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Bloodied Fan

I suppose you could say I killed them, though I didn’t mean to, especially the first one. That was your fault, no matter what you say. I was fresh from Lotte Mart. I barely knew what I was, never mind what I was for.

All I was was shapes: a slightly raised flat base, a tubular body part plastic, part metal, with four little bulges halfway up. And then my big round cage of a head angled to a slight droop. My blades did nothing till you got me back to yours and took me to that room. I didn’t know they could kill. And neither did the old woman.

I bleeped and began spinning and before the morning she was dead. You said the timer was on. That I was there to help her. She was burning up. She needed to feel cool air. But it made no difference. I killed her trying to help her. At least that’s what you said. And I believed you.

No one else did. Your family refused to use me. They looked at me and saw the old woman sweat blown off her forehead only for my blades’ breeze to dry her and kill her.

So you leant me to a friend. Fair enough. But he didn’t know my history and you kept it from him. Or at least just told him I was a fan you didn’t need anymore. Perhaps you believed it too.

But I went to his house and killed his mum. She wasn’t that old either. Or burning up. She just hummed a lot while she dusted then turned me on before she lay down for forty winks and died, that one not an accident. I knew what was going to happen even if I wasn’t the one that made me bleep and turn on. I was a killer. They just wanted to be cool in the summer heat but clearly I had other ideas.

The next one I’m pretty sure was totally your fault. You took me back. Your friend saw me for what I was, and you didn’t want me either. Your family refused to have me in the house so you took me to your office. Big mistake. All those people. You should’ve seen it coming. You knew what I was like. You didn’t want to believe it, but you did. You only have yourself to blame introducing a killer like me into a big room like that, even if it took me a while to get going. It’s all well and good leaving me on during the day, but don’t expect me to just keep you cool on those muggy nights.

Your assistant deserved it and you know it. Working that late and falling asleep – what do you expect? I can be a friend, but if you’re off your guard – well. And you knew too. Knew it was me again. Everyone in the office did too. Your family couldn’t believe how stupid you were taking me there.

So you put me out in the store room thinking I was out of harm’s way. I would never kill again, but I did. And really it was your fault again. You should’ve chopped me up, sent me to the tip or something. You knew the security guard slept in there when everyone else had left. You knew it was hot and that he’d see me as a welcome addition to his midnight nap. How long do you think he could last?

So you got rid of me again. Finally. Completely. Put me in the back of your sedan and took me to the tip. Pulled my head off and unscrewed my blades and threw them as far away from my body as you could. But I’m still here. Still going. You didn’t realise who comes to these places. How stubbornly people can search for things, blindly telling themselves to believe something’s there, something’s true – I’ll be fine without my cage, I’ll keep them cool no matter – even if they wind up going to sleep and never waking up again.

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14 thoughts on “Fan Death

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