp and bitter, flooded his system. He reached for the rusted machete at his hip, but the creature pinned his arm down with a paw that felt unnaturally heavy, as if its bones had been reinforced by the very gas that had destroyed civilization. The creature's eyes were milky white, devoid of pupils, reflecting nothing but the dying light of a world without electricity.Ethan thrashed, his boots scraping frantically against the grit of the road. He managed to wedge a knee between his chest and the beast's underbelly, shoving upward with every ounce of strength he possessed. The abomination was thrown off balance for a split second, its head snapping back as Ethan delivered a frantic, clumsy blow with his free fist. The impact felt like hitting a bag of wet stones. It didn't stop the creature, but it bought him the inch of space he needed.He rolled to his left, his hand finally closing around the handle of his machete. The metal was cold and pitted with rust, a relic of a time when tools were for building, not for surviving the end of the world. As the wolf lunged again, Ethan didn't try to stand. He swung the blade in a horizontal arc, feeling the vibration travel up his arm as the edge bit into the creature's shoulder. It wasn't a deep wound, but a thick, tar-like substance—the corrupted blood of the transformed—leaked from the gash.The beast let out a sound that was less of a howl and more of a mechanical screech, a byproduct of vocal cords warped by the environment. It recoiled, its front leg buckling slightly. Ethan scrambled to his feet, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gulps. He knew he couldn't win a prolonged fight; his body was weakened by months of scarcity, his muscles thinned by a diet of scavenged scraps and sugary drinks. He had to find a gap.The wolf circled him, its movements jerky and erratic, typical of the abominations that had occupied the Earth. It moved with a twitchy, unnatural speed, its shadow stretching long and jagged under the bruised purple of the twilight sky. Ethan held the machete with both hands, his knuckles white. He watched the creature's shoulders, waiting for the telltale bunching of muscle that preceded a leap.When it came, Ethan didn't move backward. He stepped into the creature's path, dropping low. As the wolf soared over him, he drove the rusted blade upward, aiming for the soft tissue of the underbelly. He felt a resistance, then a sickening slide as the metal tore through. A spray of the black, viscous fluid drenched his face and arms, stinging his eyes and smelling of rot.The creature crashed into a pile of rusted debris near a collapsed storefront, yelping in that strange, distorted frequency. It struggled to rise, its entrails—gray and pulsating—spilling onto the cracked asphalt. Ethan didn't wait to see if it would get back up. He turned and ran, his lungs burning as he pushed his malnourished body to its absolute limit. He didn't look back at the ruined streets or the silent buildings where other gruesome beings might be lurking in the shadows. He ran until the taste of copper filled his mouth and his heart felt like it would burst through his ribs, finally reaching the safety of his boarded-up sanctuary, leaving the dying abomination behind in the darkening ruins of the world.
