C
Colleen
Guest
I wrote it one night after washing my hair under my bathtub faucet. To do this, I have to put my back to the door and lean over the tub to wash my hair. In the meantime, I can only hear the water pouring in my ear and therefore, wouldn't be able to hear if anyone had come into the bathroom. Like I said, it was very late and I get frightened all of a sudden while washing my hair and feel this urge to turn around to see if anyone has come in, like an intruder. Here it goes:
Drip, drip, drip
Lengthened nails scrape good the scalp to wash the dirty hair, underneath the faucet running, drip, drip, drip.
Sleeping in the other rooms, dark shadows twisting through the walls into my bathroom mirror haunting whispers in my ear.
The presence of the shadow’s felt and I am made to jolt about the bathtub as I drape my hairs beside my face to turn and tremble, water wastes – the stream now flowing fast down drain – but turning back around again I see no threatening image past my own pale face aquiver.
Closing eyes and once more down my head is close to metal, round the faucet warm and louder, nothing but drip, drip, drip.
Stolen on the bathroom tile, lurks the phantom gripping firm the bludgeon that I know he’s hidden deeper in the walls forbidden, powered by the shadows twisting through the walls – once more the shivered spine recalls the specter tracing carefully along the corridor behind me.
And turning back before the break of neck and head and flesh can take the splintering of bludgeon raking gently on my body bent – but I alone must laugh aloud as fantasy and tales abound – why would I die here lying now before my bathroom tub?
Laughter turns to screaming in the midnight bathroom peering round my shoulder, back to face the demon’s bludgeon through the water’s pool below. The sounds of tearing skin above the faucet running thin into the warmer deeper colors of a murky velvet red.
Into the tub I lay and until morning I will stay floating calmly as I may now that I cannot move for life. The presence slinking way turns once more on me to say through his wicked mimic whispers final drip, drip, drip.
Drip, drip, drip
Lengthened nails scrape good the scalp to wash the dirty hair, underneath the faucet running, drip, drip, drip.
Sleeping in the other rooms, dark shadows twisting through the walls into my bathroom mirror haunting whispers in my ear.
The presence of the shadow’s felt and I am made to jolt about the bathtub as I drape my hairs beside my face to turn and tremble, water wastes – the stream now flowing fast down drain – but turning back around again I see no threatening image past my own pale face aquiver.
Closing eyes and once more down my head is close to metal, round the faucet warm and louder, nothing but drip, drip, drip.
Stolen on the bathroom tile, lurks the phantom gripping firm the bludgeon that I know he’s hidden deeper in the walls forbidden, powered by the shadows twisting through the walls – once more the shivered spine recalls the specter tracing carefully along the corridor behind me.
And turning back before the break of neck and head and flesh can take the splintering of bludgeon raking gently on my body bent – but I alone must laugh aloud as fantasy and tales abound – why would I die here lying now before my bathroom tub?
Laughter turns to screaming in the midnight bathroom peering round my shoulder, back to face the demon’s bludgeon through the water’s pool below. The sounds of tearing skin above the faucet running thin into the warmer deeper colors of a murky velvet red.
Into the tub I lay and until morning I will stay floating calmly as I may now that I cannot move for life. The presence slinking way turns once more on me to say through his wicked mimic whispers final drip, drip, drip.