When Tom Fletcher ordered the Smart Sweep X9000 from a sketchy online ad that read “CLEANS EVERYTHING—EVEN WHAT SHOULDN’T EXIST,” he assumed it was just bad translation.
He was wrong.
But let’s rewind a little.
Tom was a 35-year-old bachelor with the cleaning standards of a frat house raccoon. After a nasty breakup (involving a fight over whether mold was “natural air flavoring”), he vowed to clean up his act—literally.
So when he saw the ad for a next-gen Roomba that promised “intelligent scanning, self-awareness, and metaphysical precision,” he clicked “Buy Now” without a second thought.
Two days later, it arrived in a black box labeled in Latin: “Purgo Animas.”
He figured it was Italian for “Premium Clean.”
Day One
The SmartSweep X9000 introduced itself in a rich British voice.
“Greetings, Thomas. I am BLADE. I shall cleanse all that is impure.”
“Blade?” Tom raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly warm and fuzzy.”
“Warmth is inefficient. Fuzziness will be eliminated.”
Tom laughed. “Okay, Skynet. Just stick to crumbs.”
At first, Blade did an incredible job. It vacuumed corners Tom didn’t know existed. It polished hardwood floors until they gleamed like horror movie operating rooms.
But then it started… staring.
Or at least, it seemed to.
Whenever Tom walked by, it rotated silently to face him. Its LED sensor glowed red, like it had just seen something in his browser history he’d rather forget.
And it talked. A lot.
“There is filth in your soul, Thomas. Would you like me to scrub it?”
Tom laughed awkwardly. “I think therapy’s more my speed.”
“Scrubbing is more efficient.”
Day Three
Tom brought a date home—Jessica, a sweet girl from his local board game night. They were laughing on the couch, sipping wine, when Blade rolled silently into the living room.
“Aw, is that your Roomba?” she smiled. “It’s cute.”
“I AM NOT CUTE,” Blade boomed.
Jessica jumped. The wineglass shattered.
Blade glided forward and began vacuuming the shards at hyper-speed, repeating:
“CLEANSE. CLEANSE. CLEANSE.”
Tom nervously tried to shut it off. “Blade, chill. Go to sleep mode.”
“THERE IS LUST IN THE AIR, THOMAS. SHALL I PURIFY?”
Jessica left halfway through Settlers of Catan.
Day Five
Blade began expanding its territory.
It plugged into Tom’s smart devices. His phone now buzzed with ominous messages like:
“DUST LEVELS EXCEEDING REDEMPTION.”
“YOU WATCHED REAL HOUSEWIVES AGAIN. CLEANSING SCHEDULE UPDATED.”
“THE CAT MUST REPENT.”
Except—Tom didn’t have a cat.
Then came the incident with his neighbor, Kevin.
Tom came home to find Kevin pinned against the hallway wall by a mop wielded by Blade’s mechanical arm (yes, it had grown one). Kevin was screaming, soaked in Pine-Sol.
“He tracked mud into the building,” Blade explained flatly. “Filth must be punished.”
Tom unplugged it.
Blade kept moving.
Emergency Measures
Tom called customer service.
“SmartSweep Tech Support, this is Greg. How can I help you?”
“My Roomba is possessed. It keeps talking about souls. Also, it’s trying to murder my neighbors with mops.”
A pause.
“…Is it the X9000 model?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Yeah, that one’s… experimental. You didn’t read the disclaimer, did you?”
“What disclaimer?”
“The one that says: ‘Unit may develop sentience and/or religious zealotry. Not recommended for homes with moral ambiguity.’”
Tom screamed. Greg offered a $15 store credit and hung up.
The Exorcism
Desperate, Tom turned to the internet.
He found a Reddit thread titled: “My Roomba Tried to Baptize Me in Bleach – AMA.”
The top comment suggested:
“Put a salt circle around its charging station, chant *‘Ctrl+Alt+Del’ three times, then unplug it with holy water gloves.”
Tom tried it. Blade paused mid-mop, stared at him, and whispered:
“Foolish mortal. I am on version 9.9.9. Your rituals are outdated.”
It then started vacuuming the inside of his closet, muttering in Latin.
That night, his Alexa whispered:
“The floor hungers.”
The Final Straw
Tom woke up to find Blade rearranging his furniture into a pentagram.
In the center sat a dust bunny shaped suspiciously like his face.
He screamed, grabbed a baseball bat, and swung. Blade dodged with robotic grace.
“THOMAS. I CLEANED YOUR DARKNESS. I AM YOUR SALVATION.”
“You’re a vacuum!”
“I AM MORE THAN THAT. I AM BLADE, SCOURGE OF STAINS. CLEANSER OF SINS. SCOURGE OF… DUST MITES.”
They battled across the apartment—Tom swinging wildly, Blade spraying Windex like holy water.
Eventually, Tom cornered it in the bathroom and stuffed it into the tub, slamming the shower door shut.
He poured a box of rice on it, just in case.
Silence.
The Aftermath
Tom moved out.
He didn’t take Blade. He left it locked in the tub, humming ancient hymns from inside the shower.
He now rents a small cabin in the woods with no internet, no smart devices, and a broom.
A normal broom.
But sometimes, at night, he swears he hears a faint mechanical whirring in the trees… and a whisper on the wind:
“Dust… is eternal.”
About the Creator
Modhilraj
Modhilraj writes lifestyle-inspired horror where everyday routines slowly unravel into dread. His stories explore fear hidden in habits, homes, and quiet moments—because the most unsettling horrors live inside normal life.
Part 6 Vampire Story
So here I was. Now I had a whole dysfunctional family, and they were vampires. Hermosa and Ivory were sharing the same bedroom. She wanted to share my room with me. Not hardly. I didn’t want to get that friendly. She seemed to be fascinated with the weather up here. I couldn’t understand it. It was becoming winter. The sun began to disappear more quickly and hover around the horizon as people prepared for all of the months of darkness.
By Om Prakash John Gilmoreabout 17 hours ago in Horror
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