[#064] Four and a Half Days

I counted down another hour by the dripping from the cracks in the floorboards overhead.

Four days, fourteen hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-one seconds. Twenty-two seconds. Twenty-three.

Four and a half days left in darkness since the door shut behind me. Four and a half days since I first heard the voice singing in the corner of the cellar. I'd come down to investigate, and...

I still hear it from time to time, four days after the rain began to fall so hard it shattered windows in the floors above, sweeping through my home and washing away the tokens of my life. Four days since I heard the roof crash down and turn my plants and photographs and memories to dust. Anybody passing by now would see a wreckage, and they'd never think to check the basement even if they see the door.

Because who hides in the basement just before a flood? Who survives?

Me, that's who. And them, whomever still sings in the corner at all hours of the night. I might have drowned in the water if they hadn't called my name. But now, after four days, fourteen hours, seventeen minutes, and seven seconds...

I wish they'd just kill me or shut up.