Rain Rain, Go Away

It is not very often I think of the old house. But when I do I have a story to tell.

A rainy night, the pattering of a drip from the faucets of heaven, cascading down in torrents of undesirable magnitude. To be honest, I love the rain, but this rain, I came to hate. Anyway, the waterfall outside my house was never giving up; that’s what I thought. I was splayed out on my leathery chair, the seams of the sewing slowly but surely unraveling in their last attempts of holding one more session of my reading. I laid my book down on the rickety little table near the chair to hear the rain hitting the drain and then being drowned out by its own intensity.

              

The window I faced and the window I would remember, stitched in the greater of my mind, would horrify me to this day. Pressing the book against the table, I peered out. Not being able to see much at all, I lead myself to the window to look into the night’s greatest show. Darkness had overcome the streets lights and pavement indentations, leaving only an assumption of where they might be. A face came through the window, its teeth rarer than a steak for dinner. The eyes a horrid shade of orange. The hideous face, oh what the hell was it? Being sprawled out on the floor from the shock of the visitor outside my window, I looked up again. The veins in my eyes burst from the pain of looking at it. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing, but I can assure you, the face was disgusting, a disgusting cross between a toad sewn together with a spider, both in quality and quantity, not for my benefit. It stood its own ground, never moving, but only sneering its great lips, stained in the blood of thousand-fold, for all I knew maybe ten thousand-fold. Then it was gone, just like that.

              

I woke with a start, sweat beading down from my forehead. Luckily this was just a nightmare. But then again, some nightmares come from real events.