Tapping
A flash fiction for the gothic and mysterious...
Tap, tap, tap.
On the window pane.
Tap, tap, tap.
Again and again, as the rain slid down the cool glass, that framed the darkening sky. My pulse quickened in my breast as I, daring to tread closer, tilted my head to hear the sound.
Tap, tap, tap. There it was again, the infuriating little noise, one that had haunted the Mason women for generations.
Tap, tap, tap. Though the rain pelted the glass, the tapping did not cease. And in the lonely house, a thought coiled in my mind. I did not know how to do it, but in the still and darkened corridor, with tightened fists, I swore. If Insanity had come for me, then the conquering of my mind I'd make a chore, and whether to the sound I lost or won, I'd make it tap no more. Through the sound of wind and rain, that morbid curiosity began to stir.
Tap, tap, tap. I shoved it down, the thing I had pondered many a time before. What did the tapping give, that the Mason women had offered their sanity for?