The Crittering

I remember the blackcurrant and pink peppercorn settling into the sun-drenched petals of jasmine and tuberose, but all that remains is the faded scent of driftwood. A phantom of her figure haunts our bedsheets.

If I had any guts, this room and the building it resides in would have been a pile of ash five days ago.

It still could.

Everyone would know it was me.

My neighbors have been avoiding me in the breezeway. They stopped saying ‘hi’ and started rolling their shoulders back to avoid making contact as they squeeze past me on the stairs.

The thin walls of Building 302 exposed our neighbors to the fight that ended in the death of my relationship and turned this home into a tomb. Every vile accusation stripped the colors from the walls. The chill that followed sealed the door, encasing me with her memory.

Burn it down.

I can’t do that.

Tears of sweat roll down the side of a double old-fashioned and pool onto the nightstand. I open the top drawer and reach for my pack of smokes sitting next to the 9mm that lies still, waiting for me to give it purpose. I tap the box against the heel of my palm.

Now, where is the lighter?

On the balcony, where you left her.

That’s right.

I pull out a cigarette and let it rest against my lips, unlit. The smell of dry tobacco helps, but it’s not enough to calm my thoughts.

The headboard knocks against the plaster as I shift to get out of bed. My feet find their way into slippers without guidance. I stand to open the door and step into the living room. A street lamp below the building dimly illuminates the space, and trees bending in the straight-line wind cast their shifting abstract shadows across the walls.

Misty rain blows across the balcony as I slide the glass door open. I look at the bistro table sitting between two outdoor chairs. On top, next to the ashtray is the square silver lighter.

Lightning cracks across the sky, and for a brief moment, I see her face looking up at me from the ashtray. Edges curled and shivering in the breeze.

Leave her here.

Lightning strikes again, followed immediately by pounding thunder that shakes the building.

Blue light flashes and a shower of gold sparks pours out of a nearby transformer.

The street light goes out. In fact, every light in the building, then the city, is instantly snuffed out.

Great.

I pick up the lighter, flip the top back, and quickly roll my thumb across the wheel to catch a spark and light the cigarette stuck to my top lip.

I flick it again to guide my steps back inside, where I am surrounded in darkness made worse by the cloud of smoke accumulating around me.

Get rid of the smell.

Ah yes, I almost forgot. The bedroom needs my attention.

I close the door behind me and make my way into the room. I pull back the drapes she picked out and open the blinds to let whatever light is left in the world peek through. My eyes are slowly adjusting to the deep blue of the stormy night.

Smoke rises from the stick in my mouth and collects across the ceiling.

Damn it, I need it down here!

Maybe it’s strong enough to drown out the driftwood and dead flowers she left on the pillow. Then, finally, I may get some sleep.

‘Cause God knows—

You look like shit.

Yes, thank you.

I toss the cigarettes and lighter in the nightstand drawer where they belong. The headboard knocks against the wall as I sit back down on the bed and swing my legs on to the mattress.

Knock, knock.

She’s coming.

Dull thuds from the other side of the exterior wall.

The tomb is alive tonight.

Violent nature invades the silence. Howling winds, heavy pattering rain, and the constant low rumble of thunder rolling like a Mac truck driving down an endless highway.

Scriiiiitch. Scriiiiitch.

A wet gnawing sound is burrowing into the room.

She’s chewing through the wall.

I pound my fist against the wall, and skittering claws race the length of the room before dying out in the hallway. I spin around to follow the concealed creature.

WHAM

She’s here.

The bedroom door slams shut.

I turn the knob and push through the resistance on the other side.

Stumbling forward, I survey the living area for signs of intrusion. The front door is closed and locked, the balcony doors still shut with their long vertical blinds hanging motionless in front of them.

Lightning strikes, and two green eyes flash at me from the front door. I run to meet them, but the creature darts into the kitchen and is gone.

You lost her.

It’s not her. I don’t know what that was.

She came back for you.

Stop it.

Metal scrapes and pipes clank behind the wall, followed by a heavy tumbling on the other side of the backsplash.

A row of sharp teeth appear under the stove.

I bend down for a closer look. On my hands and knees, I tilt my head toward the floor. A low moving mass takes shape in the faint blue glow of the pilot light.

HISS

Tiny claws on a small pinkish hand tear across my cheek, right eye, and nose. I stand up quickly, reach for a paper towel, then rinse the wound at the sink. The naked tail of the creature whips underneath the appliance and vanishes.

Kill her.

I don’t think I can.

Before she kills you.

Wind shrieks around the building, still shrouded in darkness. Branches and debris lash against the siding.

A screech rises from the walls and amplifies through the empty chambers.

I run to the bedroom.

Grab it.

I feel my way around the bed and fumble for the drawer of the nightstand. I pull the pack of smokes and lighter and drop them in my pocket. Then I feel for the pistol.

It’s been a while since I thought of using this on anything other than myself.

CRASH

Glass shatters in the open living area. The last remaining portrait of us lies on the floor in a broken frame, the razor edges of each shard faintly reflecting what light endures.

I scan the room with my one good eye, in time to watch the wired hair of the beast run into the kitchen.

I set the gun down on the coffee table.

What are you waiting for?!

I reach into my pocket, pull out the pack of smokes, and place a new cigarette in my mouth. Ready to light it in victory. I reclaim the gun with my dominant hand.

Get her.

I turn the corner and hear the creature’s body thump against the wall in front of me. The green of its eyes catches my gaze in the flash of lightning.

I aim and fire.

BANG

The creature scurries across the floor, scraping against the underside of the stove as it dives beneath.

GET HER.

I grip the sides of the oven and pull it forward, feet scraping the linoleum.

The creature runs through a mold-eaten hole at the base of the wall.

BANG

A loud hiss pours out.

I lean down one more time to peer into the dark hole.

You got her.

Fuck yeah.

I reach into my pocket for the lighter, raise it to the victory cigarette tucked into the corner of my smile, and flick the sparkwheel.