Prologue
Ice cold water swirled around a bloated corpse as it hung there in the murky depths, plants from the bottom swaying in the current and trailing along the dead man’s ankles. His bulging eyes were wide and staring, and every now and then, a couple of bubbles would escape out of his open mouth, which was positioned in a silent scream.
The water swirled more violently, and a moment later, Newman Brady was waking up in a cold sweat in his bedroom. He glanced to his sleeping wife beside him, and then with a sig, climbed out of bed. The dream of drowning had been so real and terrifying, and he couldn’t seem to shake the crawling feeling that was creeping up his back.
Maybe a glass of water would calm his nerves.
He soon found himself in the kitchen, getting some refreshment from the tap, when he thought he heard something. He turned the sinik off and paused.
“Is that you Martha?” he called out softly.
No answer.
Newman walked over to the door and flicked the light switch to find that it wouldn’t turn on.
Guess he’d have to check the lightbulb in the morning.
He turned to go back to bed when he suddenly heard a squeak followed by the sound of running water. Confused, Newman walked back over the sink and turned the water off. He was positive he hadn’t left it running. Was it broken?
Maybe he was just tired…
Then, before his eyes, the knob turned itself, causing the water to come out again.
Newman blinked in surprise.
Maybe he was more tired than he thought…
Obstinately, he turned the water off again and waited. There was a low rumble and creaking sound, and then without warning, the faucet popped off and started spraying water everywhere. The man cursed, looking for some way to stop it as it shot itself in his face. He stepped back grumpily, now soaking wet, and squished his way to the kitchen closet as the sink continued to make a mess. He had some tools there that would probably do the trick.
He come to a halt when he noticed water trickling out from under the closet door. He could hear that soft rumble and creaking from before, and for a moment, he got a metallic taste in his mouth.
He turned, as all at once, all three doorknobs in the room jiggled and then turn at the same time. When the doors burst open, water came rushing in as if he were at the bottom of a sinking ship. His scream was filled with water as the dark torrent swirled around him.
The next morning, his wife came into a dry kitchen with a working light and sink, only to find her husband’s wet, bloated, corpse sprawled over the kitchen table...
