Friday, September 23, 2011

Liquid Silence

Liquid Silence
By Nomar Knight

As I rested on my bed, counting paint cracks on the ceiling, a sound caught my attention. 
I thought, great, I either forgot to shut the faucet or some minor repairs would have to be made.
I was all set to investigate when I realized the sound wasn’t caused by water striking the sink. 
I remained still, concentrating on identifying the sound.  I don’t know why, but an urgency to solve a mystery ignited my penchant for adventure.  My mind raced with images as to what could have been causing the annoying sound. 
I noticed how the latest drop took longer and in fact, became louder.  My stomach churned.  Perspiration increased for I hadn’t noticed the fan had stopped working.  It appeared that the power went out.
“Thank goodness the sun’s not gone yet.”  I mumbled, doing my best to see the positive.
Once again I realized the impact of the drop of liquid.
“It’s not raining.” 
A thought popped into my mind.  I lived on the top floor and judging by the sickening silence in the neighborhood, the only possible explanation had to be rain. 
“Get up you chicken and look out the window.”
It got louder than the last time and it rattled my nerves.  I fought to rise from the bed, but for some reason, my head remained on the pillow.  I willed my arms to move, yet they remained on the mattress.
“What’s happening?”
I heard a tremor in my voice.
Images of blood, spreading on my linoleum covered floors, shook me to the core.  An overwhelming feeling of despair took hold of me.  I gasped trying to take in gobs of air.  I hadn’t realized that I wasn’t breathing. 
“Must get up.”
DRIP! Drip.
My eyes remained wide open.  It wasn’t until I blinked that I realized my stare never broke away from the ceiling’s cracks.  Had I hypnotized myself?  Was that even possible?
“Move it!”
Like a Master Sergeant, I ordered my body to cooperate.  The time to break the chains of immobility had finally arrived. 
“Get up you weasel!”
At last, my arms moved.  Slowly, I rose to a sitting position.  I waited until my breathing normalized, pleased to finally gaze at the open door.  Drawing enough strength to rise and make it through the threshold, I entered the hallway. 
I gazed down and spotted a puddle of water growing steady, nearing my bare feet. 
I followed the trail with my vision and spotted Lucinda, my dead wife, standing by the guest bedroom.  She stood naked and soaked from head to toe. 
I opened my mouth to scream, yet the only sounds I heard were…
The dark haired beauty floated towards me.  Her hands spread wide enough to wrap around my neck.
I breathed and yelled, “This is impossible!”
Her clammy fingers gripped my throat.  “Die, Cory!”  She hissed.
As she squeezed my life back to hell, I swore if my prince would give me another chance, next time, I’d burn the witch. 

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2011. All rights reserved.
A Knight Chills Flash Fiction Presentation.


  1. Hee hee hee, I liked this one very much, especially the ending.Hee hee hee, I liked this one very much, especially the ending.

  2. Blaze likes this! Some wives are drips in death as well as in life.


  3. Thanks Lisa. Great comment, Blaze. You're priceless!