Vomit Stains On Carpet - How To Get Rid Of Carpet Beetles - Heated Carpet Cleaners
Inspired by one of my favorite short stories: "El almohadon de plumas" (The Feather Pillow) by Horacio Quiroga. Abridged version (translated by yours truly) below:
The honeymoon was one long chill. Blonde, angelic, and shy, her husband's hard character froze her childhood dreams of being a bride. She loved him very much. Still, sometimes she shuddered a little when she cast a furtive glance at Jordan's tall stature as they came home at night together in the street in silence. He, for his part, loved her deeply, without letting it be known.
For three months--they got married in April--they lived with a certain happiness.
The house in which they lived was affected her shudders. The whiteness of the silent patio--friezes, columns, and marble statues--produced an autumnal impression of an enchanted palace. Inside, the glacial brilliance of the stucco, without the faintest scratch on the high walls, affirmed that sensation of unpacifiable cold.
It wasn't so surprising that she became thin. She had a case of the flu that dragged on for days and days; Alicia never really got over it. Finally one afternoon she was able to go out to the garden, leaning on his arm. Soon Jordan, with deep tenderness, ran his hand over her head, and Alicia suddenly burst into sobs, throwing her arms around his neck. Finally her sobs diminished; she stayed there for a long time, buried in his neck, without moving or saying a word.
That was the last day Alicia got up. Jordan's doctor examined her with great care, prescribing absolute calm and rest.
"I don't know," he told Jordan in the doorway, his voice lowered. "She's so weak, but I can't explain it. No vomiting, nothing. If she wakes up tomorrow the same as she did today, call me immediately."
The next day, Alicia got worse. There was a consultation. The doctor diagnosed a rapidly advancing anemia, completely inexplicable.
Soon Alicia started having hallucinations. The young woman, her eyes open immeasurably wide, did nothing but stare at the carpet
on either side of the bed. One night she found her self suddenly staring at it. She opened her mouth to scream, her nostrils and lips pearly with sweat.
Among her more persistent hallucination was one of an insect standing on the carpet, with its eyes fixed on her.
The doctors kept coming, with no results. There was in front of them a life that was ending, losing blood day by day, hour by hour, and they had no idea how.
Alicia was fading away in her anemic delirium, which was bad in the evenings, but it always got worse in the early morning. During the day, her condition didn't worsen, but every morning she woke up livid, almost having an attack. It seemed like her life was leaving her on waves of blood, but only at night. When she woke up, she always had the feeling of being trapped on the bed under a million kilos. After the third day of this degeneration, he never left her side again. She could barely move her head. She didn't want anyone to touch the bed, not even to fluff her pillow. Her twilight terrors came in the form of monsters that dragged themselves across the bed and stomped over the bedspread.
Then she lost consciousness. Those last days, she raved constantly under her breath. The lights remained on, as if for a wake, in the bedroom and the parlor. In the agonizing silence of the house, nothing was heard but the delirious monotone that came from the bed, and the stifled sound of Jordan's ceaseless pacing.
Alicia died, finally. The servant, who came in to change the sheets, alone at that moment, saw something strange on the pillow.
"Senor!" she called to Jordan in a low voice. "There are stains
on the pillow that look like blood."
Indeed, on the pillowcase, on each side of the dent that Alicia's head had made, he saw dark splotches.
"They look like little bites," the servant said, after staring at them for a while.
"Hold it up to the light," Jordan said.
The servant held it up, but she dropped it quickly, and stood staring at it, shocked and trembling. Without knowing why, Jordan felt his hair stand on end.
"What is it?" he asked hoarsely.
"It's very heavy," said the servant, still shaking.
Jordan held it up; it weighed an extraordinary amount. He left with it and took it to the dining room table. Jordan cut it deeply with one slice. The top layer of feathers flew up, and the servant gave a scream of horror with her mouth open, grasping the railing with her twitching hands. At the bottom, among the feathers, slowing moving its furry paws, was a monstrous animal, a vicious and living ball. It was so swollen that it could barely move its mouth.
Night after night, as soon as Alicia had gotten into bed, it had stealthily applied its mouth--or its beak, more accurately--to her temples, sucking her blood. The mark was almost imperceptible. The daily rotation of the pillow h