Original Story - Rain, Heavy on the Windows

Finally, after a few false starts and a ridiculous amount of procrastination, I’ve started writing again.

Instead of diving into a full-blown story, I’m going through my list of writing prompts and focussing more on practicing to get back into the swing of writing.

This snippet of a story came together a few evenings ago and I liked it enough to polish it up for the blog. I’ve used the writing prompt as the title.

A funny little aside – I managed to spook myself while writing it!

Image by Andrey_and_Lesya on Pixabay

Rain, Heavy on the Windows

The rain appeared without warning.

One moment it was sunny with not a cloud in the clear, blue sky. Next minute, a torrent of water came bucketing down.

Millie stared, almost hypnotised by the sight of the rain, heavy on the windows, turning the outside into a blurry watercolour painting.

“Clothes!” she yelled, breaking the spell, as she flung her book down and leapt out of the chair.

Racing out the back door, shoulders drawn up as if that would somehow keep the rain off, she slowed to a mincing trot. The faster she tried to remove the washing from the line, the longer she stayed in the deluge as the pegs refused to relinquish their hold on the clothes.

Finally, her arms full of sodden material, she turned, slipped and went down on one knee. To her dismay, the clothes ended up trailing on the ground.

Tears mingling with rain, she gathered them up, got to her feet and dragged herself in, no longer rushing. Dumping them on the floor, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, feeling sorry for herself. She glared at the clothes as she rubbed her knee, as if they were to blame for the rain and her sore knee.

About to shut the door, she stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

Standing on the path on the other side of the fence was a figure, barely visible through the sheeting rain. It stood, unmoving.

Millie was sure the person was looking directly at her. Unnerved, she quickly shut the door and locked it.

After a pause, she looked out the back window; the figure was still there.

A finger of ice traced a line down her spine. Heedless of her soggy state, she ran to the front door and checked to make sure it was locked. Standing on the balls of her feet, she fumbled with the bolt at the top of the door before finally sliding it shut.

Stepping back, Millie nodded at the door, as if assuring herself of its solid protection.

Her gaze flicked to the narrow window by the door. Not really knowing why, she stepped to it and peered out before falling back, hands clasped over her mouth.

Standing a few yards to the left of the front gate was another figure. Even though it was difficult to tell for sure through the pouring rain, she was sure that one was also looking at the house.

Grimacing against her thudding heart, she kept backing away until the backs of her legs connected with a low table.

Then she raced around the house, bumping into furniture, to make sure all the windows were secure. She even pulled the curtains shut with such force, she almost ripped one off the rail.

Creeping into the kitchen, staying close to the wall, she edged her way around to the window. She glanced out quickly before chancing a longer look. The figure was no longer there. Her shoulders sagged with relief.

‘It’s just one, not two,’ she thought. ‘But if he stays at the front, I can’t leave…’ The small lane at the back of the property led to the river and farmland beyond.

“I’ll call David,” she mumbled as she scuttled back to the front room where her phone lay on the coffee table.

About to press the speed-dial button for his number, she froze, eyes stretched wide.

The front door handle turned. Someone was trying to get in.

She pressed the phone against her mouth.

Someone banged on the door.

The phone rang.

She yelped. Dropped it.

Someone was calling her name.

Struggling to corral her wild thoughts, it slowly dawned on her she recognised the voice calling her even as her frantic gaze made sense of the caller’s name on her phone.

“David…?” she whispered before grabbing the phone and pressing it to her ear.

“Millie?”

Hearing his voice so close robbed her of hers.

“Millie? Where are you?”

“Home, I’m home. David–”

“Why is the door bolted? I’m getting soaked out here.”

“You-you’re at the door...”

“Yes.” The sharpness of his tone mirrored his irritation. “Come on, stop messing about. Unlock the door.”

Fighting to her feet, she stumbled to the door and undid the bolt, almost falling over as he pushed it open.

Dripping wet, he looked far from pleased.

Ignoring him, she peered over his shoulder. The figure was still there. “How did you… who is that?”

His frown deepened. “Who?”

“That person. Just standing there, staring.”

Twisting to look back the way he’d come, he turned back to face her, his frown disappearing to be replaced by a slack jaw. “Are you serious?”

Annoyed, it was her turn to frown. “I’m scared. What do they want?”

“Millie.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s a tree.”

She jerked away. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Taking her by the hand, he pulled her out and half-dragged her to the gate. “See?”

He was right; it was a tree.

“But-but it looked just like…” She shook her head, bewildered.

His expression softened as he pulled her into an embrace, the rain gradually lessening to a steady drizzle. “Oh, Millie. You and your vivid imagination.” He kissed the top of her head.

Her arm around his waist, she walked with him back to their house, shaking her head at her foolishness. ‘Maybe I should stop reading those psychological horrors…’ she thought with a rueful smile.

It wasn’t until later that night, on the verge of sleep against the comforting warmth of David, did the realisation jolt her fully awake; she bit down on the blanket to stop the scream bubbling up inside her.

The tree outside their gate was on the right; the figure she’d seen had been standing on the left.