Drip, drop, drip, drop
Splatter and hiss.
This is what happens
When we miss.
Drip, drop, drip, drop,
Splatter and hiss.
Miss, miss, miss!
Sing a gaggle of kids as they weave in and out of clasped hands dodging the two trapped in the middle. Sonjia grimaces, glad that their mother is inside where she can’t hear her youngest singing along.
“Mari, come on, we need to go to market before that storm gets here,” says Sonjia pointing to the brown and yellow clouds on the horizon.
“Stop worrying, we’ve got buckets of time,” says Mari dodging and screaming gleefully, “Miss, miss, miss!” as a boy in the middle slaps at her missing.
“Now, Mari,” snaps Sonjia.
Mari peels away from her friends dragging her heels, “You’re as bad as mom, embarrassing much?” she grumbles stomping a few paces ahead shoulders hunched with anger.
Sonjia sighs. It’s not Mari’s fault she isn’t properly afraid. The slime green molted ground and black tree skeletons are the only world she knows. In Mari’s eyes those who get melted from the rain are just plain stupid or slow, the rest of the children revile the scared kids. A Darwinism. Even the adults, the ones caught outside unaware during the first rainfalls though pitied are regulated to work and live largely unseen.
Mari spins and faces Sonjia with her hands on her hips, “Do we even have anything worth trading today?”
“Open the bag smartass,” says Sonjia.
Mari eyes widen as she pulls out a thick white disk the size of a pie plate, “She finished them? They work?”
“Yep, not a hundred percent, but enough.”
Mari’s grin fades as Sonjia’s face turns into an angry mask of fear. Mari still sees nothing in the sky but then notices fog rising from ground cracks far worse than rain.
Sonjia yanks Mari’s hand pulling her down the road, frantically searching for a way up, a staircase, a fire escape, anything.
“The trees! Get to the trees,” screams Mari.
Sonjia makes a sharp right racing the fog burning the ground behind them. Grabbing Mari around the waist she tosses her high on the hope and prayer that she will find a branch. When the fog reaches Sonjia she hears a chorus of voices sing, “ Drip, drop, drip, drop, Splatter and hiss. This is what happens. When we miss.”
Inspired by: This week, use rain as the inspiration for your fiction or creative non-fiction piece. The word limit is 400.
Cameron said:
Holy crap! Scary stuff, and creepy evocative… the kids chanting is atmospheric and skin-crawly and the language is thick but light, much like your acid fog. Well done.
Jennifer Dillon said:
I feel like I accomplished something by surprising you. Ha.
jwilliams057 said:
Very scary. I like it started off child like and playful and then took a turn I didn’t expect.
Jennifer Dillon said:
Me too even as I was writing it.
Katie said:
Ooh. very otherworldly, I love the sing/song of the children. It is a scary world.
Jennifer Dillon said:
It is, but not for Mari.
Morgan Kellum said:
Aack! That made my skin crawl! It started out so playful, but the returning chorus is chilling. Creepy story, terrific writing. Well done. Visiting from WOE.
Jennifer Dillon said:
Muhaha. Excellent. Thanks very much.
Ai said:
Omygosh. You gave me goose bumps. What a direction to go in! Conjuring images of a post apocalyptic world. And the london-bridge-esque poem to make the children remember! Perfectly creepy.
Angela (@angelaamman) said:
I read this last night immediately before bed but didn’t comment because I was on my phone. I was so glad I was already in bed! I was picturing that fog curling out from under the furniture. So very creepy, especially with the little rhyming song.
Jennifer Dillon said:
I far exceeded my expectations for the creepy factor, and it has made responding to comments a little awkward because it feels mean to say, “I’m so glad you were huddled in your bed imagining deadly fog spilling out from under your bed.” But I am!
AmiGrey said:
Eerie…and the children’s song makes it even scarier! I like it!
cait said:
Love the premise, and the way you ended it is shiveringly good. I’m left with a hundred questions and a disturbing rhyme tickling my senses…”This is what happens. When we miss.”
stopping by from the RED link up
Jennifer Dillon said:
Thanks Cait, I’m glad you had questions and that the creepy nursery rhyme stuck…again a little weird to say so glad I got in your head and disturbed it…
shelton keys dunning said:
Oh chilling and bloody perfect! Pats on back and whoots.
Tina said:
Eeeeek! I guess poor Sonja did not make it high enough. This sort of reminded me of a Ray Bradbury short story–everything so normalized, but skewed, somehow. A great read!
awriterweavesatale said:
terrifying! But captivating. Nice work.
lexy3587 said:
So ominous! I can practically hear the song in horror-movie childrens’ voices.