My mom used to say that rain is God’s tears, and that’s why we shouldn’t drink it. She said a lot of things to make me behave. She told me that eating too many sweets make invisible goblins that chew on my teeth. That spiders would crawl into my mouth if I didn’t breathe through my nose. That eating snow would freeze my stomach and turn me into a snowman. A hundred little lies, all engineered to trick me into behaving.

And I behaved. As the years passed, I’ve turned into a perfectly tricked human. I left all childish nonsense behind years ago. I pay my taxes and keep my head down. I don’t eat too many sweets, I breathe through my nose, and I don’t eat snow. And, of course, I don’t drink from the rain.

​

Last August, I was at a supermarket on the outskirts of town. Just another lazy Saturday morning, with a sky full of grey clouds and a persistent wind. I’d bought some groceries and was heading for the door when I noticed it’d started raining. I hadn’t brought an umbrella, so I just pulled my leather jacket close and rushed to my car, hoping the bread wouldn’t get soggy. I threw the groceries into the passenger seat, leaned back, and noticed a woman standing in the middle of the parking lot.

She was staring straight up with her jaws wide open. Her mouth filling up with rainwater, like a bird bath.

Seeing her, I couldn’t help but to think about what my mom used to tell me. To never drink the rainwater; that it was an ugly thing to do. My mom passed on years ago, but some words can stay forever.

​

I sat there looking at her for a while. She had this black pixie haircut and a gray hoodie long enough to reach her knees. She was completely drenched, with lines of black mascara running from her eyes. It took me a while to notice she didn’t have any shoes on.

I got the feeling that she wasn’t well. This wasn’t something sane people did. Sane people don’t drink rainwater like that. God’s tears.

It wasn’t unusual that strange characters came by this supermarket. There was a prison nearby, and a lot of people stopped by to buy something on their way out. Mostly friends and family visiting, but every now and then there was an odd bird. I have no idea what kind of people they keep at that prison, but the company that runs it has quite the reputation around town. Hatchet is a strange company.

​

I decided to say something, and stepped out of the car.

“Hey!” I called out. “You’re gonna get sick!”

She didn’t flinch. It was as if she didn’t even register my words as a language. Instead, she just kept staring into the sky. She had this sort of mindless determination about her, like she didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t even blink. Raindrops bounced off her unblinking eyes.

I was about to get back in my car, but I felt bad for her. She was barely an adult, and she was clearly having some sort of breakdown. I jogged back inside the supermarket.

​

There was an older man standing behind the counter, listening to the radio. I’d shopped there a few times, but never actually talked to him. He didn’t even look at me when I came back inside.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I think the girl outside needs help.”

He leaned over a bit in his chair, squinting at the glass doors. She was still out there.

“What for?” he asked.

“I dunno, she’s… she’s just standing there. She has no shoes.”

The old man was clearly not happy about this. Not about her standing there, in particular, but that I’d bothered him about it.

“Let’s go,” he said. “People don’t talk to each other no more?”

​

I followed him outside as we approached the girl. The rain was picking up.

“Hey!” he called out to her. “You alright?”

No response. He slowed his pace, giving me a concerned look. Now he saw what I saw.

“You want us to call someone? You have a… a phone?” he asked. “You need help?”

We all just stood there for a few seconds, until the old man sighed. He put his hand on her shoulder, rustling her gently.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here,” he said. “You have to move on.”

He shook her harder, making some of the water in her mouth spill over. I got a bad feeling.

“Come on now.”

​

He grabbed her again, and she immediately lost her balance. She tipped over like a falling tree, her head smacking haplessly against the concrete. Water spilled out of her mouth, mixing with the blood from the fresh head wound.

The old man’s eyes went wild. He fell to his knees, repeating “oh my God” over and over. I backed away with my hand on my phone. I didn’t register what was happening, and I went into a sort of paralysis. It took me a few seconds to notice she was still coughing up water. A lot of water. And some of it had turned black. I thought it might be blood, but it didn’t look like it. Too dark.

I was suddenly aware of the phone in my hand. The weight and texture of it. I dialed 911 as the old man put her on her side.

“Breathe through your nose!” he said. “Stay calm, and breathe through your nose!”

Black water was pouring out of her like a faucet. Her eyes were still fixed on the sky.

​

It felt like minutes, but it was just seconds. Breaths. The water stopped pouring out of her. She just laid there, unmoving. I could hear an operator talking to me in my ear, but it was as if the words just passed through me. I couldn’t hear them over my own pulse. Something about an emergency. A question.

“She’s… she’s not breathing!” the old man cried. “She’s not-“

A twitch. Her mouth moved. Something passed between her lips; something dark. A finger?

A claw?

She rolled onto her back with a violent muscle spasm. She bent her back like an arch, balancing her entire body on the soles of her feet and the scalp of her head. She inhaled, sucking in as much rainwater as she could in a screeching gasp. Her throat rattling as the rain drops passed into her lungs.

We went from trying to help to just staring in disbelief. In an impossible move, she got to her feet; invisible tethers pulling her back up.

Her face still locked towards the sky, and jaws once again wide open, her body turned to me and the old man. And as we recoiled, she gurgled, and charged us.

​

My phone slipped out of my wet hands as she burst forward. I tripped over my own feet, falling backwards, and she hurled herself over the old man. Her head was constantly looking upwards, like a gyroscope. It was as if her body was moving and twisting independently from her head. I could swear she twisted her neck an entire 360 degrees at one point.

I crawled backwards, scraping the palm of my hands. She gurgled again, the water from her mouth pouring over the old man that she’d pinned. He was gasping for air. Spitting and coughing, wildly flailing his arms. Just this relentless stream of water, practically drowning him.

Then he stopped.

Slowly, he opened his mouth wide, and he too started to drink the rain.

​

I stumbled to my feet and ran for my car. I could hear naked feet slapping against the concrete; she was chasing me. I got my keys out, unlocked the car, and got in the driver’s seat. I slammed the door shut right on her fingers, breaking them like carrot sticks as the door bounced back open.

I crawled into the passenger seat as useless fingers brushed against my face; trying to grasp at me. She crawled in after me, gurgling with anticipation. I got out on the other side of the car, slamming the passenger side door shut. I rounded back to the driver’s side and closed that door as well, trapping her inside. She didn’t have the mental capacity to open the doors, so she just settled back into pounding on the glass with her bleeding, broken fingers.

Her eyes were moving independently of one another, trying to find a way out.

Trying to find the sky.

​

I backed away, my heart pounding. I didn’t even notice my tears in the rain, just the sting of sweat in my eye. I kept hunching over, clutching at my stomach. It was burning, like my insides were trying to jump out of me. My heart was having none of this.

The old man had gotten to his feet. He looked at me from across the parking lot. For a few seconds, I could see fear on his face. Pleading eyes, begging for help. Then, his face snapped upwards, and he opened his mouth wide.

His body, moving seemingly on its’ own, started walking towards me. He tripped over the concrete outlines of the parking spaces, barely keeping his balance. His shoulder smacked into a sign, sending him reeling onto the ground. All the while keeping his head fixed on the sky.

Then, just as the girl before him, I could see this invisible force pulling him back onto his feet. Transparent tethers, hidden in the drops of rain.

​

He got his bearings. And suddenly, he was fast.

​

This man was easily 70 years old, but he was keeping an impossible pace. I didn’t know where to go. Didn’t know what to do. He gained on me, and I just stood there like a deer frozen in headlights. Thumping feet coming closer.

Then the girl trapped in my car slapped her hand against the window again. The sound kicked me off like a starting pistol.

I shot into a sprint as my stomach shivered.

​

I don’t remember running back into the store. I don’t remember knocking over a stack of shopping baskets. It was just a blur of colorful packaging as I ran through the aisles, cheerful radio tunes playing overhead. The old man tripped over a shopping basket and fell sprawling to the floor, water spilling out of him like a fountain.

As he struggled to get back on his feet, I saw little things moving between his lips. Little fingertips, black like ink. A little hand reaching out.

He stepped back outside and leaned his head back upwards. Slowly, he walked out of sight, towards another side of the store. I was left standing there, holding a mop. I didn’t even realize I’d grabbed it.

​

I started to look for a phone. There had to be some sort of alarm, but I couldn’t find it. There was no big red button to press. My hands were shaking, and I kept knocking things over. A bunch of pens rattled against the ceramic tiles.

I looked for the manager’s office. The guy was old, chances were there was a landline. Going into the back, I heard a surprised yell. There was someone outside the back exit. I couldn’t be bothered, I had to call for help. Help yourself before you help others. Put on the oxygen mask.

The manager’s office was locked. I tried just pulling the door open, or banging at the glass slit, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, I pulled a fire extinguisher from the wall and just hammered relentlessly until the thing shattered. I put my hand through, clicked the lock, and stepped inside.

​

The place was a mess, but it had a landline buried under piles of unsorted documents. There was a computer, but the thing was already old ten years ago. I dialed 911 as I closed and locked the door behind me.

I only have a vague recollection of speaking to the operator. I told her about people turning violent, but in trying to explain it I realized I sounded completely mad. I tried calming myself down, and explain it in a way that made it seem like the owner had snapped. They asked me if I was safe, if he was armed, if someone was injured… a thousand things, it seemed like.

I kept hearing little noises in the back of the store, and I completely lost my train of thought.

​

“Sir? Sir, are you there?”

I heard the voice on the phone, but it was distant. Every bone in my body was listening to what was happening outside. Someone was getting in through the back door. It was clunky, but I could hear the handle rattling.

“Sir!”

I slowly put the phone away. Not hanging up, just putting it away. I had to concentrate. There was an old toolbox in the corner of the room, so I grabbed a large wrench to defend myself. I needed solid metal in my hands. It brought me a kind of courage I didn’t know I had.

When the old man stepped up to the manager’s office, I was ready. I slammed the door open, knocking him back. Even now his head was tilted upwards. I whacked him over the head with the wrench, sluggishly connecting with his throat. He stumbled sidewards, and I hit him again. He tripped, fell over, and snapped his neck against the wall.

​

It was over in a second. He stopped moving as black water oozed out of him. And there, moving at the edge of his lips, were little black fingers. Reaching outwards, desperately. Looking for something to grab, to pull itself free. His jaw moved up and down, like he was chewing an invisible meal. His eyes were still fixed upward.

As I raised the wrench to attack again, the little hand stopped moving. It turned into a black sludge, like coagulating darkness.

​

I couldn’t let go of the wrench even if I wanted to. My fingers had cramped shut. I took a deep gasp, as I realized I’d been holding my breath. I backed away. I’d killed this man. Self defense or not, he was dead. No question about it.

“Sir?! Sir!” I could hear coming from the landline in the other room.

I didn’t know how to explain this. I didn’t know what I’d say. I just stood there, listening to myself breathe.

​

In an instant, the world shifted upside down. I lost my balance, as something grabbed me from behind. I fell hard on my right shoulder, losing the grip on my wrench in the impact. Two arms had gripped me and was pulling me backwards.

The stock boy. He’d been out back on a smoke break this whole time. That’s the startled sound I’d heard; he’d been attacked.

Moments later, I felt the rain again. He’d dragged me outside. The guy was in his early 30’s and built like a redwood. He had no trouble keeping me off balance, as he pushed me to the ground. He tilted his head downward, as water started to spill.

​

“Wait!” I screamed. “Wait, w-wait!”

Then, rainwater. Luke-warm, body-tempered rainwater.

​

It is hard to explain the sensation. At first I was drowning, trying to keep water out of my lungs. But after one or two involuntary gulps, I didn’t feel it anymore. It was as if air and water switched place. The rainwater kept me alive, and losing it would mean choking to death. My neck locked itself staring upwards, as to not lose any water.

As I looked up at the clouds, I heard a voice. It felt like it was reaching into my stomach, resonating in my body like an echo. Rain falling on me, making it look like I was running through a tunnel, or being pulled upwards.

“Hello.”

A greeting. A dark presence went swimming through my thoughts. Little tendrils seeping into my memories, touching all my secrets. I could feel my body moving on its’ own, and all I could do was look up. I tried to scream for help, but all I did was gurgle. It hurt something awful, burning like razor wire being pulled out of me the more I resisted.

There was something up there. Something in the clouds that needed me, the way a body needs a pair of hands.

​

I lived in that world. I don’t know for how long. Having a conversation with something inside myself, trying to feel something. My body was numb and distant. Frozen solid, and pulled by an impossible force.

And at some point, the rain stopped.

​

I was staring up into the sky; coughing up water, as my body slowly remembered how to breathe. I was lying on my back, looking up at the clouds. They were parting.

I turned to my side, feeling something wriggle in my throat. I gulped down hard, feeling an obstruction slide down. Then the water started coming out of me. Rainwater, black water, and blood.

I had an idea where I was, but it took me some time to orient myself. It was a grassy field, just a bit out of town. Underbrush, some scattered trees, and a few dried-up discolored sunflowers. I was just off the freeway, about a fifteen-minute walk from the store. I’d seen this field on my way home from work, I realized. Not too far from Frog Lake.

​

I eventually made my way back to the supermarket. Four patrol vehicles and an ambulance had arrived, sirens wailing. I saw the young woman with the black hair being lifted into an ambulance, her hand broken and bleeding. She had a tight bandage wrapped around her head. They were also moving a body out of the store, and three officers were talking to themselves and taking pictures by the entrance.

Coughing up the last drops of black water, I tried my best to scream for help. All that came out was a gurgle, that slowly turned into a scream.

That part was all me.

​

They eventually recognized my voice from the emergency call. They took me in, had a medic check me out, and questioned me all about it. The officers tried to piece it all together into something comprehensible, ending up at the story of “an old man goes crazy and gets killed”. I wanted to tell them more, but I just couldn’t find the words to make it sensible. There was some surveillance footage, but it didn’t cover much of the parking lot. All they saw was me being chased into the store by a sick-looking man.

Before I was sent home, and asked not to leave the state, I got the chance to ask my own questions. I asked them about the young woman in my car, and what happened to her.

Apparently, she’d been picked up by her guardians almost immediately. They had all paperwork in order, as well as a pair of very expensive lawyers.

“Strange people,” the officer noted. “Didn’t seem very parental.”

​

Since then, I’ve been getting shivers whenever it rains. I get this sense that I should go outside, to see if there is anything up there. Something that still needs me. Something calling to me. But I’m fine, according to the doctors. Still, I don’t trust myself to stay inside. I lock myself in the bathroom with my headphones on, waiting for it all to pass.

I’ve read about others seeing her. A young woman who comes out when it rains, to drink from the sky. I have to know more about her. I need to know what happened to me.

​

So if you’ve seen her, please let me know when and where.

And if you meet her, just walk the other way.