The laptop on the desk was showing the video of a popular game, Ark: Survival Evolve's Gameplay, as the host said, "Today we will see if we can get ourselves an Angelic Griffin. I have my Angelic T-Rex here with which we..."
Mark, wearing spectacles that had slid slightly down his nose, leaned closer to the screen. His eyes were focused, scanning every corner of the virtual world, his lips twitching at the host's occasional jokes and the ridiculous situations he found himself in.
A laugh escaped Mark every now and then, short but genuine, a rare sound in the silence of the house.
At eighteen, Mark's life had come crashing down. Two months earlier, a car accident had taken both of his parents, leaving him alone in the world. Their inheritance was modest—just a two-story house and a few thousand dollars in the bank. It was enough to keep him afloat, for now.
Beyond that, there was nothing. No relatives, no friends, no one who knew him well enough to offer a shoulder or even a word of comfort.
School had become irrelevant. For the past two months, Mark had not stepped foot outside except for necessities he avoided as much as possible. DoorDash deliveries were now the lifeline to the outside world. Even the thought of human interaction made his chest tighten.
Childhood trauma had left him wary of approaching others; loneliness had hardened into a barrier he felt incapable of breaking.
The ARK gameplay, however, was different. The voice of the host was soothing, lively, and just distant enough to feel like companionship without the pressure of real interaction.
Mark wasn't particularly drawn to the host in any romantic way—he didn't think about those things anymore—but the voice, the humor, the tiny victories and failures in the game… it reminded him of life, of motion, of connection, even if only through a screen.
For a few hours, he could forget. The empty rooms, the weight of silence, the relentless ache of grief—all of it faded into the background. In its place was excitement, curiosity, laughter.
But today seemed to be not a good day for him.
The house suddenly shook. At first, Mark didn't feel much; everything appeared normal.
Then his laptop wobbled on the desk, the table creaked, and finally, the chair beneath him began to tremble. Panic pricked at the edges of his mind as he rose, only for the violent shaking of the floor to knock him back down.
"What… what's happening?" he stammered, his voice trembling. The shaking grew stronger, relentless, and a word escaped his lips almost instinctively: "Earthquake."
Realization hit him like a punch to the chest. Struggling to his feet, he wobbled as the house seemed to rise and fall like waves under his feet. Every step was a battle against the unstable floor. He knew he had to get out.
He snatched his smartphone from the desk, teetering dangerously close to the edge, and grabbed his laptop with the other hand—the video still playing as he slammed it shut. Clutching both devices, he staggered toward the door.
He tumbled against the wall by the door, pressing his back against it for support. Slowly, carefully, he edged toward the door, each step a struggle against the violently shaking floor.
Finally reaching the doorway, he got out but still kept his back pressed to the wall and moved down the hallway toward the stairs.
Then came a sharp, unmistakable crack—the sound of something breaking. Mark's eyes darted upward, scanning, but he saw nothing yet knew instinctively that something had given way.
Panic sharpened his pace. He couldn't afford to hesitate; the thought of being buried alive pressed at his chest.
He reached the stairs. Carefully, he began his descent, one cautious step at a time. He could already see the entrance to the house below, a sliver of hope in the chaos. But the floor trembled more violently now, the entire staircase shivering beneath him.
And then it happened. His foot slipped on a stair that had dropped suddenly, and balance abandoned him. He toppled backward, clutching the laptop and smartphone to his chest in a desperate attempt to protect them.
The fall was brutal. The back of his head slammed against the edge of a step. Darkness surged. Consciousness abandoned him before he could reach the bottom.
The earthquake continued its unrelenting assault. Walls groaned, beams cracked, and the roof buckled. Mark lay unconscious at the foot of the stairs, utterly at the mercy of the house.
But, unfortunately, the house could bear no more. It crumbled in on itself, debris raining down. Mark never regained awareness. The world went silent for him, buried beneath the ruin of the house he had once called home.
***
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