Reddit: r/nosleep

PART XIX: When It Rains, It Pours

Lilian Madwhip

PART XIX: I'm Lily Madwhip and When It Rains, It Pours

I'm Lily Madwhip and When It Rains, It Pours

I'm standing in the rain, looking at the names on this polished gravestone in Holy Oaks Cemetery. There used to be one name on the marker, just ROGER T MADWHIP in all caps with "Beloved Son" in cursive underneath. Now, it says ROGER T and there's another name above it: KATHERINE B. Our family name MADWHIP is big and bold at the bottom. Somebody put some flowers in a little plastic vase beside the gravestone. I wonder if my dad did that. Maybe I did. This new me.

I should have brought an umbrella.

"Mama," I say to the stone, "It's me, Lily. I wrote you a letter, but it got all wet in the rain. I'm just gonna read it. Okay? Dear Mama, I miss you. I'm sorry I made you die. I promise I'll fix this. Please don't rot too much. Love, Lily." I pause. "Roger, I didn't write you anything, but you're not there anymore anyway. Where did you go? Are you with Hekate somewhere? Oh right, you can't hear me saying this. Uh... love, Lily."

I put the wet soggy letter under the plastic vase with the flowers in it.

"Hey, Lily, you want my umbrella?" asks Jamal, coming up behind me. He walked with me to the cemetery, which was a really long way to go but it gave me time to tell him about the bogeywoman and Hekate and the veil. I also told him that my mother hadn't died, that she had survived the car crash and that Hekate had done something to change things. I don't even remember her funeral. If you can't remember it happening, it's almost as good as if it didn't happen. I worry though... what if I wake up one day and remember it?

"I don't deserve an umbrella."

Jamal holds his black umbrella over my head. He's got on his yellow slicker and galoshes so the umbrella wasn't even crucial to him staying dry anyway. "You can't fight a witch queen if you've got pneumonia."

I sniffle and can't help but cry quietly, making sure not to shake or nothing so Jamal can't tell I'm doing it. "You sound just like her," I tell him after I've wiped my eyes.

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

We walk back in the rain together. Jamal lets me hold his umbrella. "I like feeling the rain on my raincoat anyway," he says, "next time you should wear a raincoat. Do I sound like your mom again?"

"Yeah. You can stop now."

At least I wore my boots. If I'd worn my sneakers, they'd be sopping wet and my socks too. I hate the feeling of wet socks squishing inside my shoes. Some rain got in the tops of my boots, but not enough to make my socks sopping wet. They're just a little damp. Damp is okay, squishy is not. Neither is pneumonia.

As we get near the neighborhood, I see a dark shape at the corner of my street. It's dog-shaped. I feel a bit of panic at first, but as we get closer I realize it's just a fire hydrant. I guess it wasn't really dog-shaped. Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me. Mom would say I'm seeing what I want to see, but if that were true, I'd see her standing at the door when I get home, but I don't.

I give Jamal back his umbrella once I'm on my porch. "What are you going to do now?" he asks, still standing in the rain. He tilts his head back to drink some rain right out of the air.