THE HOUSE

It was close to midnight when I pulled into Glore's drive. He had rented a ranch home at the end of a cul-de-sac. White. plain and undistinguished. The lights were out in the other homes, save one where a dull glow shone through drawn curtains on the first floor.
A mailbox stood at the end of the drive. I checked that first. Opening the flap I pulled out a small stack of sales flyers. Even aliens get junk mail.
Obviously, he had not picked this stuff up for a day or two.
I went up the drive and a short walkway that led to the front door. I expected an exercise in futility, but tried the buzzer anyways. From inside I could hear a chime. No response. I tried one more time with the same result.
I began next to circle the house, glancing into the windows as I went. The interior was completely dark and nothing of note seemed discernable.
Around some bushes and to the back. I noted now that the this cul-de-sac ended next to a parkland area. A small rear yard, maybe fifteen feet deep, ended in brush and bushes that soon expanded to a light woods. Nothing was visible in the moonlight in that expanse.
I returned my attention to the house. There was a sliding glass door, closed, leading into darkened depths of the interior. A dark curtain was drawn, preventing any attempt to make out the interior.
With a light touch I tried the door. Silently and with ease it began to slide open. I pulled a little more, expanding that crack into a viable entryway. I stepped though the portal, parted the curtain, and fumbled along the wall next to the door. I found a light switch and engaged it. Light flowed from track fixtures embedded in two rows that were embedded in the ceiling along opposite walls.
I was facing to the right. I was clearly in a living area. A red couch, 2 matching chairs, A television,a wall hung plasma (Blurbos are not noted for their frugality) , and some endtables, highlighted the decor. I turned to take in the rest of the room. Three stairs led into the depths of the home's interiior. Along the left wall was a desk and chair.
Glore was seated in the chair. And spread on the carpeting and across the desk and splattered across the wall. Green gore was everywhere.
Something had torn the Blurbo to shreds.
I pushed down the sickeniing feeling rising from my stomach. I stepped forward for a reluctant closer look. Glore's syntheskin had been shred in a dozen places, his true self underneath raked into a gooey mass. The tears were in rows of four and five, like giant claws had grabbed him and sundered him mercilessly. An animal, I wondered? There was no sign of his having been bitten or eaten.
The thought occurred to me that an animal would not know to turn off a light switch or close the door behind itself.
This was not at all good.
Worse followed.
"You're friend wasn't human," came a voice from thr entryway. " I don't think you are, either..."