The Black Kettle

Based on a true story.

After 5 weeks, 21 viewings, and 114 enquiries, I moved into 66 Chestnut Grove, Rathmines, Dublin. The landlord used many B's in his summation of the property. Big, beautiful, breathtaking, and bungalow. What he really meant was basic, bland, and bereft of insulation. I didn't care. I hadn't been this desperate since trying to find a date for my Debs, which was approx 2 weeks ago. Finally, I had a bed to myself. Well, bunk bed. I spoke briefly to my new bunkmate, Claudio, before it was lights out by 9pm. Too many sleepless nights on a mate's sofa would do that to a man. The following evening, we got to know each other better over his signature spaghetti bolognese. He was a gent. Extremely Italian. Sounded like he was putting on the accent and was really from Drogheda. After dinner, I treated him to an Irish delicacy - Barry's Tea.

When we got to our room, there was a girl putting a duvet on the bunk bed across from ours. Claudio looked as clueless as I felt. She jumped when she saw us. Her name was Ciara, and she hailed from Waterford. We obviously mustn't have heard her arrive. I asked if she fancied a drink in the pub across the road but she was shattered, which I understood completely. The three of us decided to go out the following night. The perfect icebreaker - it was good craic albeit messy. I can't even remember getting home. First port of call when I woke up was a cup of tea. I was so hungover the whistle from the kettle made my head pound. I was halfway through my cup when I felt the urge to vomit. Up to the bathroom I went. Sitting by the toilet bowl, I suddenly heard heavy grunting from the bedroom. Was that Ciara and Claudio? Seemed unlikely. I was almost certain they had both gone to college. And Claudio said he was gay.

The grunting persisted. I walked in to find a bulky fella lifting weights on a flat bench beside my bed. He introduced himself as Chris from Cork. Newest addition to 66 Chestnut Grove. I should have asked more questions but the hangover had robbed me of my strength. Plus the smell of sweat was making me even more nauseous.

That weekend I went down to the country to see family. When I got back on Sunday evening, the house was empty. At least I thought it was. After a very satisfactory cup of tea, I decided to have another. The kettle whistled softly in the silence of the room. Bliss. While I fiddled with the string of the teabag which had slithered to the bottom of the cup, I heard a thump upstairs and looked at the ceiling. Odd. I went to investigate, bringing a hurl just in case.

My fingers twitched, wrapped tight around the hurl. Opening the bedroom door, the last thing I expected to see was identical twins. Charlie and Colin. Both doing Mechanical Engineering in DIT. Both putting together another bunk bed. IKEA won't go out of business anytime soon with this house. They asked me what I was studying but I was in a mind of my own. Paranoid off my face. I didn't usually believe in ouija boards or paranormal activity or any of that nonsense. But could it be? Could the kettle be infused with not only water but the blackest of evil? Conjuring up new tenants with each boil? Or was I talking shite?

I went for a walk to clear my head. When I returned, there was chatter in the kitchen. Claudio, Ciara, Chris, Charlie and Colin were sat around the table. Eating biscuits. Drinking tea.

'Drew, my friend!' said Claudio, standing up. 'No offence, but Ciara's tea is the best.'

Yet again, I heard a thump upstairs. 'No, this can't be happening.'

'I'm sorry, my friend, yours is too milky.'

I ran upstairs. The nearer I got to the bedroom the louder the sound of music. I opened the door and there were two girls in Nirvana t-shirts sitting on a blown up air mattress at the end of the room. Smoking, listening to Westlife.

'You're not allowed to smoke in here!' I shouted.

'It's a vape dude relax.'

I bolted out of there and returned to the kitchen, to that malevolent enitity on the counter. I boiled the kettle. Not once, not twice, but three times. In quick succession.

'What are you doing?' a confused Ciara asked.

'A little experiment,' I replied, never taking my gaze off the kettle, like a mad scientist. After the switch clicked out and the mist faded away, I went back upstairs to prove my theory.

This time, there was nobody new in the bedroom. Just those two vape girls professing their love for Kurt Cobain whilst listening to Blue. I couldn't have been happier my theory was wrong. I heaved a sigh of relief. The kettle wasn't possessed after all. Thank fuck.

But then, someone tapped me from behind. I gulped and cautiously peered over my shoulder to see who it was. I didn't recognize him.

'Well lad, do you know the wi-fi code?'

'Who the fuck are you?' I asked.

'Thanks. Is that all lowercase?'

I began silently pleading with God. No, no, no. I pulled away from the man. In doing so, I backed into something unyielding. It was not a wall. I spun around and a curly-haired ginger girl was facing me in the hallway.

'Hey, Andrew. I'm Grace!! So lovely to finally meet you!! Listen, no biggie but a little birdie told me you may or may not have left the bathroom light on this morning? It's totally fine. We've all been there. For future ref, if you could just remember to switch off after you've done your business, that would be super!!'

I stepped back in revulsion and knocked into another stranger crawling out of the woodwork. I turned around to see a dishevelled fella in a snot-splattered Lonsdale t-shirt. No, no, no, no.

'I ate some of your Coco Pops, bro, hope you don't mind.'

'Get away from me!' I screamed.

I decked him with a headbutt, sending him tumbling down the stairs. I ran down the same route and into the kitchen, ripping the cord of the kettle out of the socket and smashing it to smithereens on the kitchen tiles. Although it was broke, I still didn't feel comfortable in this haunted gaffe anymore. I got into my car but I couldn't drive. I could only sit there, shaking, crying, hands glued to the steering wheel.

Two taps on the passenger door window made me jump in my seat. It was the landlord. Behind him, was a young couple, who were of a similar age to myself. I rolled down the window and he stuck his head in.

'Everything okay, Andrew?'

Trembling, I said, 'No, no, no, no.'

He turned around and addressed the couple. 'Folks, please feel free to go inside and have a look around the property. I'll be with you shortly.'

When they went into the house, he stuck his head back in to me. 'What's the matter, Andrew?'

'The k-k-k-kettle. There's something strange going on with the kettle.'

'Sorry to hear that,' the landlord replied. With a smile, he continued, 'I'll have a brand new one over to you first thing in the morning.'