The Drains

Ever since I was little, I knew there was something wrong about the storm drains that lined my road. They were stealthy and silent. However, there was always the thought that if I listened long enough I may hear something begin to whisper. I never lingered long enough to hear though, because I was terrified. I could hardly stand to walk across them. Most of the time I would keep a long space between the eerie enigma and myself.

But the day I want to tell you about is the day that I slipped up. The day when I learned that monsters and demons really do exist. They lie in wait. They will find you. Just like they found me. I hope this story can save you.

I was ten years old. It was summer break; a time for running and climbing, tag and hide and seek… All of the fun things you do when age has not robbed you of your energy and carefree exuberance. Thankfully, I lived in a small town; so I had little to fear when it came to things like kidnapping or the usual big city crimes.

Forgive me. I hadn’t bothered to introduce myself. Too shaken up by the past for pleasantries. But I have to tell someone. My name is Michelle. I’m 22 years old now. I’m from a small town in Oklahoma. But- back to the story.

Like I said, it was summer break. My friends and I had played together in a field a few miles from my house throughout the day. I remember everything about that day. We built a little fort and played cowboys and Indians. It was a blast. We had so much fun that none of us had noticed the daylight slowly growing lesser. The shadows had crept up. It was time to go home before we were all grounded.

We said goodbye, and began the long walk home. Two of my friends stayed with me for a mile or two, but then had to turn on various streets for shortcuts. I didn’t mind. The sky was a bit overcast, but the air was warm and it wasn’t completely pitch black yet. The dark didn’t really phase me; because the dark was usually when you could see the brilliance of the stars that only people from the south seem to really appreciate.

It wasn’t until I turned onto my street that I felt uneasy. It felt like my stomach was twisted inside. That sick nausea of premonition. I knew something bad was going to happen. Because you could hear something moving quietly beneath the streets. But not too quietly, because it wanted to be heard.

I should have turned around, but I was young and the fear of punishment was more of an issue to me then. Anyway, I continued walking down the street, though at a slightly faster pace than before. Like every kid, I firmly believed that if you showed weakness by running, it would catch you. It was then that I heard the soft mewing of a kitten coming from the grate closest to me.

Now, one thing you must know about me before I go on is that I adore cats. I always have. So the thought of some poor baby trapped in the damp foreboding darkness is enough to make me do just about anything to help. I moved closer, my steps seemingly as loud as the crashing thud of my heartbeat. The mewing grew louder the closer I got. All I could think about was the poor little kitten, how cold and alone it must be.

I lowered myself onto my knees, straining to see in the dark. I saw a glint of green eyes staring back at me. “Don’t you worry kitty. I can get you out,” I said quietly, trying to soothe it the best I could. I started to reach inside, but hesitated. What if it wasn’t really a kitten? What if-

A loud yowl cut off my next thought. I relaxed a bit. It had to be a kitten. It needed my help and I was daydreaming about some childish monster. I leaned forward, calling out a few kitty kitties, and reaching as far as I could. Something slimy grasped my hand then, and yanked.

“Come play with me,” a raspy voice whispered. “Come here, and play with me.” I couldn’t speak. My breath had frozen in my lungs. All I could do was stare as a figure came out of the shadows.

It was grotesque. It was layered in some sort of mold, and was crouched menacingly. It’s eyes were the soft green ones I had mistaken for a cat’s. The rest of it appeared to be a dark green as well. The smile it wore will stay forever in my memory. It was terrible.

“I’ve missed you Michelle. I see you everyday, but you never stop and say helloooooo,” it rasped. I finally found myself again, and twisted my arm as hard as I could. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get away until I heard something snap wetly. I flew backwards, scraping myself up pretty good.

I didn’t care though. I flung myself to my feet and ran home. I ran so hard that I could feel my legs beginning to give out. I practically fell into my yard, where my worried mother ran to me and held me. I think she knew better than to ask, because I don’t think she’d have been able to believe me if she wanted to.

Later that night, after I had calmed down I went to take a shower. My arm was caked in dried slime, and the rest of me hadn’t fared any better. Mud was streaked everywhere. It was only after I cleaned off did I see the jagged burn the thing had left upon me. I still have the scar to this day.

I hope this story helps you, dear. The monsters that once lurked in your closet alone may be using the sewers to get from house to house. Take care, and watch your step.