Tip, Tip, Tap

A hard day’s work should result in an evening rest and a long night’s slumber. There’s no better feeling, he thought, than kicking off my shoes and becoming one with my recliner until the night beckons sleep.

The sunlight dwindled; a darkness overcame what was left of a sunny sky. This darkness wasn’t one illuminated by the moon and the angels of her light; it was one of solemnity and mourning. The kind of dark that creates an aching dread in your stomach causing unceasing cramps and turmoil. With the shrouded sky came clouds begging any small amount of wind to tear open their bellies so they may cry an ocean’s worth of rain releasing all their frustration and tension in the form of loud bellowing thunder with streaks of light to plunge like tridents into the ground and shake the foundational bones of any house or structure that may be unlucky enough to its proximity.

Of course, after a long day working, he barely cared about the rain at all. And why should he? The rain is out there, and I am in here, he thought. It has no effect on the evening I may enjoy. I’m free to read my book in peace and enjoy the stew I’ve prepared ahead of time for an occasion such as this.

The sky finally made good on its promise as he heated his stew on the stove top. The rain began relentlessly pouring from overhead as a wave might on a beach crashing and recessing but never stopping. As a crack of thunder reverberated through the air the light on the stove top flickered, going out for only a brief second before buzzing back to life.

That’s when he heard tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap. It was faint, but oh he was sure that he’d heard it.

But it couldn’t be, he thought, so he stopped what he was doing and listened again, harder.

Ah, just as I’d suspected. A curse of my imagination, a figment of paranoia. No rain has penetrated this house. It couldn’t, after all, the house is too new, too sound, too fortuitous. Just then a splat followed by a hiss of burning stew on a stove top shattered his thoughts. Acting quickly, he moved the dingy pot from an active burner to an inactive one fanning the bubbling stew as if to put out a fire before moving a portion of the stew to a bowl from which he could enjoy it.

Shuffling various appliances from the countertop to their proper storage areas and foraging a spoon once again he heard tip, tip, tap… tip, tip tap. It seemed a bit louder this time, but it must’ve been a trick of the mind as he listened intently once again and heard nothing.

Feeling reassured, he grabbed the hot bowl of stew sitting atop a tea plate, a napkin, and a spoon to make his way to a restful spot he’d become accustomed to. Before sitting neatly on the edge of his living room chair’s seat, he thoughtfully placed the bowl and spoon next to each other on an end table decorated with books of every genre imaginable. He lifted the spoon to meet his lips for the first time, blowing the steam away to make it a tolerable temperature for consumption when he felt three drops tip, tip, tap on top of his head which were soon followed by three more drops tip, tip, tap.

He was in shock, but somewhat relieved to realize that the dripping he’d heard wasn’t a feverish concoction but instead reality. Not only was the tapping of water real, but it was also increasing in severity and tempo. This angered him slightly. He couldn’t believe that the rain was finding a way to penetrate the house!

Of course, this wasn’t a problem that he could solve, and it wasn’t one that could be solved immediately; as long as it was raining, no one would be able to get on the roof or inspect the ceiling to find the cause of the mysterious leak. Feeling a wave of heat and anger rush over him, emanating in his chest and spreading to his face and limbs he closed his eyes taking a brief second to stop himself from overacting to the situation.

The solution is clear, all I must do is move my chair just a few feet in any direction and place a bucket underneath this dreadful leak. He’d formulated a plan, and it was time to see it through.

Sitting once again, he made a best effort to relax as he ate his meal; this was made difficult as the tip, tip tap… tip, tip, tap of water continued increasing. The lights twinkled as thunder and lightening roared through the sky, the vibrations caused the cups, bowls, and plates in his cupboard to rattle together. Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap.

Finishing his meal, he scoured his collection of books stacking them in piles until he found just the one he was looking for. Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap. He cracked the book thumbing through it until finding the page with the bent over corner he’d used to mark the spot that he’d stopped reading last time. Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap.

BOOM. The thunder crashed as he’d heard the last tap hit the bucket which caused a rush anger, fright, and adrenaline to course through his veins. In one motion he stood and kicked the bucket as hard as he could causing it to fly across the room, spilling the small amount of water that it had collected.

This rain, this drip… it’s impossible to relax under these conditions! However, reality began creeping in again and he’d realized what he’d done. He headed to the kitchen to grab a cup towel and clean the mess he’d made in his fit of rage and fear.

Bending down to his hands and knees to wipe the water, the rain grew louder, and he could hear the wind brushing the windows, begging to be let in. He stood, grabbing the bucket, and replacing it where it could once again catch the rain. Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap.

He’d have to work a little harder to maintain his composure as the rain wasn’t going to be stopping any time soon. If anything, it was intensifying. The wind was speeding up, the thunder and lightening were becoming more frequent, the rain was falling harder and fatter, and the tip, tip, tap was continuing with fewer and fewer seconds in between occurrences.

Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap. He sat again resuming his evening read to shrug of the labors of the day and sink into his chair’s cushioned seat. Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap. The drip was annoying, but he was eventually able to mostly ignore it. Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap. Before long he was entranced in the words on the page and barely thinking about the sound the water was making as it hit the puddle building in the bucket.

Before long, he’d fallen asleep with the book on his chest snoring in the recliner as the storm continued its rampage and the bucket continued to fill. It wasn’t long after that a loud crash of thunder shook his house causing a shock wave so deep it seemed to shake every four-by-four stud sandwiched between the sheet rock of his house. Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap.

At that moment, he realized that the dripping had continued to get worse as he’d slept so peacefully. In fact, each drop to enter the pale would cause a small wave spilling out of the rim and dribbling onto the floor. He quickly went to grab his only other bucket to exchange with the overflowing one. Immediately the new bucket began the familiar sound – tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap.

The noise of the drip began spilling over from a minor annoyance to something more sinister. It was now mocking him. He stepped carefully towards the sink in an attempt to not allow any more water to spill onto the floor, but each time he stepped the noise mocked him. It dripped after each heel hit the ground as if to indicate that the dripping was in some way a product of his own making. Step, tip, step, tip, step, tap, step, tip, step, tip, step, tap.

Finally making it to the kitchen, he heaved the bucket onto his counter and let the water pour into the sink and down the drain like a tsunami followed by a whirlpool. The tip, tip, tap of the water had increased from a drip to a pour, and by the time he’d made it back to the new bucket, it was already mostly full.

For just a moment he stared at the rising water in disbelief, not knowing what to do. There was only one thing to do, he thought. He’d have to play the drip’s game and continuously exchange the buckets for one another, emptying one while the other filled, until the rain eventually let up. It must let up eventually, this cannot continue, he thought. Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap.

Though he was furious with the water and the sound it was making, it broke his train of thought and he realized while he stood in dismay the water was only continuing to rise. He broke his stare, exchanged the buckets, and began his plan. He fought the water for hours, and again, with each step he took the water would taunt him and his futile attempt to tame it. Step, tip, step, tip, step, tap, step, tip, step, tip, step, tap.

As he continued, the rain only grew in strength and the leak once again seemed to increase from a pour to a small stream of water. I can’t believe this. The rain can’t continue, this drip can’t continue. This house is a fortress and the idea that nature’s tears are flowing at a rate like this is unthinkable. It must be stopped. Once again, he began formulating a plan in his head.

Of course, no roofer will come out tonight on such short notice, and if they did, they wouldn’t find any issue. I’d be surprised if they’d even get on the roof to look for one. But a leak such as this, must have some sort of obvious cause. Perhaps there’s a hole in the roof from the storm, or maybe the wind has flipped some of my shingles. If I go look at the roof, I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with some temporary solution until someone can fix it more permanently tomorrow.

After exchanging a full bucket for an empty one instead of rushing to the sink he ran to his bedroom and pulled out a chest quickly emptying its contents onto the ground. He pulled the heavy wooden chest to a now overflowing bucket.

Well, my chest will be ruined, but at least it should hold the leak long enough for me to check on the roof, he thought.

He couldn’t believe it, he was in a completely different area of the house, but he could still hear the sound as he opened the garage door. Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap. He took one step down into the garage and was in utter disbelief. His garage was completely flooded.

This is untenable. This house is too new, it should be a fortress. I can’t believe this is happening. He swatted at the water in a way that a child might do in a public swimming pool to have fun with a friend, but he wasn’t having fun – in fact, he couldn’t think of a more miserable time in his life than this very moment. I can’t let this distract me. I must continue my plan.

He made his way through the knee-high water in his garage to his ladder and tarp and he heard thunder cackle outside; he could feel the water tremble as the sound pierced the air. Grabbing the ladder and putting it across his back, he made his way outside.

Once outside he extended the ladder and placed one end onto his roof where it rested against a rain gutter. He feverishly climbed the ladder as the rain hit the top of his head, eventually making its way down his body and through his clothes soaking them to the point of ruin. As he reached the crest of his house, he made his way onto the slippery roof by crawling on all fours like a dog or a man in the trenches.

He crawled like that until he reached the point where he estimated that the leak may be coming from. Standing up his heart sank down into his stomach as he looked down upon a large hole in his roof. Something must have struck the house, and I didn’t even realize it. Maybe it happened while I was at work? It couldn’t have been lightening or something during the storm – I would’ve heard it.

But it wasn’t the time to find the cause of the hole, he needed to stop the leak before the damage could get any worse. He began spreading the tarp over the hole as best he could. However, in his haste, he’d forgotten to find a way to fasten the tarp to the roof.

As he spread the tarp, the wind would rip it up. He tried once, twice, and a third time. It was on the third attempt that the wind blew the tarp into his face. He could see nothing. Completely discombobulated, he stumbled backwards attempting to separate himself from the tarp. Losing balance, he stepped forward.

He fell through the hole and as he did, the tarp grabbed hold of a protruding beam, causing it to rip from his face and hang from the inside of the house. He fell immediately through the ceiling and directly onto the chest which he’d placed to catch water in his absence.

He lay still.

Tip, tip, tap… tip, tip, tap.