The violin   

The tenant, so tired, left to visit to the old man. He was going to complain. He knocked and knocked but there was no reply. He knew the old man was in there, the violin could be heard, crying out to the building.
He tried to open the door, but it was stuck. He worked it a bit more and finally the door opened. A cloud burst over the new tenant, suffocating him in darkness. The cloud fell to the ground; there was a crunch for every step the man took. On closer watch, the man noticed that it was the remains of butterflies, so many butterflies. So beautiful, they were of all colours, yet none, they were the colours out of space, impossible.
The tenant walked into the room, but found nothing, no food in the cupboards, no sign of the man, or his beloved violin. The tenant was dazed “how could that be” he thought. He decided to leave the room and go back to his apartment, believing it to be all just a bad dream.
Crunch went every step
Crunch. Crunch.
He closed the door behind him, but the moment the door locked, the violin could be heard. Bewildered, he went to open the door. It wouldn’t open again. This time the tenant peered through the keyhole to see if he could see the man. All there was, was an unfathomable darkness. As he was looking through the keyhole, he saw the colours again, but slowly the music became a hum, one hum sang by thousands, if not millions of beautiful, tiny creatures.
Then it stopped
It shot through the keyhole into the tenants head, blackness ensued as he fell into the living abyss. He woke up the next morning, no recollection of the night before. He carried on with his daily routine
Get up, eat go to work, come home eat go to sleep.
But this night was different. He slept peacefully, lulled by the music, his dreamless sleep fueled by the hum