It Was a Dark and Stormy night

I can hear the water dripping in the ceilings. It puddles and spreads and drips down the walls of this old house.

No one believes me when I tell them the water is dripping, dripping.

So I do not tell them. I've stopped telling them.

They say they cannot hear it when they stop to listen.

They say they do not see the stains in the wallpaper where the water has been dripping down.

I see the discolored stains with their dark, jagged edges that mark the length the water has flowed.

I hear it now. The drip. Drip, drip.