Greetings!
It was 4:15 AM when I couldn't bear it anymore. The sound of a house cricket filled my room, and it's one sound I hate with a passion, just like the sound of mosquitoes. My brother was around, sleeping and snoring. He isn't the type that's bothered even when there's a rat in the house; it's never his concern. In fact, the few times a rat entered the house, he was the one who opened the door for them, which I queried him about to make sure he didn't do it again.
The sound of the cricket was such that the direction it was coming from was untraceable. Oh yeah, I usually trace sounds like that and kill the insects either by spraying insecticides or catching them with a broom.
I got up and tiptoed in the direction I felt the sound was coming from, but no luck—I couldn't locate any spot. That's how I tiptoed around every corner of the house, hoping to find the source, but I couldn't. The fact that the sound didn't go away when I got closer to the walls and corners of the house was a clear sign that the crickets weren't there.
"Where are these crickets?" I thought, as I went back and sat on my bed. I began to consider that maybe they were spiritual and just wanted to make me uncomfortable, but then I reminded myself that house crickets are too small to be spiritually inclined. If it were a rat, yes, I might be more concerned, but not for house crickets.
The sounds were still very loud and non-stop, and it seemed as if their energy source was being renewed every second. The field crickets I know make their sound in a breaking pattern; they run it for a few seconds, then stop to rest before making sounds again, but that of house crickets is different.
After a while, I thought of tracing the sounds again. This time, I listened closely to my ceiling, and that was it. I hit my hand on the ceiling, and automatically, all the sounds died off. My body weakened instantly with thoughts of how to kill them off because climbing up to the ceiling, which the scuttle hole isn't even in my room, just to kill crickets is a very serious task.
I began to bang my hand on the ceiling to chase them out of my room. My brother woke up and asked me what was happening. I just ignored him because even if I told him, he wouldn't join me or do anything about it—sounds like that don't bother his peace.
After I had banged to my satisfaction, the noise stopped completely, and I went back to bed. Twenty minutes later, the sounds, or rather noises, resurrected, this time louder and crazier, and I felt maybe the house crickets planned to frustrate my life. I had to put on music on my phone, increasing the volume so I wouldn't hear the sounds again.
When it's dawn of the day, I'm going to buy an insecticide and open the full content on top of my ceiling tonight.
I wrote this 6:40am when it's daybreak already, patiently waiting for stores to open so I could buy and fumigate everywhere in the compound.
Thanks for reading.
| All photos are mine |
