Drip Drip Drip

Mother left for her night shift at the hospital just a few minutes ago. It hasn’t been long, yet an unsettling knot is forming in my stomach.

My hair stood on end, and my skin felt ice-cold despite the warmth of the house. The wooden floor creaked beneath my feet as I wandered toward my room. My German Shepherd, Zavion, followed closely behind, his presence instilling a sense of comfort in my uneasy heart.

I noticed the bathroom light glowing down the hallway across from my room. As I approached the slightly ajar door, the light began to flicker, casting long, trembling shadows along the corridor. I reached the bathroom and turned off the light, only to sprint back to my room as quickly as my legs would carry me, driven by a primal fear of the dark. I dashed across the hall, leaped through my doorway, and tumbled into bed, pulling the sheets tightly around me.

Zavion quickly settled into his familiar spot on the floor near my head. I recalled when he was a puppy, lying next to me during thunderstorms. My hand dangled off the bed, and he licked it goodnight. I patted his head and succumbed to a deep slumber.

Drip, drip, drip.

I awoke to the sound of water dripping from the bathroom faucet across the hall. Reaching down, I felt Zavion’s warm tongue reassuringly lick my hand.

I’m fine; this is just paranoia. Right?

I dozed off again, dreaming of frolicking through flower fields with my mother and Zavion, their joyful faces flashing through my mind.

Drip, drip, drip.

Once more, I was stirred awake by the persistent dripping. Half-asleep, I reached down to receive another reassuring lick from Zavion, allowing me the peace of mind to drift back into slumber.

Drip, drip, drip.

I awoke again, this time with a sickening feeling churning deep within my stomach.

“Zavion?”

There was no response. I hesitantly rose from my bed and stumbled across the hall toward the bathroom.

Drip, drip, drip.

My curiosity intensified as I approached the bathroom door. Pushing it open further, I reached for the light switch.

A scream escaped my lips, and pure terror coursed through my body as I beheld the gruesome scene before me. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the cold, damp air. Zavion hung lifelessly from the shower curtain, his body grotesquely suspended. Thick, red blood dripped from his soft fur onto the floor below. His shattered leg protruded at unnatural angles, the skin torn apart, creating a small pool of crimson beneath his cold form.

How could this have happened? He was perfectly fine just moments ago. If Zavion is dead, then who—or what—licked my hand?

The wooden floor creaked ominously as something approached me from behind. A low, chilling voice slithered out of the darkness, beckoning me.

“Humans can lick too.”