Chapter III

TRISTAN’S PHONE CALL TO ASHLYNN

10  October, 12:00 A.M., Voice Message – Yo, bitch-ass n- H-Hey Ashley! You're sleeping already? There's no reason to be tired when you're jobless. I work my ass off, and your generation wants everything free. The communist in office wants to give handouts to your kind— don't get me started with those blacks on EBT— who can’t close their goddamn legs! Anyway, you’re in college (that I'm paying for with MY hard-earned cash), so apply that brain to something above a restaurant agua-boy. Aha! I knew you’d make excuses. Spics like your family take our jobs, then drive around in BMWs while wearing gold-chains. Meanwhile, people like me are struggling to make ends meet. Oh my god; I can’t stand wetbacks. Sorry, Ashley, daddy’s a bit drunk right now. I love you! Hope mom’s well. I heard about her injury… tell her she’s welcome to stop by. I know what’ll help fix her… Bye baby! 

GRANDMA BUELITA’S PHONE CALL TO CHARLIE

23 October, 7:00 A.M., Spanish – God help us all. She clogged the toilet. There’s no time to explain. I just returned from visiting my sister. Yes, we did everything you asked. Yes, stocked up on stool softener. Yes, we had diets rich in fiber. I know, man. I understand what you’re saying, but this is the first instance of our toilet being backed up. We made sure to be careful. I feel the basement tremor in admonishment. My statue of Virgencita fell off the wardrobe and broke in two.  Not in the same place either, they flowed to different parts of the home via a water stream. A coincidence? It can’t be. 

This has to be Satanic. Who clogged it? Ashlynn.

ESMERALDA’S TEXT TO FIANCÉ

23 October, 6:15 P.M., Read – I should never have trusted my daughter with the gummies. Her appetite has worsened and now the whole entire place is falling apart. Where did she go? She has not sent me a message all day. The recently installed sprinkler system went off on its own, so Papa refuses to come out from under my bed. Debris fell on my left foot and now it is swollen. But my mother says we cannot stop it lol. I do not understand this woman. My A1c is at 6.5 based on lab results. She told me to avoid medical attention or else “It” will get mad. 

Is she trying to slowly kill me?

ESMERALDA’S TEXT TO FIANCÉ (Cont’d 1)

23 October, 6:20 P.M., Delivered – omg mom came into the room just to berate me over the clogged toilet. i think she wants someone t control after being a slave to my father–godrest his soul – heworked hard to support the f amily – but i refuse to bea part of the matrix L mao

ESMERALDA’S TEXT TO FIANCÉ (Cont’d 2)

23 October, 6:22 P.M., Delivered – can you call me. Pls

ESMERALDA’S TEXT TO FIANCÉ (Cont’d 3)

23 October, 6:23 P.M., Read – jefa told me why wewere never allowed toclog the toilet smh

ASHLYNN’S JOURNAL

23 October, Midnight – I just returned from the local dispensary. I’m delighted that marijuana was recently legalized in New York State. It’s my medicine after all! As for the home, everyone’s presently in their rooms. Oddly enough, no one responds when I knock on their doors. Bizarre! I know they’re home. While my mom has some screws loose from substance abuse during her early 20s, she buys the good stuff, and wields a web of wondrous connections. Shit better than DXM. She calls it “snow”. Oh, and my appetite has been insatiable. I only have $25 to my name, though I should buy something for the house. We’re a Hispanic family, yet we never eat rice. There aren’t bananas in the home either. Wait. I just had an epiphany.

                Grandma loved scaring us as kids to teach lessons.. She’d make up absurd rules that fool a child into obedience, no matter how nonsensical. We weren’t allowed to go towards my current room. It belonged to my grandfather. I think it was less of him and more of the sewage closet. According to her, the “Mano de Mono” would steal our fragile little bodies, then we’d never see the light of day. It only preyed upon naughty children, similarly to mythical figures like Krampus. As I grew older, I learned that it was just a lone heavy-duty work glove silhouetted by the absence of photons. It truly felt like entering an abyss, so none of us dared to test her word. We’d rather get “la faja” (the belt) over that. Nothing was more harrowing than her tales from the mountains. Grandma would often tell us about Nicaraguan legends such as La Segua. She’s a femme fatale vengeful spirit from Central American folklore who seduced unfaithful men at night, only to transform her head into a horse’s skull while brutalizing them. This entity apparently appeared in a body of water. For instance, a river. She swore to the Lord that the Segua was nearby. Embarrassingly enough, I believe her. Speaking of water, I showered 10 minutes ago, and the water pressure became quite peculiar. The temperatures operate on constant switching extremes. One moment it’s 40 degrees and the next it’s 90. This phenomenon extends to the sink. Cold becomes warm; Warm becomes cold. It’s impossible to use water without the pipes bursting. We ordered more mops to keep up with the leakage, but it’s incessant. After a while, we gave up and instead clung to the walls. Slipping would be a death sentence. Oh, and little Papa doesn’t dare touch the floor anymore! Good thing he can jump high. If clogging a toilet is enough to cause the apocalypse, then this world is screwed.

GRANDMA BUELITA’S TEXT TO ESMERALDA

24 October, 2:35 P.M., Spanish, Delivered – The landlord said we have about a week to find another home before “it” happens. You know what I’m talking about, right? I suppose you don’t. You’re a good-for-nothing, useless bitch. Go fuck that Catalan boy for all I care! Feel grateful to be under my roof in your forties. Even Ash has something going for herself with college. She told me that she’s pursuing a Chemistry degree at NYU! I expect a lot from her. May she live a blessed life. You need to focus on here, not Spain. Stop sending him money! 

GRANDMA BUELITA’S TEXT TO ESMERALDA (Cont’d 1)

24 October, 2:42 P.M., Spanish, Delivered – Don’t fix this situation. It will grow enraged. Using the sump pump would be suicide, and God forgive me if I take the life he breathed into my sinful vessel. Look at the indisputable proof of the end times. We can’t interfere with God’s plan.

GRANDMA BUELITA’S TEXT TO ESMERALDA (Cont’d 2)

25 October, 1 A.M., Spanish, Read – I want to die, Esmeralda.

ESMERALDA’S NOTES APP

26 October, 8:00 A.M. – As annoying as my mother can be, it pains me to see her depressed. She still barely tells me anything. Sigh. Papa is sleeping on my bed. He has grown sick from a loss of appetite. I think the stress has gotten to him. Me too, Papa, me too. My legs feel numb. The doctor said I’ve developed neuropathy. Wow. This AI thing really does work. Better than Grammarly. I am impressed with its quality. 

ESMERALDA’S NOTES APP

26 October, 2:45 P.M. – I just woke up from my nap to a loud grumbling noise. This sounds close by, but is coming from the sewage closet. For it to be this intense across the apartment means we need to figure something out and fast. I have no one to talk to about this. Not even my fiancé understands what I live with. I can only describe the sound as a growling stomach. 

ASHLYNN’S JOURNAL

26 October, 4 P.M. – I can’t believe what I heard from Grandma’s room. Mine is sat beside hers, so I often catch phone conversations with whoever’s on the other end. I can only understand conversational Spanish, but I’m certain most of it was gossip based on tone alone. Mom tirelessly reminded me to pick words carefully with Grandma. What, is she talking smack about me clogging our precious little latrine? That would speak to her boredom living in the same place for about 40 years. She always took good care of us and trust me, her homemade meals are superior to the finest Michelin-star restaurants in FiDi. Okay, I’m getting sidetracked.

               I eavesdropped by peeking through the door. My nickname is the “ninja” because seldom do I make noise while traversing the perimeter. I loathe that word… it insinuates I’ll kill them, which is too morbid for comfort. Anyway, they discussed a creature which supposedly absorbs urine and consumes fecal matter– an entity of sorts with a craving for excrement. Am I dreaming? You’re telling me that for over the past 19 years, something has been guzzling our dung? Thinking about the implications, especially during my youth, sickens me to my core. Are we, in actuality, babysitting Charlie’s eldritch pet? Surely, this isn’t mere conjecture.

I have many questions. 

So many.

Chapter IV

ESMERALDA’S NOTES APP

27 October, noon – i feel alone in this house. i feel stuck here. ifeel solost. i wish I could do my life over so thatnone of us could gothrough this. irealized this not normal, yet for the longest timeit was perfectly okay to live this way. im sorry Ashlynn. I heard you scream because of a raccoon falling on your faceHow is a raccoon in here? ddid someone leaf the door open? come on. n one is trying to help me. maybe it is because of being in the wrong timeline. ineed to meditate later andshift to one were they lend a hand. no maybe i should future regress to speak with my alternate self for guidance . 

ASHLYNN’S JOURNAL

28 October, 5:05 P.M. – My girlfriend and I returned from a rendezvous along Coney Island’s boardwalk. Despite offering to help with the drain situation, she isn’t allowed in my building for “reasons”. I shouldn’t need to elaborate. Thankfully, I won’t be here for too long– there’s just some unfinished business. That reminds me: it’s illegal to have visitors in our home. Charlie and the previous family unit are exempt from the restriction. Even then, outsiders are prohibited from using the bathroom. It is, and I quote, “a NYCHA violation waiting to happen”. Anyway, I needed some quality time with my little flower. The beach wasn’t open, so few people attended compared to the height of summer vacation. Feeling the gentle breeze caress each and every one of my pores invigorated my soul. Free-spirited seagulls soared overhead into the sunset, sprinkling a sanguine taste on summer saltiness. They eat, shit, and go wherever with little to no restrictions. Now that's life! Me? My depression is debilitating. It doesn’t help that I live a rather sedentary lifestyle. Mom called my room a pigsty. but when there’s a mini-fridge? You never want to leave! I’ve come to appreciate the boardwalk more than the beach itself in this past month. Unlike my home, I have a choice in being near the water. 

Oh, to be a Victorian lady forced to live in a seaside bungalow as treatment to her debilitating, unrelenting mental state.

I feel

Hysterical.

ESMERALDA’S TEXT TO GRANDMA BUELITA

28 October, 8:30 P.M., Spanish, Read – where didthe sump pump go wile i was getting a

lottery ticket?

ESMERALDA’S TEXT TO ASHLYNN

29 October, 9:25 A.M., Delivered – Good morning Ash. This is your mother. I hope you are safe. I am using your brother's phone since you blocked me everywhere and removed yourself from the WhatsApp group. I wanted to tell you that Papa is sick with E.coli. We are at the vet. Marco drove all the way from Hoboken to take us because I feel unwell. My health delved into unimaginable territory. 

Please avoid showering and using the kitchen faucet. Everything is contaminated. We will drive to Costco to pick up 8 water cases for the house. We can only drink out of plastic bottles now. Not the sink, not the filter, not the bathtub, not the pipes, but bottles from the supermarket. 

A key takeaway is that the apartment lacks potable water. Generally speaking, water is safe if boiled to kill disease-causing pathogens. Bring clear water to a rolling boil for 1 minute. At elevations above 6,500 feet, boil water for 3 minutes. This is a game-changing discovery in human history, which revolutionized how we harnessed drinking water. To put it simply, a transformative, seamless integration into civilizations that persist today. A paradigm shift in water consumption that, generally speaking, is a global development highlighted by studies done by the CDC. Studies illustrate that because our bodies are 90% water, we only reach full hydration once the remaining 10% is absorbed into our bloodstream.

I hope this shed light on our current issues. 

See you soon. 

ESMERALDA’S COMPOSITIONAL NOTEBOOK

30 October, 6 A.M. – this girl mustbe possessed by a demon. iknow my daughter, and that is not her. ash snuck into our rooms while we were sleeping and stole our devices. shes currently isolated in the spare room. iam convinced she made a bed out of the stool softener containers from  the shuffling I heard. her bedroom is inhabbitabel . it’s hard writing without my best frend AI. it fixes all my mistakes.she locked herself inside overnight andrefuses to answer us. maybe if only her father were here, she would step outside. Shealways loved him more. ourliving situation is worse.befour I moved back, there was a rats den behind the kitchen fridge ; thee hole was large enough for an adult man to crawl through. opoop everywhere! i thought wecleaned it out. iguess not if deadbaby mice and pellets float down the halway. eversince papa has gone into hiding, we have heard more mouse activity.. i rebuke you, in the name of jesus.

Give me back my daughter.

GRANDMA BUELITA’S PHONE CALL TO CHARLIE

30 October, 3 P.M., Spanish – Nope, we haven’t moved, and we have nowhere to go. There’s little in savings, so a hotel wouldn’t be a possible option. No, I refuse to go into shelter where those damn Venezuelan migrants seek asylum. Malditos. I never trusted those fuckers, and they make Dominicans and Puerto Ricans look like saints. I don’t understand people like my daughter who carelessly date other Hispanics. I’ve accepted that my life wouldn’t have changed way before Ash was alive. Tenant complaints about a stench? They can bitch for all I care. Living beside a house of crazies was a choice. The flood? Of course, yes, the water is up to our thighs. We’re not allowed to remove footwear anymore because my daughter developed a foot ulcer, so no one wants to risk severe health complications. Hell, I tore down one of the doors to use as a raft. While helpful, I badly sprained my left arm by overexerting it. Moving like this isn’t good for my old ag– What? 

How’s Ash doing? None of your business.

We’re done. Que te jodan.