The Window

“He’s late.” muttered my father, in between slurps of his coffee. I turned to him. “What are you talking about?”. No response. He just continued to stare out the window at the highway. “Whose late dad?”, I insisted. He took a final swig of his coffee, and set it down. “We need to close all the windows.” , he replied. “Dad, calm down it’s 96 degrees outside, and the car’s A/C is broken.” He then frantically reached over the wheel and fumbled around with the window buttons until I pushed him off, screaming “what’s wrong with you!”. That’s when I first saw it. It was a black drip on the windshield, almost like printer ink had fallen from the sky. Then another one and another one started coming,. A few drops came through the open window and stung my face. My dad had is head down, as I quickly shut the windows of the car. I pulled over to the side of the road, as the windshield was completely covered at this point. I could hear the honking of cars, and screeching of tires as others tried to navigate through the dark. “Dad, how did you know something was going to happen?” No response. I turned to him; he was still hunched over. I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned down to see if he was alright. He slowly rose, but to my horror in place of his eyes, were two giant black pools of ink, slowly dripping down his face. He reached out and grabbed my arm. It was freezing. I screamed, and leapt out of the car, running into the woods next to the highway. I felt the black rain stinging my skin as a ran, yet I continued to run with my eyes shut, getting constantly scraped by the sharp bushes and sticks strewn about the forest floor. I eventually came to a stop, as my legs felt like Jell-O. I wanted to sit down so badly, yet knew I couldn’t. I staggered a few steps and collapsed. My head on a nice pile of leaves, through the dark rain, I could see a figure in the distance, coming towards me slowly. I then heard a deep voice bellow “I’m here.” That’s when it all went black. “Jimmy, wake up! we are here.” My eyes slowly flickered open. My face was pressed up to the window of a car, and there was a dull soreness in my neck. I looked to my left and saw my father looking at me. I instinctively flinched. “Jim are you okay?”, he asked. “Yeah I’m fine.” He gave me a puzzled look, and got out of the car. “It was just a scary dream”, I thought to myself. I hopped out of the car, and jogged to catch up with my Dad, failing to notice the trail of black drops, I was tracking behind me.