The 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 kitchen. I had been filling the sink with water, finally getting around to washing my weeks-old moldy dishes. I had never been much good at taking care of things.

My mind had been circling endlessly in mundane thoughts, when I suddenly heard the first eerie, taunting drop, splash onto the tile. The noise fractured the quiet solitude of my home, shaking me into awareness.

Drip.

At first, I dismissed the noise as just a leaky pipe. 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 splash 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 to listen 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 summer storm outside had forced its way in through a crevice in the ceiling. However, it was still as bland 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... 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.

I whirled around and found more crimson droplets just inches from me. I looked at the ceiling again- not a single stain or mark to indicate any 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 specks! Fear and confusion warred inside of me as I struggled to understand. I lived alone; had someone invaded my house? Was this a prank? Who would come all the way out here to do that? Well, it was possible. I decided to call out to the unwelcome guest.

“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 stopped, and the air in my lungs released with a shudder. I crouched down to re-examine the spots on the floor, but when my fingers grazed over them, the drops felt old and dry. I stared at the tiles, trying to come up with a rational explanation.

"A bit of paint that was spilled on the floor, maybe… from the old tenant?" I reasoned with myself.

It’s possible someone may have made some renovations to the place, but there was nothing on record as far as the realtor knew. Still, 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… it 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. I chuckled nervously as I took an old rag to the floor, viciously scrubbing until all signs of the strange substance were gone. Then I tossed the rag- and its mysterious contents- down the laundry chute. I stalked back to the kitchen sink, determined to forget the creepy event, and continued with my melancholy day. Long, boring, apathetic minutes crawled by as I stared blankly out the window. I watched the rain pour on outside, my hands going through the motions as I stared out into the dreary weather: Wash. Rinse. Wash. Rinse. Wash-

Drip.

My heart stood silently 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, a lump of anxiety forming in my throat, only for that anxiety to become terror. The water had turned dark red. So dark… it looked black. I raised my arms as thick runs of scarlet trickled down to my elbows. I tried to let out a scream, but it was strangled by my panic. I raced to the linen closet in the hall, threw open the door, and ripped a towel from the shelf. I scrubbed desperately at my skin, soaking the white flannel, but the stains remained. I raced to the bathroom, grabbing a bottle of soap, and lathered it all over my arms. I watched the scarlet mix with lavender suds- the color mutating into a freakish magenta.

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 by my nails. I sank to the bathroom floor, leaning against the bathtub with heaving sighs. I lay there for some time, 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 rusted red.

"Maybe it is the pipes?" I told myself, turning on the tap to evaluate the flow, and it did splutter a bit, but the water ran clear.

"I’m losing it." I mumbled, draining the sink, and advising myself to make coffee plans with someone- anyone. I hadn’t engaged in human interaction in a while, maybe I was hallucinating? Or perhaps the moody 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, did they change their number?" I asked myself. I tried again. This time, the line didn’t connect at all. 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 a high ringing sound ruptured through the quiet, becoming more shrill and growing in size and weight until it was maddening. A thick presence invaded the air, like a scream crawling out of an abyss, then…

"Behind you."

Drip.

I spun around, preparing for some sinister intruder, the unsettling static clinging to the air, still spilling from the phone. The living room was dimly lit, so I turned in a slow, careful circle, scanning the dark corners, doorways- but there was nothing. And then, something eerie caught my eye. Nothing except… footprints. Deep, bloody pools crept from the kitchen, cutting across the living room carpet to stand right behind me. In a fit of hysterics, I scrambled for the back door- clawing at the locks like some wild, caged thing, and wrenched myself out into the stormy afternoon.

It was no longer raining, but the clouds still hung black and low. My skin was greeted with crisp, cold air like that of autumn- far too cold and foreign for this time of year- but I didn’t have time to think about it. I raced across frosted grass with bare feet, not daring to slow down or look back, until I had reached the fence at the edge of the property. I slammed into a stone post, clutching it mercilessly as my lungs starved for air, my breath heaving and catching in my chest. After a few moments, my vitals slowed, and the horror sunk into me like a sickness. Something was in my house.

I lived just outside of town. My workplace and other public areas were about a twenty-minute walk from my location- close enough that I hadn’t bothered to get a vehicle. A decision I was now deeply regretting. It had never been a problem until now. I knew that my vibrating legs would never carry me to refuge in time, not with… something… following close behind. Helplessness overwhelmed me, only to intensify with a sinking realization. If I couldn’t make the journey into town- and there were no other living beings to help- it left me with only one option; force myself to return to the house and get to the phone to call for help… before 'it' got to me. I was still agonizing between my possible paths of death when a low, howling wind reached through the trees, and what looked like ash began to fall from the sky. I watched the flecks 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 aloud, gazing dumbfounded, questioning the sky in its faulty judgement. Finally, I took note of the misty landscape surrounding me. The trees had become rough with scraggly branches, brown leaves floating beneath them on the mist. Distant sounds echoed on the air like ethereal wails, lending to the foreboding feeling that I was being pulled into the fog. I tried to process what my eyes were seeing, but it was impossible. Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t wait around to find out what. I summoned what little courage I had and strode back towards my beckoning tomb. Long, vapor-like fingers curling under my toes. The wind wailed and urged me back towards the fog, but I pushed onwards.

I stood trembling before the doorway, envisioning 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 snow tangled with mist, swarming in an angry flurry, I knew no help would come. I paused- took a deep breath- and stepped through the threshold. Standing in the living room, my hands shaking as my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I searched the area and blinked in disbelief… the footprints were gone. 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 both 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 raced out into the cold from nothing more than a nightmare.

I sank with deep relief onto the couch, and even though the inexplicable weather was still raging on outside, I was too drained to think or question anymore. It must be a dream. 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 dark evening seep in, but I didn’t care. I lay gazing with vacant eyes at my bare walls, blackness 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, f…a...l...l...i....n.....g.

Drip.

My eyes flew open.

I couldn’t remember waking, but somehow, I was now standing in the bedroom. My vision dragged over each corner of the room in confused circles, trying to make sense of where I was, until they caught something moving and fell on the mirror. I squinted, still half asleep and not entirely seeing at first, then my entire body screamed in horror, for there in the mirror… 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 hesitate.

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

“Help!” I screamed in desperation, 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. Suddenly, the same shrill ringing I’d heard through the phone earlier invaded the air. The ethereal noise grew, and a blanket of darkness wrapped around me- a sentient, heavy thing- 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 I heard its voice-

"Behind you."

Everything came to a sharp halt. The blackness that had been trying to engulf me now floated along the ceiling, deathly still. My senses heightened, as I felt someone watching me. Slowly, I turned towards the bathroom, the decaying being reflected in the wall mirror, gazing at me… waiting. I was afraid to tear my gaze from the creature, but forced myself to turn and look behind me, vibrating uncontrollably. But like every time previously, 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, but I had nothing of value, so what could I possibly offer? 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 a ridge of ruched flesh, and it led to a cavity near the back of my skull, where the tissue was flayed to one side. I traced one trembling forefinger over the opening and slipped it inside. 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 all at once, my sinister reality became clear. The ‘number’ I had been dialing- was my own. There was nothing in my home, it was just me, alone with my blood and my pain and my regret. A memory surfaced- a memory of a life I had hated. A life I would have given up for anything- if only the heartache would stop. The irony. In life I believed I had nothing. Now… I was nothing. Just a void of empty regret, a longing to be anything… anywhere… but here. I trudged slowly back to the bedroom, the gruesome being and bloody footsteps following in my wake. Finding the bed, I pulled back the covers, taking in the aged black stain that enshrouded the sheets. Another memory, a moment... that moment. When I’d heard the clink of hard steel and welcomed a fantasy. Ecstasy encasing me as my last thoughts melted away. Visions of bright lights and gold beings and warm hands, visions that flickered... and ended. Nothing could have prepared me for the cruel prison that awaited. Trapped in the same monotonous, mundane eternity inside a cold, empty house. The unending silence as my only company. 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 my back, 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? I was so, so tired. 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, and I sank into it, until the thoughts and memories folded together, and I couldn't tell one from the next. Deeper and deeper, I sank.

"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, heading for the kitchen and slamming into the sink. A feeling like vomit rose in my throat, but I swallowed it back down in panicked gulps. "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 amnesia invading my body, pulling me toward the bedroom, back into the void.

Drip. "No wait- please!"

Drip. "Stop… this isn’t what I wanted!”

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

Drip. “Why… am I?"

Drip. “Where…?”

Drip… drip… drip.

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