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For the last few weeks I have begun to notice that the really old toaster in the kitchen of my flat is possessed by supernatural forces. I'm being deadly serious here.
The first time I recognized something was wrong was three weeks ago around the time of my father's birthday. He lives in Canada now so I was up at around 5am to phone him after work because of the time difference. I went to make myself a coffee, treading quietly to not wake up my flatmate in the back room. Though I later learned she was not in.
I put on the kettle, it was already filled with about a litre of water which was highly unusual to start with because I did not remember filling it and I was the only one who used it. Then I go over to the toaster and put in some bread because, even though it was basically as late as one could stay awake midweek, it was always nice to have something to eat, especially as I was about to make a really long phonecall long-distance.
Then I heard this shriek. It was unlike anything I have ever heard. I tell you, I am the staunchest of atheists you can possibly find. A man of science. A man who respects empirical evidence and hard fact. But it sounded like there were tiny children inside this kettle being tortured in some awful and unholy way. It was not simply a high pitched noise, as one would expect from water boiling, but a wail. A deathly wail, screaming and piercing at my soul, if such a thing exists.
I though nothing of it at first, I was too tired to really consider it too hard, and furthermore once the toast was done I simply picked up the phone and spoke to my Dad, so I forgot it. But the next day when I was awoken by my flatmate coming in looking quite rough I offered to make her some more coffee to pick her up and there it was again! This guttural screech from the bowels of hell. Chilling and icy, enveloping the entire room and permeating it with a sense of dread. It shocked us both.
I opened the lid, looked around. Emptied the water and refilled it, placing it back and turning it on. SCRRAAAOOOWWWWWW again, something from the pits of hell, from the deepest circle of Dante's Inferno. As though a thousand women with knives in their backs were shouting out in pain. Loud and menacing, and lasting maybe 10-15 seconds before passing, eventually fading, being muffled by the bubbling water and the steam erupting from the top.
So again, we ignored it, she was basically dead on her feet and still hammered from the night before, and I had to go to work. The day passes pretty quickly, because I have an awesome job. But then I come home later and Matt, my neighbour and second member of my 'Two Man Clan' in Call of Duty 4, he was there, with my flatmate. They were both looking at me as I entered through the door with wide eyes and with faces pale as sheets. "It's happening again" she said, pointing towards the kettle.
At this point, I'm thinking why am I not laughing. This is ludicrous and absurd to a degree even I cannot fathom. A haunted kettle. Jesus Christ almighty. But she turns it on and sure enough, Lucifer himself pours aurally out of the spout, waves of pure damnation pulverizing my ears. Deafening and frightening. Lasting perhaps a longer time than before, and louder too, as loud as a TV or a cellphone alarm. Loud enough to have to shout over it. We simply backed away from the thing and went out for pizza.
This has continued now for the last 20 days. I don't know what to do. We're both too freaked out to make any coffee we're having to go down to the Starbucks in Soho just to get something to drink. When we're in the apartment we can't sleep, we're restless, worried and constantly looking over the back of the sofa at the kitchen. It's just sitting there, on my worksurface looking out at the entire apartment. I know the moment I turn it on this unholy shriek of pure agony is going to envelop the entire space, my entire life.
What should I do, what can I do. Should I just buy a new one? I think Next is having a 50% sale this week.