Wicked They Come

Miriam heard that noise again. The walls vibrated and a sound like howling wind roared briefly and then cut off quick like someone slammed the window shut on it. It came from the empty flat above her basement room.

When Miriam first heard it she ran upstairs to see what it was. Mr. Menkin already stood in the front hall and several people ran out of their tenement rooms. The landlady, Mrs. Kitchens, lived in the other first-floor flat right across the hall from the empty room. Even so, she was the last to appear.

“What’s the problem?” she demanded.

“Something’s in there, Mrs. Kitchens,” said Mr. Menkin. “It shook the whole building. You didn’t notice it?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said sharply. Miriam didn’t believe her. People’s stunned silence indicated that nobody else believed her either.

“Something caused that caterwalling, Mrs. Kitchens,” said Miriam. “If you would be so kind as to unlock that door.”

Mrs. Kitchens scowled and took out her ring of keys and unlocked the door. Nasty old Mr. Nickolas had died in there a few years ago, after of lifetime of meanness, petty cruelty and probably petty crime as well, though nobody could ever prove it. Mrs. Kitchens found him one morning, stiff and cold, his eyes staring and his face drawn back in a rictus of terror. Mr. Menkin was one of the men who had carried him out. He confided to Miriam later that he thought Mr. Nickolas must have seen the devil coming for him.