I Can’t Stand the Rain

by Frances Tate

“And the dreams?” the psychiatrist asks.

“Stopped,” I lie, won’t admit the rain still brings them on. Worse than ever.

I drive home, wipers dancing.

Cooking makes me feel better; a romantic meal for one. Italian. Plenty of wine. I go to bed feeling relaxed.

Dream.

I wake, soaked and shivering.

In my dream, a monster entered a random family’s home. Tore the children apart first.

Shredded Mum as she tried to reach them. Took a bullet, didn’t stop. Ripped Daddy asunder.

Rising, whimpering and sore, I see the blood-streaked monster at the bare first-floor window: Scream.

At my reflection.

Frances Tate
Frances Tate is a British self-published writer of vampires and drabbles who has recently rediscovered short stories. She has been published in The Dark Sire, CommuterLit and The Drabble. She’s had drabbles accepted for a number of Black Hare Press Anthologies.  

She enjoys gardening, historical sites, cinema, reading and travelling.

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