AN: My editor has an allergy to drabbles and this was written within a one week period, so please forgive any mistakes.


It never goes past the shadow of the eaves. Normal rain mists past the boundaries of the porch's railing. It dampens the air and leaves the planks of wood dark and moist beneath her bare feet. The black drops fall straight down and when they hit the ground and splatter, the smaller droplets fling away from the house. Not a single spot of wood is stained.

Beneath the louder noises, there's a constant hiss, like a vampire that hasn't been invited in.