Whispers in the Rain

For 21 years, my life followed a predictable path, filled with scraped knees and the bruises of youthful wonder colliding with mature realities. From there, it transitioned to the typical experiences of adolescence—acne, hormone changes, and awkwardness with girls. Just the normal stuff, you know.

As time went on, the mundane motif of my life continued. I struggled to pay bills, found myself trapped in a dead-end job, devoid of a girlfriend, and drowning in the responsibilities of adulting. That monotonous existence persisted until about a month ago when a peculiar occurrence disrupted my world.

It all began when an unusual purple haze enveloped the sky, casting an otherworldly ambiance. The air turned frothy and warm, and the rain descended upon me, drenching me in its peculiar essence. While the oddity of the purple sky and warm, frothy rain could be easily noted, the most perplexing aspect was that I appeared to be the only witness to this extraordinary event.

Let me set the scene for you. I was stranded five miles away from town when my old, unreliable car decided to give up on me. Instead of the usual clunking sound and screeching tires, the engine simply ceased, leaving me stranded. As I stepped out of the car to investigate this strange phenomenon, the purple sky appeared out of nowhere, and the rain began to fall, trapping me outside as the electric door locks engaged themselves.

There I stood, utterly drenched, while my worthless jalopy acted as a mere shelter from the rain, failing to fulfill even that basic purpose under the malevolent force of the universe. Within moments, my entire being was soaked to the bone. But then, the warmth of the rain transformed from a crawling sensation on my skin to a soothing, comforting embrace. It felt invigorating, as if it were breathing life into me.

The warmth lulled me into a trance-like state, blurring the boundaries between myself and the rain. Then, with a distinct click, the rain abruptly ceased. I attempted to open the car door once again, and to my surprise, it yielded. In that instant, as I settled back into my lemon of a vehicle, the engine roared back to life. It seemed as if my life was returning to its monotonous routine, free from the enigmatic purple haze and the ominous sky that had haunted me.

Believing I had been the sole witness to this strange occurrence, I found solace in my experience. That is, until I arrived home and encountered Nancy, my neighbor from 1B, standing directly beneath my apartment. She sported a damp sweat suit, her blonde hair in the process of drying, while observing my still-wet hair.

"The water was pretty warm," she remarked casually, her voice laced with a sense of shared experience.

A surge of excitement washed over me, and I eagerly replied, "You felt it too?"

"Sure did," she responded, her demeanor comforting. "And it felt amazing."

Relief flooded my being as she validated my encounter. "I was beginning to think I had gone mad, that I was the only one who experienced it."

"No, sir," she assured me, her eyes scanning mine for sincerity. "I felt it too."

As our conversation continued, an unexpected revelation emerged. Nancy's eyes shifted, and she lowered her gaze, a sea of blue peering out from underneath her busy brow. "I don’t remember seeing you there," she admitted.

Desperate for her belief, I pleaded, "I was there. On Henson Rd, right in front of the old oak tree, just before Devil’s Dip."

Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for any signs of deception or madness. Sniffing the air, she frowned, attempting to conceal her confusion. "Are you okay, Melvin?" she cautiously inquired.

Startled by her response, I reflexively touched my face, unsure of what she meant. "Yes, I’m fine," I snapped back, my frustration boiling. "Why do you ask?" The question hung in the air, revealing my vulnerability.

"Because," she began, her voice softening, "I was talking about the swimming pool."

"The swimming pool," I exclaimed, taken aback.

"Yes," she affirmed, her voice trailing off. "They finally fixed the heat pump."

Realization crashed over me like a tidal wave, shattering my sense of understanding. "The heat pump," I murmured in disbelief.

With a tinge of disappointment, Nancy sensed my brokenness and retreated, leaving me alone with my fragmented experience once again.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I slumped onto the couch, too weary to even transform it into a bed. But sleep did not come easily, as a hunger for gossip gnawed at my brain, intertwining with the uneasiness in my stomach. I yearned for juicy tidbits to share, desperately seeking someone to listen.

Amid the swirling thoughts in my mind, a vision materialized before me—a vision of Nancy taking a shower while Mr. Park, the complex manager, clandestinely observed through a hidden camera in her bathroom.

Interrupting my reverie, the phone rang, and my mother's name illuminated the screen. I answered with a dry tone, not mustering much enthusiasm.

"Wow," my mother exclaimed in her characteristically dramatic fashion. "Is this all the enthusiasm you can muster for the woman who nearly died giving birth to you?"

Apologizing, I attempted to sound sincere. "Sorry, Mother. I just have a lot on my mind this morning."

"Tell me about it," she urged, sensing my unease.

And so, I began to spill the beans, starting with Nancy's trip to the swimming pool and the repaired heat pump. As I delved deeper into the details, my mother's interest grew, spurring me on. We dissected the shortcomings of the previous management, decrying them as slumlords.

Finally, I couldn't resist the urge any longer. "Girlll, you got that right," I exclaimed, succumbing to the compulsive phrase that seems to escape the lips of gossip enthusiasts.

"Go on," my mother prodded, her curiosity piqued.

"Now here's the juicy part," I whispered into the phone, drawing closer to capture her attention. "Mr. Park, the new complex manager..."

"Oh, he sounds like a devil," my mother interjected rhythmically.

"Girlll," I couldn't help but respond, giving in to the moment. "She went home to take a shower, and he had a damn camera hidden in her bathroom, watching her."

"Oh," my mother hollered, her voice reflecting the impact of the revelation. "That son-of-a-bitch."

A knock at the door jolted me from our conversation. "Someone's at the door," I informed my mother.

"Okay," she replied, sounding uncharacteristically cheerful. "But son," she paused, her voice filled with unexpected tenderness, "I love you."

The weight of those words hit me like an F-bomb in church. It took a fabricated vision to elicit those three little words from my mother—a realization that left me feeling both unsettled and guilty.

Opening the door, I was greeted by my next-door neighbor, Felix, who burst into my apartment exclaiming, "You won't believe what happened!" The aroma of a peculiar scent hung in the air, capturing his attention. "What's that funny smell?" he asked, bewildered.

Eager for more gossip, I prodded him to continue, and he launched into a tale involving Mr. Park, the complex manager.

"The complex manager?" I echoed, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over me.

"Mm-hmm," Felix nodded, his elongated face revealing his anticipation.

"Go ahead," I urged, my excitement mounting, resisting the urge to call him "girlll."

"His wife walked in and caught him in the act," Felix declared, his voice dripping with the delight of a seasoned gossip.

The initial excitement waned within me, replaced by a disconcerting feeling that seeped into my soul. "And what was he looking at?" I asked, my voice devoid of emotion, my enthusiasm drained.

"Nacy, naked, in the shower," spilled out of my mouth, the words hollow and weary.

"Someone already told you?" Felix questioned, disappointment flickering across his face.

"I have some things I need to take care of," I said, deflated.

"But how did you know?" Felix inquired, his confusion etched on his face. "I was in the office when it happened."

"Can you be..." he trailed off, shaking his head, his mop-top-perm swaying back and forth. "Are you psychic?" His final question lingered in the air as I gently took his thin arm, guiding him away from the door. With a gentle push, I closed it and leaned against it, allowing the weight of the recent events to settle upon me.

"I don't know," I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible. "Am I a psychic?" Uncertainty crept in, joining the growing list of unanswered questions. Perhaps my experience was not merely a premonition, but rather a catalyst that set these events into motion.

As I pondered my newfound abilities—or curses—a knock resounded once again. "I'm tired of gossiping, Felix," I muttered through the door, my weariness seeping into my words.

An energy surged through the room, crackling like static electricity. The door quivered, then shimmered, before vanishing altogether. And there he stood—a cleverly dressed man in a purple pinstripe suit and matching hat. Resting on a cane adorned with a large purple diamond, he exuded an aura of otherworldly presence.

The door reappeared, this time with the man standing inside my apartment. Startled, I jumped as he removed his hat, revealing his true identity.

"Good morning, my dear sir," he greeted me, his voice possessing a metallic, rough quality, unfit for reading to children.

"What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?" I blurted out, unable to suppress my disbelief, even in the face of the Devil himself.

He sniffed the air, his gaze piercing through me. "You felt it," he stated, more a declaration than a question, before arranging his hat, cane, and coat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied apprehensively, my gaze shifting between him and my phone, contemplating whether to call the police.

He pushed his hands forward, a gesture of non-aggression. "Hey, let me introduce myself," he offered, taking a seat on the couch, his presence commanding attention. "My name is Lou Si Furr."

"Lucifer?" I interjected, my disbelief lingering.

"In one and the same," he confirmed, spreading his arms as if displaying his magnificence.

"Why on Earth would you be here?" I asked, a hint of pun intended.

Lou leaned back, disappointment clouding his features. The anticipation of a well-deserved raise seemed to dissipate within him. Yet, despite my encounters with the bizarre, the presence of the Devil sitting on my couch failed to astonish me.

"It appears you've had an encounter with one of my pets," he revealed, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Sorry," I said, confused. "I haven't had any encounters with animals."

"Sure you have," he chuckled, his tone sly. "Big, purple, in the sky," he pointed upwards with a long, dark finger.

"You mean that was a living creature?" I exclaimed defensively.

"Eartha, I call her," he proclaimed. His satisfaction grew as he realized that I had failed to grasp the true nature of the warm, frothy rain. It dawned on me—its origin lay within the body of a living organism.

"And what did that... thing do to me?" I mustered the courage to inquire.

"It showered you with love," he replied, his tone dripping with snide amusement. "And about a million of her fertilized eggs."

Disgust and horror washed over me, the thought of being impregnated by some sky-dwelling creature sending shivers down my spine. The need for a thorough shower consumed me, but an unseen force rooted me in place.

"N-N-Na..." I stammered, my voice progressively growing louder.

Lou leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine. I glimpsed unspeakable horrors within his coal-black gaze, yet deception did not reside there. "How else can you explain the urge to gossip?" he posed, his voice lingering in the air. "How can you explain your gossip coming true?"

"It only happened once," I defended myself, unsure of what I was defending against. Lou leaned back, scrutinizing me from the couch, his face screwing up as he glared, coal-black eyes penetrating my very soul.

"And yet, I know it happened," he concluded.

Contemplating the events, I weighed countless other explanations, desperately searching for alternatives that didn't involve being violated by a celestial creature.

"Look, we don't have much time," Lou interjected, rising from his seat. "The Big G doesn't appreciate crossbreeding, especially when it involves his precious humans and anything I create."

"What is that thing?" I implored, my voice filled with trepidation.

"It's one of nine biological manifestations of the least desirable human trait—gossip," he revealed.

"So, that thing is living gossip?" I asked, my dismay rising.

"With the power to make gossip come true," he added, a touch of pride in his voice.

"What did it want with me?" I questioned, my panic mounting.

"This often occurs during mating season," Lou explained.

"Mating?" I screamed, my horror intensifying.

"No, no, no," he reassured, waving his hands in front of him, dispelling any notion of physical copulation. "It never mated with you." The mere thought made me shudder.

"Didn't you hear me? She showered you with millions of her fertilized eggs," he clarified, his words sending chills down my spine.

"Now quickly," he commanded, retrieving his cane. The purple diamond flashed, and a chilling sensation coursed through my body. It felt as if a part of me was being forcibly torn away by an unforgiving, unseen force. I sensed the Devil's rage, his scorn, tugging at my soul. My very being strained to hold on to this world, until everything faded into nothingness.

And then, I jolted awake, gasping for breath, my body thrashing in the air. When the swinging ceased, I realized everything appeared normal once again. The urge to gossip had dissipated, the uneasiness in my stomach had vanished, and my life seemed to return to its mundane existence—except for the nagging feeling that something was amiss.

As I stepped into the shower, the warmth of the water gave me pause. Yet, I quickly dismissed any lingering doubts, convincing myself that the previous day had been nothing more than a vivid nightmare I had no desire to relive.

In the shower, Melvin whistled a cheerful tune, the sound blending with the cascading water. Unbeknownst to him, a tiny, squishy pearl-like egg rolled its way toward the bathroom, slipping underneath the door, unnoticed and forgotten.