The Rain

IT rained the whole day. The sky was thick with dark clouds and hay-wired by lightning. Some of the streets were flooded. People with no umbrellas scampered like scared mice seeking cover from the heavy downpour.

Anna walked hurriedly towards the overpass as the rain pounded on her umbrella. Her face was most with splashes from the rain. Her legs were wet. She felt cold despite her sweatshirt.

She ascended the overpass (that did not have a roof) and hurried for the other side across the street. Then something red dropped in front of her. It splattered on the wet concrete and mixed with the rainwater inches away from her feet. Blood? She wondered. A thick splatter hit her umbrella. She looked up and saw it. From the sky came a downpour of red. It splattered everywhere, making everything red. She held her hand out and it was immediately turned red by the red rain. She felt it – thick and smooth. Her nose caught the salty smell. It was blood! It was raining blood! Blood was everywhere. In the streets, the trees, the building, everywhere.

In the streets cars collided against each other; the drivers taken aback by the rain of blood. People were screaming. Sirens wailed. Panic was everywhere.

Anna stood frozen. Her shoes; her legs were red with blood. spots of blood hung on her clothes. Her face was moist with splashes of blood. The air was putrid with the smell of blood. She remained unmoving while the rain raged on. A rain of blood.


The Vandal

TODD chuckled as he uncapped the permanent marker.

“Oh boy, this would make a perfect mark on the wall,” he thought to himself, glancing at the smooth and clean surface of the cubicle’s wall. It would surely make the janitor freak out. He chuckled again and aimed the marker’s point at the wall as if it was a dart ready to hit the desired target.

Then, something dropped beside him. He turned and what he saw made him pee again. It was a woman in white hanging upside-down. The face was pallid and rotten and the eyes were burning red. The dried lips parted and released a horrific shriek that filled his ears.

“The hell are you doing?!” it blasted at him.

He tried to scream but nothing came out of his mouth. The ghost’s maniacal laughter was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness.


The Hero

SHE elbowed her way to get to the center of attraction. She did not mind the eyes that glared at her, and her boyfriend who was probably stuck behind. All that mattered was for her to reach her goal. Like the rest of the crowd, she was there to see him – the mysterious flying guy who saved a crashing airplane; the guy who saved lives during a flood in some parts of the country. She admired the guy, admired him so much that her boyfriend started to become jealous. And now there he was – in person.

Just an hour earlier she witnessed how he fought the monstrous thing that appeared out of nowhere and unleashed havoc in the city. The guy was to destroy the creature but suffered serious injuries which caused him to collapse in the middle of the street and become the public’s center of attention.

She saw him. He was kneeling on the concrete road and was vomiting blood. A gaping wound in his chest was spilling blood. there were deep cuts on his extremities and on his head. Though his mask came off she could not see his face, for it was covered by his hair matted with dried blood. He was coughing. People and the media with their cameras and mics on the ready approached but he warded them off with his bloody hand. Two cops were there but they did not touch him. Instead they were clearing the crowd away from him.

“Give the guy a break will you?! He’s a hero for God’s sake!” one of the cops barked at the curious crowd.

Then he looked up. His gloomy eyes found her; stared at her as if he knew her. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Then she realized why he looked at her that way. She knew him. A year ago there was this guy on her Facebook that always liked her posts and sometimes messaged her in her chat box but she just ignored him. He was not worth the attention but now all of that changed.

“David,” she called to him.

He stood up with trembling legs. The cops tried to help him but he refused. He turned his back from her and started to walk away; the cops clearing his way.

“David!” she called to him again.

He stopped and looked back at her. He stared coldly at her for a moment and then shot up to the air. Streaks of his blood hit her face.


That night she visited his Facebook. She felt a thrill when she saw that he was online.

“Hi,” was her message.

No reply.

“How are you?” she typed.

Still no reply.

“Are you all right?” she insisted.


“I hope you’re okay,” she pursued.

“Since when did you give a damn?” was his sudden reply, and went offline before she could type a reply.

She felt a tinge of guilt. He was just doing what she did to him. Ignoring her.

She checked his wall. “Now you know so you give a damn? No thank you,” was his post on his wall.

A tear fell from her eye. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Minutes later his Facebook account no longer existed. But before that she saw a message in her inbox. It was from him saying he was sorry and that he understood her. She was happy. But she could no longer keep in touch with him. She still saw and heard him on the news doing heroic deeds. She hoped that one day she’d meet him again.