It was raining when it first started.

## **It was raining when it first started.   -   by Hayden/WarriorCatPonybox**

It was a rainy day when it all started.

Being a rather reclusive person, I relished rainy days. They were opportunities for me to curl up with a good book, or with my laptop, and stay well and truly away from the rest of society. Naturally, that day was no exception, and I was curled up under a warm blanket surfing the web. The patter of rain outside was calming.

Out of the blue, there was a knock on the door. I got up slowly, annoyed at having my rainy day interrupted. Making my way downstairs, I looked out the window, and saw nothing. Confused, I made my way to the door, but did not open it.

A note slid its way under the door, strangely dry, despite the pouring rain. I picked it up. “Please let me in,” it read. “The rain is cold, and I am getting wet.”

“No,” I replied out loud. “I will not let you in. I am quite sorry, but I simply cannot have someone tracking mud all over my floors, and I cannot see you anyway.”

I slid the note back under the door and walked away.

The next day, which was very sunny (much to my utter dismay), there came another knock at the door. I looked out the window once again, and saw no one, once again. “Who is it?” I asked.

A note was slid under the door. This time, it read, “Please let me in. It is very hot. It is making me uncomfortable.”

“No, I shall not let you in,” I said. “It would do you good to stop bothering me!”

I slid the note back under, only to have a second note come under the door. “Please, I can smell the delicious dog,” was written on it.

“That is the neighbor’s dog,” I replied, since I possess no dog, and never have. “There is no dog here.”

I suppose it must have gone away at that point, for no new notes came. Instead, I was left to ponder how a dog would smell delicious. It was at that moment that I remembered that the neighbor’s dog had been dead for two years, and the neighbor incarcerated for several months (she was arrested for tax evasion, you see). So how could whatever it was still smell it?

A few days passed, and each day it knocked on the door and passed notes. It had revealed to me that it was named “Bellua” and it was a human, though I doubted the last statement severely. It did not threaten me even once, which I found surprising. I still did not open the door, since I had no reason to believe any of its words, and I was quite the paranoid person.

On this day, however, after it knocked, it sent no notes. Worried for my own safety, I spoke through the door to it. “Are you there? Have you gone?”

It did not answer, simply knocking again. I did not open the door. It continued knocking, harder and harder, until I feared it would break the door; then, I sprung into action, bolting the door shut and slamming a chair against it. The knocking continued, spurring me further into panic, and I continued to pile items up against the door until I was sure nothing would get through.

When the knocking finally stopped, I was relieved, and went about shutting and locking every window and door in my house. I put chairs in front of the doors as well, just in case it happened to pick the locks. When night fell, I drew my blinds shut, and pushed a chair in front of my door. I did not sleep one wink.

Today, it has not knocked, and I found the window open earlier.

I’m scared.