Short story oneshots

Fading

"it's been months. mark has a wife and kids now, the channel left up as a monument to what he's done, but the man himself has moved on. the others faded, one by one, accepting that their time in the light was over. all but wilford. he lives in the remains of ego inc, stalking through empty halls, practically faded himself. kept alive by the occasional memory, by his mustache. living hurts. he keeps to his own floor, the others to painful to think about. mark doesn't visit. no one remembers." - An anonymous ask on Tumblr from reverseblackholeworld's blog.

     Wilford stalked the empty halls, a major part of his new routine. Some days he tried to be glad that he was still remembered, that meant people still liked them. But other days it was torture, he was almost completely transparent as he clung to his baneful existence without choice. As he walked up and down the empty halls and past the rooms he would look inside, cracked screens and wires from the Google's old room, broken pots and dirt were all that remained of Bim's plants, and the others rooms were just as bad. As Wilford stalked through the hall he would sometimes hear the voices of his friends, and might even be able to pretend that they were alive and Ego Inc was normal. But at the end of the day, Wilford's outfit remained the dirty and ragged mess it had become, and the halls empty. Wilford would walk through his own studio some days, broken lights hung down on wires, torn chairs lay strewn about, an 'On Air' sign hung off the wall, and some days an audience's laughter could be heard echoing through the halls. And there sat Ego Inc, broken and in disrepair, but forgotten except for one Ego, Wilford Warfstache.