Reunited With an old Nemesis
I thought it a chapter in my life long behind me. The noise alone is the stuff of nightmares after all these years. And now it is no longer a nightmare but in my home.
It started innocently enough, while in conversation with my grandmother it came up that my vacuum cleaner had died and so it began.
My mother heard of this so she called my wife and offered to give us her old vacuum cleaner, and now it is in my house.
Now I do understand how a dull anecdote about a 2nd hand vacuum seems far from “Eldritch Horror” but that inanimate object & I have a history. My mother bought it over 20 years ago…holy shit I’m old but that’s not the case here. It’s not so much a vacuum but a jet engine with a short cable, a jerky motor and a bad temper.
It is loud. It is really loud. It is really fucking loud. It is really fucking loud in all the frequencies that make the hair on the back of my neck kill themselves in the most painful & creative ways possible.
The sound of this machine is the sound of realizing that there is no god and after death is only oblivion, and in the midst of that existential breakdown you get a swift punch in the nuts.
If that experience had a sound–that vacuum possesses it…
As you might imagine it permanently made me adverse to vacuums in general, but I grew up, moved on and gradually blocked out all memory of the dread device…and now it’s here, laughing at me from the corner of my living room.
Now I do appreciate my mother’s sincere generosity, for despite the fact that the vacuum is a vessel of evil it is a quality machine with good cleaning power. I will give my old enemy that respect as it is fairly due. My mother also being a fairly reasonable human being thinks me a touch melodramatic with my various battles of will with inanimate objects…But mark my words, that machine is evil, and the back left burner on my electric range is getting kinda uppity lately.