LJ Idol Week 13
She should have listened to her grandmother.
Her whole life had been spent defying the old traditions, scoffing at the superstitions, and ignoring the warnings from her elders. She wasn’t disrespectful about it. In fact, she humored Grandmother when she was with her and did what she wanted when she wasn’t.
It was all coming back at her now. Karma really was a bitch.
It was hot though. And the slumlord of a landlord that she paid exorbitant rent to for her one-bedroom walk-up on the fourth floor wouldn’t fix the small window air conditioner in the bedroom window. He claimed it wasn’t broken. The occasional puff of smoke and more often frozen condensation said otherwise, but he claimed that if it was freezing, it must be working and Catherine was just running it too long and too often.
She had purchased the fan at a small bodega down the block. It was cheap. She had been complaining about the heat to Jerry one afternoon while picking up some fruit, and a candy bar, and he had offered it to her. He had just bought a new one for the small space and gave it to her for a few extra bucks. “It works,” he told her. “Just needs some TLC every once in a while.”
She took it without question. It did work. Of course, it also made that groaning sound every once in a while, but at least it didn’t smoke like the air conditioner. If she turned it off for a minute, the noise was gone and it was back to providing a bit of air movement to help cool the apartment. Plus, it was portable so she could move it from room to room. All three of them, because yes, she did take it into the bathroom so she would actually stay dry after her shower.
It was so hot that evening when she was getting ready for bed. Even the moving air felt tepid and still, cloying. She sprayed her sheets lightly with a bottle of water cooled in the refrigerator, an old trick Grandmother had shared that held some merit. Opening the window would only allow more heat in and she left it closed. Sleep did not come easily, and the last glimpse of her phone said 12:19.
She awoke in the darkness from a hot, restless, short sleep, to gnats flying around her head. Small, black, flitting, dive bombing her face. She hoped they were gnats. Did bedbugs fly? Her slumlord probably wouldn’t take care of that either.
It took her a moment to realize the black flecks flying toward her face weren’t buzzing, or really flying. The were targeting. Raising her had to her face, she swiped at them and looked. As her eyes further adjusted to the darkness, she noticed how they clung to her hand as she moved it in front of her. She turned her hand backward and forward, fascinated with the way the small, black particles - for she now realized they were particles, not bugs - attached to her skin, almost like iron flakes in those old boards with the magnetized pens that clung to the tip of the stylus as you moved it around to create a beard or hair on the drawn face. This was freaky. Until…
The face took her by surprise. Shock was more like it. It manifested out of nowhere. Actually, it seemed like it sprung from the blades of the fan. Loosely formed at first, it slowly took terrifying shape. Big, black, menacing, with horns, sharp teeth, a long tongue, and a wickedly twisted, knowing grin. Then its mouth opened wider and the groan she had attributed to the old fan’s motor sounded; loud, eerie, and with a dread heretofore unknown. She knew. At that moment, she knew her grandmother had been right. It was her last thought as the black flecks that had so fascinated her moments ago began to invade her nose and mouth, clogging her throat, stealing her air, paralyzing her. And the sound…
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“Looks like asphyxiation,” the Lieutenant turned to his partner, writing a note in the small pad he carried to crime scenes. “Landlord called it in. Said there was a lot of light flickering in here when he came by this morning to repair the air conditioner.”
“No signs of forced entry,” his partner confirmed. “Odd for such a young girl. She’s what - 22 or 23? Wonder if she had asthma or something.”
“The autopsy will figure it out. Process the scene as usual. We’d better inform the family.”