I have two drabbles today, plus a slighter longer story. Enjoy.
Leaking
Drip, drip, drip. Oh, how I hated that sound. No matter what, that tap would trickle its tiny drops, down, down, down. No matter what. Plumbers came, plumbers went, but it never got fixed. My fault really.
A little jazz, a little wine, and too much heartbreak. A bubble bath, and far too many pills.
I went to sleep, slipped under the water and never woke up. I never left either.
I’m still here, haunting this sad Vegas bathroom with a heart-shaped tub and memories of a cheating fiance.
Listening to that damn tap drip my tears down the drain.
Haunted
My husband never hears it, that dripping tap. All night, drip, drip, driving me crazy.
He thinks I’m imagining things.
He never hears the screaming child’s voice, either. But I only mentioned that once. Then shut my mouth, scared when he shot me an angry look. He doesn’t like it when I talk about kids.
But it’s not my imagination.
I can hear them both in my dreams. That little voice screaming, drowning under the bathtub tap as I held his head beneath the water.
My husband doesn’t know about that. He still thinks our son’s death was an accident.
Liquid Sight
Oil and water don’t mix, but they can make magic. That’s what Oliver tells me and I believe him. It looks more like salad dressing when I watch him do it, but I can’t deny the results. He knows things. Sees them in that swirling mixture of floating gloop.
Little things mostly, missing chickens, or lost things. Simple stuff. It’s the deaths that hit the hardest. Like the Parker boy getting struck by that car. Two days before it happened he saw. Told me all about it.
Sure made it easier for me to make his vision a reality. I can still hear the thump that kid made smacking against the fender. It was worth it though. The rubes flocked in after that to get his visions of the future. Of course, my man’s crazy, and can’t see no future. But they don’t need to know that.
Hey, a girl’s got to make a living somehow.
Be Afraid of the Dark 
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