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Drips

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A drop of rain fell on to the top of a window of a child’s bedroom and began to slowly slide down the glass. In fact, many drops of rain were falling in fast succession onto this window as above the house to which the window belonged, a large storm was unleashing its cold, unforgiving load onto the house and many others below it. However, inside the house it was a different story. In the smaller of the two bedrooms, a teenage boy slept quietly, and was blissfully unaware of the storm taking place above his head and snoozed happily, temporarily free from the realm of consciousness and all the terrible things in it, some of which he would eventually come to encounter. The boy’s eyes suddenly snapped open as he felt a strange, cold sensation around his lower legs. He sat upright and touched his legs. They were wet. His face creased into a frown as he pondered why this was. At 17 years of age, the bed-wetting stage was a thing of the past but no other rational explanation came immediately to mind. Rolling over and pulling on the cord for the light switch next to his bed, he found that he had in fact been dripped on from a small hole in his ceiling directly above his bed. Frowning, he lifted himself up and tip-toed toward the small ladder in his hallway leading up to the loft. Upon scaling the rungs and flicking the light switch, he came to see what appeared to be a large bottle of water tipped on its side and was dripping slowly down onto his bed through a hole in the ceiling. A feeling of terror that he had never before known suddenly lynched itself around the boys heart like the talons of an eagle gripping tightly at the mortal body of its helpless prey as his eyes gradually adjusted to the dark space around him and he realised what else was in his loft. The water bottle. Tinned food. Several Blankets. A thousand questions flashed through his mind as he thought what this could possibly mean. After a few minutes of standing stunned in the dark with a heart rate faster than a cheetah, the boy began to calm himself as he thought of more rational explanations for the items he saw. His mother could of put them up there as a type of emergency supply. Maybe she was organising a surprise party for his soon-to-arrive birthday, and that’s what the food was for. He smirked to himself silently in the dark as he thought back on the fact that for a split second he had believed there was somebody living right above his head. Ridiculous. He’d go down the hall and ask his mother about it though, just to be safe. He swiftly scaled the ladder and strolled along the hallway to his mothers room. Pushing the door open, the curious adolescent whispered into the darkness “Mum? Are you there? I need to ask you something.” receiving no reply, he panicked and quickly flicked on the light. Jane Grimshaw rolled over in her bed groaning, and mumbled “James? What do you want? Do you know how late it is?” James smiled at the sound of his mothers voice. It calmed him and quickly blew away the cobwebs of worry that had formed an intricate web over his brain. A slight wave of guilt ran over him, and he decided to talk to her in the morning instead about what he’d seen. Smiling apologetically, he said “Sorry. Thought I heard something. Just wanted to check you were alright” “Oh.” said Jane, her icy tone becoming somewhat warmer. “That’s sweet. Now. Off to bed, you.” James left the room and flicked the light switch off behind him. As he tip-toed back down the corridor towards his bedroom he realised he had become suddenly restless. When he arrived back in his room he grabbed his laptop and slid into his bed, ignoring the slight wet patch. He flicked the laptop open and logged on, where he proceeded to log on to his favourite website – a site containing a collection of many short horror stories. The light from his laptop illuminated his face, making him visible. Several feet above his head, a mans eye pressed greedily against the small, wet hole in the ceiling.

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