Forgotten Post #16: “The Drip”-short story

It was the drip that started it all. It’s an amazing word, don’t you think, both a word and a sound. Drip, drip, drip…it was intoxicating. The sound of it on the pavement drew me in, as I watched the sound come to life with every single drop. It wasn’t like the rain that fell, or the sound of a leaky faucet. It was special, how it created life out of what was ending. I think if you had been there, you’d understand.

I was little. It had been an accident, but I remember watching each falling drop create the drip that drowned the sirens and the screams. They later had to put a cast on my arm to stop me from re-creating the drip, but they didn’t understand. They still don’t. They don’t understand how the sound reverberates so deeply in my soul. It’s soothing, melodic…intoxicating.

Please believe me, I’ve tried…tried so hard to re-create the drip. Re-create the drip without the accident but I couldn’t. I couldn’t without those variables, so you have to understand why. Why I have to do what I’m doing, because I need to hear the drip. It calms this…thing…in me. I don’t like this thing. I don’t think it existed before the accident, but when I saw what was causing that beautiful sound, it found its opening and made its home within me. I learned very quickly that I couldn’t control it; couldn’t…contain it within my own self without creating chaos. Chaos is bad you know, real bad. I have to create order. It’s the right thing to do, can’t you see that?

You just can’t understand. How could you? How could you understand the hunger for the one thing that completes you? How could you understand how it feels like to be so hated by society that the minute they find out what you are, they’ll kill you. No, no it is better this way. This way I am free, and I can hear the sound…the sound that sates this thirst that burns every inch of my skin. I need it, and only you can give it to me.

Shuuush…I know it is scary, but think of it this way, you will be giving me what I need to survive this next year without having to do this to make it right. You are, in a sense, a hero.

I just…I have to hear it…I have to…don’t worry…you’ll get to hear it too, for a little bit at least. Feel blessed, this is a beautiful thing…shuuuussh

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