Scared Yet?

Drip, Drip

This is a story that is often told within my friend group, and I may or may not have borrowed it from a friend... (But the actual origin is unknown to me). I thought, what a perfect way to start of this book, with a classic.

So anyway, enjoy, and try not to scream too loudly, for you never know who is watching...

(It might even be me *wink*)

~Heather

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Anne was a happy girl. She lived with a happy family, in a happy house, in a happy little town called Brooks. She had no siblings, but to make it up to her, Anne's parents had bought her a dog for her tenth birthday. They had grown to be quite good friends since she'd had him since he was a puppy. Every night when she would go to bed, her dog, who they called Scruffy (though he referred to himself as John), would lay under her bed, and if she ever grew scared of the shadows in the corners of her room,  she would drop her hand past the edge of the bed, and Scruffy would lick it comfortingly. This he had done so faithfully for three years now, and though she was past the age of being scared by corners, she still let him lick her hand almost every night, by way of tradition, so to speak.

Now there was one night, the thirteenth of June, just past her thirteenth birthday, when Anne went to bed as always. "Well now, what's so strange about that?" you say. And nothing was strange about that at all, except for the fact that all evening, Anne had felt like something wasn't right. Something was out of place. Something was missing. 

Now, Anne wouldn't call this fear. She was thirteen, after all, and teenagers didn't get scared (or so she had been told). No, no. Anne would call this uneasiness. Granted, it probably would have grown into fear had she lingered on the thought much longer, but after a few seconds, she banished it to the back of her mind.

And so she went to bed as always, her dog giving her a quick lick before she sank into sleep.

But not for long.

Anne soon found herself awakened by a steady, quiet sound. It took her a moment to realize what woke her, but when she did, her fear soon vanished.

Drip, drip.

Drip, drip.

Drip, drip.

It must have been just a faucet somewhere that hadn't been shut off all the way, she thought. She considered waking her parents up, but she was thirteen, surely she could close a faucet on her own. 

Anne listened for a moment, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the dripping noises, but she couldn't. The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere, from outside, from the hallway (in both directions), and from downstairs all at the same time. 

Anne slowly crept her hand down to the edge of the bed, feeling the comforting warmth of her dog licking her hand.

She shrugged. Surely the noise was just echoing through the hallway, right?

So Anne grabbed her flashlight and decided to go downstairs and check the kitchen. She opened the bedroom door, clicking her flashlight on, and stepped into the hallway. The noise got louder, as expected, but nearly twice as loud. Not expected. She walked quickly down the hallway to the stairs, wanting to get back to the comfort and warmth of her bed. 

Upon reaching the kitchen, she looked to see the sink faucet dripping.

Drip, drip.

Drip, drip.

She smiled. That was simple, wasn't it? She turned the water off and hurried back upstairs to bed, settling back in for the rest of the night's sleep.

But not for long.

Once again, Anne was awakened by a constant dripping noise, the same one as before.

Drip, drip.

Drip, drip.

Drip, drip.

Anne frowned again. Maybe she should check the water hose outside. That's where it seemed to be coming from this time, after all. Anne knew she wasn't allowed outside after dark, for she lived in the city, and bad things happen after dark in the city. But Anne decided that she would only be outside for a mere minute or two. What could happen? Anne stuck her hand under the bed for a courage-injecting lick, and once again, she grabbed her flashlight, clicked it on, and headed back downstairs toward the back door.

As Anne looked around, she saw the faucet that the water hose was normally connected to. Sure enough, it was dripping drop by drop onto the stonework below. She sighed in annoyance. Her mother always forgot to turn the faucet off all the way. She paced over, shivering in the cold, and turned the water off. She ran back inside, nearly slamming the door, and scurried up the stairs like a mouse running away from a mouse. By this time, it was nearly one o'clock in the morning, and Anne was desperate from some rest. She curled up under her blankets and counted sheep until she fell asleep once again.

But not for long.

Once again, Anne awoke, quite irked by the dripping that seemed to never end. She almost left the noise alone, but this time the noise was unbearably louder than the first two times. So, Anne sighed, stuck her hand under the bed for a quick lick, and clicked her flashlight on. She decided that the sound was coming from the bathroom down the hallway. She walked, rather impatient with her family for leaving all of these faucets running, and arrived at the bathroom door.

She paused for a moment. That feeling had returned. You know, the one from earlier, where something seemed just out of place. She shook her head to clear the thought. It's just the dark getting to you, she thought, and besides your tired, too, so your brain is slightly more "petrified" than normal, if that is the correct term. Anne had read that in one of her father's science magazines that he got every month.

She grabbed the doorknob, twisting it slowly so she didn't wake anybody up, and slowly crept inside.

She screamed. A horrifying, bloodcurdling scream, that woke not only her parents, but her neighbors, and their neighbors, and their neighbors after that. 

What she saw absolutely horrified her.

There, hanging on the shower curtain rod, was Scruffy. His throat had been slit, and his dark scarlet blood was dripping into the tub below.

Drip, drip.

Drip, drip.

Drip, drip.

She stood in horror, staring at her poor dog, hanging by his collar, as her parents came rushing down the hall to see what was the matter.

But as she turned, she saw the message on the wall. It was probably the most terrifying thing of all, and not only because it was written in her beloved dog's blood, but because of what it said.

People lick fingers, too.

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So I wonderfully decided that I was going to write this IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FREAKING NIGHT. HOW STUPID CAN I GET?!?!?!?!

So here I am, hyper-aware to practically every freaking noise in the house, and I'm nearly going to have a freaking heart attack. So I hope this story had the same affect on you. Not the heart attack, I mean the scared part. (I've been told that heart attacks are actually bad things, contrary to my prior belief. I'm still not convinced they're that terrible.)

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Plz, vote and comment, cause that makes my depressed little world happy for once! And if you have any questions about me or writing or anything, I'll probably do some sort of Q&A thing sometime, depending on if people actually read this or not. 

~Heather