I do specialized cleanup work for apartments where people have died, but I’ve never seen anything like this before

I’m a self-employed specialist cleaner for apartments where people have died. Usually old people. Grandparents whose families want the place emptied and cleaned so it can be sold as quickly as possible.

It never bothered me. At least not until tonight.

I had taken on too many jobs again, blinded by the extra money, so by the time I reached the last house, it was already dark.

The place stood in the middle of nowhere.

When I parked at the entrance, I had the uneasy feeling that this would not be a quick job.

The moment I stepped inside, I realized the house hadn’t been emptied yet. Everything the old man had owned was still there, exactly where he had left it. Normally, the family would have removed the furniture and personal belongings before calling me in, leaving me to do the final cleanup.

A sheet of paper rested on the desk near the entrance:

Sorry, but there were complications with the transport service. Please just clean as much as you can. The place where he died is the living room.

I frowned at the note. Why hadn’t they simply called me? Maybe they were afraid I would refuse the job if I knew beforehand.

But I was already here, and I guessed I would do my best. I had been right about one thing, though. This would not be quick.

As I moved through the house, a strange sadness slowly crept over me. Family pictures covered the walls. The old man smiling into the camera. The old man eating dinner with his family. The old man sitting in an armchair with thick glasses on, reading a book while a cat rested in his lap.

He had looked happy. And now he was gone.

The house itself was small. A living room, a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Nothing more.

The subtle stench of death hit me the moment I entered the living room.

There was a dark stain on the floor, roughly the size of a human body. This had to be where he died. The problem with elderly people living alone is that their bodies are often discovered days after death, once decomposition has already begun. Someone had clearly tried to wipe the spot clean before I arrived, but it had been pointless. Bodily fluids had soaked deep into the floorboards, and removing them properly required special chemicals.

I pulled on my mask and got to work on the stain first. Just like I always did.

The stain was stubborn, but after roughly half an hour, I finally managed to get rid of it. It took a lot of scrubbing and even more cursing.

After the long day, my back had started to ache, so I stayed sitting on the floor for a moment, letting myself rest while my eyes wandered through the living room.

A small dinnertable for two in the middle. And there, in the corner, was the armchair from the photographs.

To the right stood a bookshelf filled with old novels whose authors meant nothing to me. On the left side of the chair stood a large full-body mirror. I glanced at my reflection and saw a tired, miserable face staring back at me, silently asking why the hell I always had to be so greedy.

I could have been home by now. In bed with Laura…

I shook the thought away, pushed myself to my feet, and opened the windows to air out the chemical smell. Then I headed back outside to grab the coffee I had bought on the drive here. It was going to be a long night, and I needed the caffeine.

When I returned to the living room, I still felt completely drained.

There was an old television in the corner, and I figured having some background noise might make the work a little less miserable, so I turned it on.

Only static greeted me. I sighed and switched it off again.

The moment I placed the remote back onto the table and turned away, the television flickered back to life behind me, filling the room once more with loud static.

I cursed under my breath.

The old thing was annoying, and what I didn’t want to admit to myself was that it genuinely unsettled me, even though I was a grown man.

I turned it off again and forced myself back to work.

An hour later, I finished the bathroom. Two hours after that, the kitchen was done as well, and I returned to the living room.

The smell of chemicals had finally faded. I closed the window again, quietly humming some half-forgotten melody to myself. A loud noise suddenly echoed through the room, making me jump.

I spun around too quickly and nearly made myself dizzy. A book lay on the floor in front of the large bookshelf. It must have fallen out somehow.

But how?

I stared at it for a moment. Nothing happened. Pressing my lips together, I slowly approached it.

There was no title on the cover. No author’s name. Just black leather, worn and cracked with age.

I bent down, picked it up, and instead of putting it back immediately, I opened it.

A strange symbol filled the first page. A triangle, with smaller markings branching from each corner, almost resembling the letter T. Beneath it was a single sentence.

“Ecce donas, haas offeretus kanas, rementulum iv colum.”

I read the words aloud.

Latin, maybe? The rest of the pages were blank.

“Meow.”

I looked up from the book and froze. The black cat from the photographs sat only a few feet away, staring directly at me. So that was how the book had fallen. And I had started imagining things already. Jesus.

I slid the strange book back into the shelf, trying not to think about what kind of man the owner must have been, and turned toward the cat.

“Hey, buddy,” I muttered. “You scared the hell out of me.”

I should probably take the animal back to the family who hired me. The poor thing was likely starving, maybe abandoned after the old man died. I didn’t even want to consider that possibility for too long.

“Hey.”

I slowly knelt down and held out my hand toward the cat, trying not to scare it.

“Let’s be friends.”

“Meow.”

The cat turned around calmly, leapt forward, and disappeared straight through the mirror.

I froze.

On the other side of the glass, I could still see it walking away from me.

“What the hell,” I whispered.

Slowly, I got to my feet and approached the mirror.

The apartment on the other side looked exactly the same, except for the cat, now sitting with its back turned toward me while lazily licking its paw.

This couldn’t be real.

I reached out carefully, expecting my hand to hit cold glass. Instead, it passed straight through.

My breath caught in my throat. Before I could stop myself, I took another step forward. Then another. A second later, my entire body had crossed through the mirror.

Now I was standing on the other side as well. At first glance, the apartment seemed unchanged, but something felt wrong immediately.

Sounds drifted in from the kitchen. The clatter of plates. The soft scrape of metal against ceramic. And beneath it all lingered the unmistakable smell of freshly cooked food.

The cat slowly turned its head toward me.

My knees nearly gave out.

Its eyes were gone. Two dark, rotting holes stared back at me from beneath matted black fur. Flesh around its mouth had decayed away, exposing yellow teeth and parts of its jaw. More patches of rotten skin hung loose around its neck.

I instinctively stumbled backward toward the mirror.

This time, my back hit solid glass.

No matter how hard I pushed, it would not let me through.

“Meow.”

The sound was no longer soft or harmless. It came out low and wet, beneath the growl.

The the noises from the kitchen stopped abruptly. Silence flooded the apartment. A second later, I heard footsteps approaching fast.

An old man stepped out of the corridor, drying his hands on a kitchen towel draped loosely over his shoulder.

He smiled warmly at me, then looked down at the cat.

“Ah, Fluff,” he said gently. “You brought a friend with you.”

Then his eyes settled on me, and his smile widened just a little too much.

“I hope he didn’t bother you too much.”

“N-No,” I managed to choke out.

“Good. Gooood.”

The old man gestured toward the small dinner table.

“Come, sit down. Have dinner with me.”

I swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t stay. I still need to finish my work.”

I remained standing close to the mirror, trying to sound calm while silently praying in my head.

“Nonsense!” the old man replied cheerfully. “I haven’t had guests in such a long time. I can’t let you leave hungry.” He motioned toward the table.

“You’ve worked hard back there.” He nodded toward the mirror.

“At least let me repay you with dinner. I just finished cooking, you know. You arrived at the perfect time.”

Every instinct screamed at me to run, but the look in the old man’s eyes told me that refusing him would be a terrible mistake.

So I nodded slowly and forced myself toward the table.

The old man disappeared back into the kitchen and returned moments later carrying two plates. Rice and stir-fried vegetables steamed gently beneath the dim light. He placed the plates on the table alongside forks and knives before sitting down across from me.

“Oh, this feels wonderful,” he sighed.

He tilted his head sharply to the left.

Crack.

Then slowly to the right.

Crack.

The sound of bone grinding against bone echoed softly through the apartment.

“I really did miss having company,” he said with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” I said, clearing my throat. “I… accidentally stepped through the mirror, but it seems I can’t go back.”

“Oh, no wonder you can’t.” The old man laughed softly and unfolded a napkin across his legs.

“These young people nowadays, honestly.”

I stared at him in silence.

“You can’t go back because you left the key behind, dear.”

“The key?” I asked carefully. “Sorry, I… I don’t understand.”

“The key,” the old man repeated, sounding mildly irritated, as though I had asked something painfully obvious. “The book, dear. The key!”

I glanced down at my hands. They had started trembling slightly, and I quickly hid them beneath the table.

“So I can’t leave?” I asked. “Everything looks the same here. There has to be another book somewhere in this apartment too, right?”

The old man sighed deeply.

“No, no. The book is one of a kind, dear.”

For a moment, my stomach dropped completely.

“But of course you can leave,” he added suddenly with a smile.

Relief flooded through me so fast it almost hurt.

“Someone simply has to read the words aloud from the other side. Then the mirror opens again.”

My heartbeat hammered painfully in my chest.

“Now,” the old man said pleasantly, picking up his fork, “let’s eat.”

Then he froze.

Completely.

His fork remained suspended in the air while his eyes stared blankly ahead, unmoving.

One second passed. Then another.

I didn’t dare look away from him.

Almost a full minute went by before he suddenly resumed moving again as though nothing had happened.

Just before taking the first bite, he paused once more.

“Ohhh, forgive my terrible manners.”

He smiled warmly at me.

“My name is Rolan. And yours, friend?”

“Lars,” I answered quietly.

I had no intention of touching the food.

“So… you live here?”

“Yes, yes,” Rolan replied happily. “Well, I lived here once. And now I live here again.”

The way he said it made my skin crawl.

“You’re not eating, dear,” he observed gently. “Is something not to your liking?”

Before I could answer, panic suddenly flashed across his face.

“Oh! Forgive this foolish old man!”

He slapped his forehead dramatically and pushed himself up from the table so quickly the chair nearly tipped over.

“You see, at my age I must be careful with what I eat. My stomach isn’t what it used to be anymore.”

Then his eyes locked onto mine.

“But you…”

A wide smile spread slowly across his face.

“You’re a young man. Young men need meat.”

I watched him in frozen silence as he hurried across the room, scooped the cat into his arms, and returned to the table.

“Forgive me for being such a terrible host.”

The cat let out a sharp cry.

Crack.

The sound of its neck snapping echoed through the apartment.

Before I could react, Rolan placed the dead animal onto my plate.

Dark, rotten blood poured slowly from the cat’s mouth, running into the rice and soaking the vegetables.

The smell hit me instantly. Sweet decay so thick I nearly gagged.

“There we go,” Rolan said happily. “Eat now, dear. It’s getting cold.”

“I…”

I forced myself not to vomit.

“I’m sorry. I forgot to wash my hands after the cleaning work.”

I tried to keep my voice steady.

“Could I use your bathroom first?”

“Oh yes, make yourself at home.”

I stood up and made my way toward the bathroom, trying not to move too quickly. Trying not to run. The moment I stepped inside, I locked the door behind me. Every instinct screamed at me to get out of this place.

I hurried to the window and pushed it open. My breath caught in my throat. There was nothing outside.

Just endless darkness stretching in every direction.

My pulse hammered painfully in my ears as I grabbed the bar of soap from the sink and threw it out into the void.

I watched it fall.

And fall.

And fall.

Far longer than it should have before the darkness swallowed it completely.

There was no ground.

I stumbled backward from the window in horror. I couldn’t escape through there.

A loud knock against the bathroom door made me flinch violently.

“Everything alright, dear?” Rolan’s voice called from the other side. “Dinner is getting cold, and you really should eat.”

“I-I’m fine,” I answered quickly. “I’d just like to stay here a little longer.”

My voice trembled uncontrollably. Panic clouded my thoughts as my eyes desperately searched the bathroom for something I could use as a weapon.

There was nothing.

“Oh, but I can’t allow that.”

The warmth vanished completely from Rolan’s voice.

“Surely you know that it’s rude to leave the dinner table.”

Then came the last sentence and the voice speaking it could not possibly have belonged to a human being.

“So come out.”

I froze.

The doorknob slowly began to turn.

Metal squealed.

Then the wall beside the lock started to crumble with a dry cracking sound until the entire lock tore free from the frame.

The door swung open.

Rolan stood there calmly, staring at the debris scattered across the floor.

“Oh dear,” he sighed. “What a mess. And after you cleaned everything so nicely too. My apologies.”

Then he smiled again.

“Now, please return to the table.”

I didn’t dare argue.

As I stepped past him, terror twisted painfully in my stomach, and I instinctively quickened my pace.

He was strong.

Not human strong, something far beyond that.

I sat back down at the table, staring once more at the dead cat lying on my plate while Rolan calmly returned to his seat across from me.

“Eat.”

The patience had vanished from his voice now.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m not hungry.”

Rolan looked at me silently for a moment.

“You know,” he said softly, “when I was a boy and refused to eat what my mother placed in front of me, she would take my father’s leather belt and teach me how a I was supposed to behave.” He paused.

“Maybe we should begin with teaching you not to leave the dinner table,” Rolan said softly. “It seems you never learned that lesson either.”

His smile widened.

“It will be an easy one, dear. After all, you can’t run away from the table if you’re no longer able to stand, don’t you think?”

Panic hit me so violently that my body went numb for a second before adrenaline flooded through my veins. Without thinking, I grabbed the knife from the table and drove it straight into his left eye. The blade sank in with a wet crunch and remained lodged there.

Rolan didn’t even flinch.

I stared at him in horror, unable to breathe.

“Oh dear,” he sighed.

Calmly, he wrapped his fingers around the knife handle and pulled it free together with the eyeball still attached.

“And here I was, trying so hard not to eat meat.”

He opened his mouth and bit the eye off the blade.

Crunch.

The sound was wrong. I nearly vomited as he chewed slowly. Then instinct finally took over again.

I stumbled backward from the table and sprinted toward the mirror, desperately shouting the strange words from the book.

Nothing happened. The mirror remained solid.

“Now,” Rolan’s voice growled behind me, no longer human in the slightest, “let us begin the lesson.”

I spun around just in time to throw myself aside.

The thing that had once been Rolan slammed into the wall where I had been standing only a second earlier.

He barely even resembled a man anymore.

His flesh had turned yellow and purple with decay. One arm hung so unnaturally long that its fingertips scraped across the floor, while the other stretched across the bookshelf like the limb of some enormous insect.

I grabbed a chair and smashed it against him with all my strength.

The chair broke in pieces.

Rolan barely reacted.

I ran.

I rushed into the kitchen while heavy footsteps followed behind me at an almost casual pace. He wasn’t even hurrying. There was nowhere to hide. I bolted into the bedroom and flattened myself behind the door.

A second later, Rolan charged into the room so fast the floor shook beneath him.

He tripped and crashed onto the mattress with a snarl.

“Ahhh,” he groaned in that distorted, corpse-like voice, “young people these days. No respect for their elders.”

I sprinted back into the living room. The mirror still refused to open. Then my eyes landed on the cleaning chemicals scattered across the floor.

An idea hit me instantly. As Rolan emerged from the hallway, I snatched up the bottle and hurled the contents directly into his face.

The creature let out a scream, not pained, angry, clawing wildly at its remaining eye.

“There is no escape,” it snarled. “I can still hear you.”

But by then, the plan had already formed in my mind.

Rolan lunged toward me again. This time his claws caught my shoulder, tearing through flesh in long, burning lines before I managed to roll away.

The pain nearly made me black out. Still, I forced myself toward the entrance door.

Behind me, I could hear him charging after me. I grabbed the doorknob at the very last second and threw the door open before pressing myself flat against the wall beside it.

Rolan tried to stop, but his massive body carried him forward too fast.

Just as he reached the doorway, I slammed both hands against his back with every ounce of strength I had left. The creature stumbled out into the darkness beyond the entrance.

A furious roar echoed through the void as it fell.

And fell.

And fell.

Its screams grew quieter and quieter until the darkness swallowed them completely.

Then there was silence.

I collapsed against the wall, sobbing for breath while tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. After a long time, I forced myself back into the living room.

I don’t know how much time has passed since then. I tried everything to return home. Nothing worked.

Eventually, I realized that certain things I do on this side somehow appear on the other one as well. That is how I managed to leave this message behind.

And if you are reading this now… then somehow it worked.

Please.

I’m begging you.

I’m still trapped here.

Help me.

After thinking about it for a long time, I believe the book was never truly important. I think any large mirror might work. The words simply need to be spoken from the opposite side.

So please.

Go to your mirror. Draw the symbol I described. Speak the words aloud.

And call my name.

Please help me come home.

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