Dripping

Drip...

drip...

drip.

"That dripping again... Where's it coming from?"

I can’t forget the first time I heard it. An unnerving, unrelenting sound that ripped through the silent peace of my grey, bland kitchen.

I had been filling the sink with water, finally getting around to washing my weeks-old dishes, most of which had darkish green mold forming on them- I had never been much good at taking care of things.

I had been entertaining the mundane thoughts of any ordinary person, on any ordinary day, when I heard the first eerie, taunting drop splash onto the tile- the noise suddenly fracturing the quiet solitude of my home, shaking me into awareness.

drip.

At first, I dismissed it as just a leaky pipe, and I had no desire to delve into the long patchwork it would take to fix it, so I continued with my dish washing. But the more I ignored it, the louder it grew. The distant pattering of liquid hitting the floor-

drip. drip. drip

Again and again I heard it, the tiny sound begging for my attention, raging into a deafening roar in my ears, until I could stand it no longer. I whipped around in agitation, marched over to the nearest wall and pressed my ear against it, listening for the leaky pipe.

A few moments passed, and then-

drip.

The sound came not from inside the wall, but from within the room. I looked up, searching, expecting that the rainy day outside was trying to force its way in through a crevice in the ceiling- but it was still as plain and unsoiled as it had always been. I decided to search the casements next, taking a step- but halting when my toes slid over something wet.

I looked down to discover a red substance dotting the floor. Kneeling beside it, I dragged a finger through the dark liquid, examining it closely. It smelled metallic, like copper, and it was somewhat sticky… it almost seemed like… it looked like... no.

I brought it to my lips, dabbing a small amount on my tongue, only to recoil at the flavor;

Blood.

I stood suddenly, anxiously searching the room, and heard it again-

drip...

drip...

drip.

I whirled around and found more droplets of deep crimson just inches from me, so I looked at the ceiling once more- not a single stain or mark to indicate a leak. I tested every window in the kitchen, desperately searching the walls and corners for an answer. There had to be something causing that awful sound, producing those grisly red droplets!

Fear and confusion fought inside me as I struggled to understand; I lived alone, but was someone playing a joke perhaps? Who would come all the way out here to do that? But… it was possible, so I called out- “Hello, i-is anyone there?”

I held my breath, afraid someone would answer. My heart pounded as silent seconds ticked by, every small creak of the house, every shifting pipe creeping up my skin, into my bones. No answer came, the dripping had stopped, and I let out a shaky breath.

I crouched down to re-examine the spots on the floor, but when my fingers swept over them, the drops felt old and dry. I stared at the tiles, trying to come up with some rational explanation. "It must have been a bit of paint that spilled on the floor. Maybe… from the old owner?" I reasoned with myself.

According to the realtor, the previous renter had passed away due to health complications, and so the owner put it up for new tenancy. The house hadn’t undergone any renovations since, as far as they knew, but what else could it be? It had to be paint.

Salty-tasting, metallic-smelling, old paint that was… still wet? Was it possible? And even then- that didn’t explain the dripping sound.

I decided not to think about it, shaking the disturbing idea from my head, and chastising myself for being so dramatic- of course it was paint!

I laughed at myself, taking an old rag to the floor and viciously scrubbing until all signs of the strange substance were gone. Throwing the rag and its mysterious contents down the laundry chute, I stalked back to the kitchen sink, determined to forget the whole thing, and continued with my melancholy day.

Long, boring, apathetic minutes ticked by as I stared blankly out the window, watching the summer rain pour on, repeating each motion: Wash. Rinse. Wash. Rinse. Wash. Rinse. Wash-

drip.

My heart stood silent in my chest, afraid to beat. I felt the sensation of something warm spreading in the filthy water- and prayed it was just condensation from the spout. I let my eyes drift slowly downward as a lump of anxiety formed in my throat… only for that anxiety to become terror. The water had turned such a dark red, it looked black.

I raised my arms, thick runs of scarlet trickling down to my elbows, I tried to let out a scream, but it was strangled by panic. I raced to the linen closet in the hall.

Throwing open the door, I ripped a towel from the shelf and scrubbed desperately at my skin, but the stains remained. I raced to the bathroom next, grabbed a bottle of soap and lathered it all over my arms, watching the scarlet mix with white suds, the color starting to dissipate.

For what seemed like an eternity, I rinsed and lathered over and over, scratching at the remnants until my skin was raw. Finally, the only red that remained were the marks left from my nails. With a relieved sigh, I sunk to the bathroom floor, leaning against the bathtub, breathing heavily. I lay there for a while- waiting for my anxiety to subside, a pounding headache spreading across my temples. Eventually- reluctantly- I dragged myself to my feet, and mentally prepared for what awaited me in the sink. I exited cautiously from the bathroom, taking timid steps down the length of the hall, entered the kitchen, and stood an arms-length from the sink.

It was still full of water, but looking more closely now, I realized the water was brighter than I’d imagined, more like a tarnished brown-red.

"Maybe it is the pipes… maybe they're rusted?" I told myself, turning on the tap, and it did splutter a bit, but the water ran clear.

"I’m losing my mind." I mumbled, draining the sink and advising myself to make coffee plans with someone, anyone. I hadn’t engaged in any human interaction in a while, maybe I was hallucinating? Or perhaps the dreary weather and loneliness had begun warping my mind.

I walked into the living room and picked up the phone, dialing a friend’s number. There were a few short rings, a pause, and then- "We're sorry, this number is out of service, if you would like to try again-"

"That's strange..." I said aloud, "Did they change their number?" I tried again.

This time it didn’t connect, instead the dial-tone went silent, the stillness on the other end becoming heavy.

"H-hello?" I greeted the void on the other side. No response. Only a shuffling noise, then suddenly, a high ringing sound ruptured through the quiet…

whhhhrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The ringing noise grew louder and more shrill, until it was maddening, a thick presence seemed to reach through the phone- like a scream crawling out of an abyss- and then…

"Behind you."

drip.

I spun around in alarm, preparing for some sinister intruder, the unsettling static still spilling from the phone, clinging to the air. The living room was dimly lit, so I turned in a careful circle, scanning the dark corners, doorways, but there was nothing… until something eerie caught my eye. Nothing except… footprints.

Deep, bloody pools, that crept across the living room carpet and stopped right behind me. I scrambled to the door in a fit of hysterics- clawing at the locks like some wild, caged thing, wrenching myself outside into the bleak afternoon.

It was no longer raining, my skin was greeted with crisp, cold air like that of autumn- far too cold and unusual for this time of year- but I didn’t have time to think about it. I raced across frosted grass with bare feet, but I didn’t dare slow down- or look back- until I had reached the fence at the edge of the property. I slammed into a stone fencepost, clutching it mercilessly as my lungs starved for air, breath caught in my chest, and the horror sunk into me like a sickness. Something was in my house.

I scanned my surroundings; I lived just outside of town, my workplace and other public areas about a twenty-minute walk, close enough that I hadn’t bothered to get a vehicle. A decision I was now deeply regretting. It wasn’t ordinarily a problem, but I knew that my shaking legs would probably never carry me to refuge in time, not with- something… following close behind.

The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me, only to intensify with another realization- if I couldn’t make it to town, and there was no one else around to ask for help, it left me with only one other option; force myself back to the house- the beckoning tomb- and get to the phone to call for help… before 'it' got to me. I sunk onto the grass, debating between my possible paths of death.

I had only just begun gathering my strength when a low, howling wind reached through the trees, and what looked like… ash? Began to fall from the sky. I watched the specks land silently at my feet, letting a few particles drift into my palm, and realized it wasn’t ash.

“Snow? This late in the summer?” I said staring dumbfounded, investigating the sky for its reason in faulty judgement, and finally took note of the misty landscape surrounding me.

The trees had become rough with scraggly branches, brown leaves floating beneath them on the breeze. Distant sounds echoed on the air like ghostly wails, lending to the foreboding feeling that I was being pulled into the fog.

I tried to reconcile with what my eyes were seeing, but it was impossible. Something wasn’t right, but I didn’t want to wait around to find out what.

I summoned what little courage I had and started back, long misty fingers beginning to curl under my toes, the wind rising and pulling me back across the grass, beckoning me to the fog, but I pushed onwards towards the door.

I stood before the entrance, envisioning the pools of blood on the carpet, and reconsidered my options- maybe there was another way, some hidden salvation I hadn’t thought of? But as the flakes of snow and mist began to tangle into an angry flurry, I knew no help would await me in the fog. So I paused, took a deep breath… and stepped through the threshold.

I stood in the living room and blinked in disbelief. The footprints were gone.

Bewildered, I ran into the kitchen- only to find no trace of scarlet water in the sink or sticky rouge splatters on the floor. A small glimmer of hope trickled through me as I searched every inch of the two rooms… not a single drop remained. I traced back through the events, reliving each horrifying moment, but despite the haunting visions still swimming in my mind, no evidence remained that they had ever happened. I could only come to one conclusion; I must have been dreaming. Dreamed the whole thing. I had run out into the cold fog from nothing more than a nightmare.

I sank with deep relief onto the couch, and even though the unexplainable weather was still raging on outside, I was too drained to think or question anymore. That was it, a dream, it must be- my mind had invented the haunting out of sheer exhaustion, hallucinating from too many sleepless nights. As my nerves relaxed, I realized that I was indeed very tired.

Resting my worn-out brain against the soft, sofa pillows, I let the weariness overcome me, the storm battering against the windows as I longed for rest. The howling wind threatened to break through the shutters and let the dreary evening seep in, but I didn’t care. I lay gazing with vacant eyes at my bare walls, darkness creeping at the edges of my vision, the kindness of sleep clouding my thoughts as I started to drift. I let my worries slip away, falling into bliss- falling, falling, f…a...l...l...i....n.....g.

drip.

My eyes snapped open.

I couldn’t remember waking, but somehow, I was standing in the bedroom.

My eyes dragged over each corner of the room in confused circles, trying to make sense of where I was, then they caught something moving… and fell on the mirror. My entire body screamed in horror, for there in its threshold, stood a being. Its black eyes bore into mine, shoulders drenched in blood, dried and crumbling across its ashen face. Fresh streams of plasma drained from its ears, and a black tongue protruded from its gaping maw. I didn't wait.

I sprinted frantically to the phone in the living room, dialing numbers, each call starting and ending the same. Disconnected. Disconnected. Disconnected.

“Help!” I screamed uselessly, erratically hurtling from one room to the next, each time crossing a mirror, a window, polished surfaces around every turn, waves of terror melting my strength as the spirit chased me through the reflections. I tried to scream again, but this time my throat filled with blood. My voice became a strangled, gargling cry, and the phantoms face contorted to match mine, mocking.

Then… the same shrill ringing I’d heard through the phone earlier invaded the air. The ethereal silence grew, and a blanket of darkness wrapped around me- a sentient, heavy thing- holding me hostage, breath and thought and flesh all captive. Searing pressure expanded in my temples, nausea rolled in my gut as the earth began to spin, and then a voice-

"Behind you."

Everything came to a sharp halt. The blackness that had engulfed me now floated along the ceiling, deathly still. As my senses settled, I felt someone watching me.

Slowly, I turned towards the bathroom; the decaying being reflected in the wall mirror, gazing at me, waiting.

I forced myself to turn around, shaking uncontrollably as I scanned, but like every time before, no one was there. I turned back to face it.

"Behind you!"

There was no movement from its mouth, but its eyes met mine. It gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod, and a strange feeling washed over me. It wanted something.

I tried to comprehend, tried to think about what it could possibly want from me, but I had nothing of value. I wracked my aching mind for answers, bringing my hands up to cradle my head, and that's when I felt it. My fingers grazed something odd on the left side, a place where the skin had been disturbed. I followed along the ridge, and it led to a spot near the back of my skull where the tissue was flayed to one side. A ring of tattered flesh around a large opening.

I traced one shaking forefinger over it and slipped it inside the hole. Then I slipped another, and another. I could feel the jagged edges of my broken skull through thick drips of blood, clumps of flesh lining the opening, clumps of... of…

A strangled sob escaped my lips, and fluid oozed from the opening.

drip.

I looked down at my feet, pools forming on the carpet below, and I understood. The dripping, the sink, the footsteps… the hideous creature in the mirror... it was me. And my sinister reality came flooding back.

I recalled the numbers I had been dialing and realized... it was my own. It was me, only me, alone with my blood and my pain and my regret. And then a memory surfaced. A memory of a life I had hated- a life I would have given up for anything else- if only the heartache would stop. The irony- in life I had thought I had nothing.

Now… I was nothing. Nothing but a void of empty regret and longing. A longing to be anything- anywhere- but here.

I walked slowly back to the bedroom, the gruesome being and bloody footsteps following in my wake. I found the bed, pulled back the covers and found the deep black stain that enveloped the sheets. Another memory surfaced, a moment... that moment.

When I’d heard the clink of hard steel and welcomed a fantasy; ecstasy encasing me as my last thoughts swam in my vision, thoughts of bright light and gold beings and warm hands, thoughts that flickered... and ended. Nothing could have prepared me for the cruel prison that awaited. Trapped in the same dreary, mundane eternity, the cold empty house, the unending silence. And just me.

"It can't be..." I sat on the edge of the bed, denial befriending me, pulling me into the black stain. "It can't... I can’t… be…" I lay on the bed wearily, resting my hands on my bloody face, trying to convince myself this was all still some nightmare. Maybe if I went to back to sleep… it would all go away?

My eyes grew heavy, and I let them. Let them pull my mind into oblivion, to a place where my pain and consciousness could never rise to the surface again. Heavy… too heavy... the black stain moved beneath me, my body sinking into it.

And I kept sinking, until the thoughts and memories folded together, and I couldn't tell one from the next. Deeper and deeper I sank. Deeper. D...e...e...p...e...r…

"Wait!" My eyes sprang open.

"Wait, no! This can't be right; it doesn’t have to end like this!”

The stain clung at me as I ripped myself from the bed, tearing from the room. Blood tracked behind me as I sprinted through the house and slammed into the kitchen sink, trying not to vomit. "Don't disappear!" I screamed at myself.

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm still here!” A deafening pain struck the side of my head, a blast of heat, the smell of smoke. Agony rolled through me as I tried to fight the blackness invading my body, pulling me toward the bed, back into the void.

drip...

"No wait- please!"

drip...

"No... stop… I can fix this! Just tell me how!”

drip...

“How do I get out of this place? Why am I here?!”

drip...

“Why… where am I?"

drip…

“Where…?”

drip…

“Where?”

drip...

drip...

drip.

"That dripping again... Where's it coming from?”