05 Oct Ombrophobia

Part I

The storm arrived faster than anyone expected. Six-year-old Evelina McIntyre sat cross-legged on the carpet in her bedroom, a small, cozy space nestled on the lower level of her family’s home in Georgia. The room, with its pastel green walls and neatly arranged shelves of toys and books, was usually a place of warmth and comfort. Her bed, covered in a soft quilt embroidered with flowers, took up the far corner, and a low dresser stood against the wall opposite the door. Evelina’s drawings were pinned up all around—crayon depictions of smiling animals, blue skies, and colorful rainbows.

But tonight, the peaceful space felt small and fragile as the storm gathered strength outside. Rain beat against the windows in uneven bursts, carried by gusts of wind that made the glass rattle. Evelina’s parents, Lucy and Alexei, were upstairs. Their voices and the hum of the television drifted down the hallway, mixed with the low growl of thunder. She turned her attention back to her toys, focusing on arranging her favorite dolls in a neat line across the floor.

A sudden creak from the far corner made Evelina pause. She glanced up, frowning slightly. The room was lit by the soft glow of her bedside lamp, casting steady light on every nook and cranny. Nothing seemed out of place, but then she noticed a small, dark patch spreading slowly along the edge of the carpet by the windowsill.

She stood up, watching as the dark spot expanded. Water was seeping in under the window frame, pooling at the base of the wall and trickling across the floor. The carpet turned a deep, murky color as the water soaked in, widening steadily.

“Mama! Papa!” she called, stepping back as the water crept farther into the room. “There’s water!”

Her mother’s voice answered faintly from upstairs. “What did you say, Evey?”

“There’s water in my room!” Evelina shouted, her chest tightening. She watched helplessly as the puddle spread, soaking the carpet. Her toys, scattered around the floor, were at risk of getting wet. She dropped to her knees, heart racing, and began snatching them up, holding as many as she could against her chest.

She moved quickly, setting the dolls on her bed one by one, but more water continued to spill into the room. She grabbed her favorite stuffed animals, their soft fur brushing against her wet sleeves. One of her dolls—a small blue rabbit with floppy ears—slipped from her grasp and rolled across the wet carpet, its fabric soaking up the dirty water. She lunged for it, her sleeves dipping into the puddle, but the doll skidded out of reach. She grabbed at it again, but the water made her grip slip. By the time her mother appeared in the doorway, the water had risen higher, creeping around her ankles.

Lucy rushed in, taking one look at the soaked carpet and pulling Evelina up onto the bed. “Come here, baby,” she murmured, brushing her damp hair back. “Alexei! It’s coming in fast down here!”

Evelina’s father arrived, his face drawn tight with worry. He moved cautiously through the rising water, his shoes squishing on the soaked carpet. “It’s already this bad?” he muttered. “We need to block it off.”

He turned and hurried back up the stairs. Evelina clung to her mother’s arm, watching as the water continued to pour in through the small gap under the window. It wasn’t just a leak—it was spreading faster, the flow increasing with every second. The room, once her safe haven, was becoming unrecognizable.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Lucy said softly, kneeling down beside Evelina. “Papa will fix it. Just stay here on the bed, okay?”

But as the minutes passed, the water rose steadily, forming a shallow pool that covered the carpet and swirled around the legs of the furniture. Alexei returned with armfuls of towels and sheets, tossing them down to try and stem the flow. He ran back and forth, grabbing anything he could find—blankets, old clothes, even the curtains from the closet—but the water spilled over each makeshift barrier, spreading farther and deeper into the room.

Lucy lifted Evelina higher onto the bed, her voice tense. “Stay right here, baby. Don’t move.”

Evelina nodded, her eyes wide as she clutched the edge of her blanket. She watched her parents struggle against the water, their efforts frantic and hurried. It swirled around their feet, soaking through their shoes, making each step slow and heavy. The entire lower level of the house seemed to be at risk. Lucy and Alexei exchanged worried glances, murmuring urgently to each other.

And then Lucy’s gaze shifted to the far corner of the room, and her face went pale.

“Oh, God—Petey!” she gasped, her voice strained. “The rabbit! Alexei, the rabbit!”

Evelina’s heart lurched. She twisted around, staring at the corner where Petey’s cage stood. In the chaos and confusion, she had completely forgotten about him. His small cage was half-submerged now, the water almost up to the middle. The metal bars of the enclosure rattled slightly as the water pushed against them.

“No!” Evelina cried, leaping forward, but Lucy caught her before she could wade into the deepening water.

“Stay here!” Lucy ordered sharply, pushing her back onto the bed. “Don’t move, Evey!”

Alexei splashed over to the cage, his face tight with panic. He reached down, fumbling with the latch, but the water was already too high. Petey lay motionless at the bottom of the cage, his tiny body limp and still.

The damage was already done.

Part II

Ten years had passed since the storm that changed everything for Evelina. She was 16 now, and while she had grown taller and stronger, the fear that took root that night had grown as well. What started as anxiety around storms developed into a full-blown fear of rain. Her parents had done everything they could to help her cope. They reassured her, tried to create a sense of safety whenever it stormed, and even enrolled her in weekly therapy sessions. The therapist specialized in childhood trauma, and over the years, they explored different techniques—exposure therapy, relaxation exercises, even creative outlets like drawing and writing to express her feelings.

The sessions helped somewhat. Evelina learned breathing exercises and ways to distract herself, strategies for keeping the worst of the panic at bay. But the core fear never went away. Every time the sky darkened, every time she felt the first drop of rain on her skin, that same overwhelming dread returned. It was as if the rain carried a promise with it—a threat only she could hear. No matter how much progress she made, the sense of helplessness always crept back in.

Her parents tried to be supportive. They kept umbrellas in every room, offered to pick her up from school on rainy days, and rearranged family outings to avoid any forecasted storms. But deep down, they knew—just like Evelina knew—that the fear had become part of her.

Now, eight years later, it was autumn. The days were shorter, and the afternoons were often blanketed in a gray, overcast light. The sound of the final school bell echoed through the hallways, and students poured out of their classrooms, their voices blending into a noisy hum as they made their way toward the exits.

Evelina stepped out of the main entrance, joining the small crowd spilling onto the sidewalk. They laughed and chatted, some lingering by the steps, others taking out their phones to call for rides. Evelina remained quiet, her gaze lifting anxiously to the sky. Dark clouds hung low, blotting out the sun. The air was thick and damp, carrying a faint, metallic smell that made her shiver. She knew what it meant: rain was coming.

Her pulse quickened, and she adjusted her backpack, feeling the familiar tightness in her chest. She took a steadying breath, trying to calm herself. It was just rain, she reminded herself—just drops of water falling from the sky. But her mind rejected the thought as soon as it formed, her heart picking up speed.

Evelina set off quickly, pushing her way through the crowd of students and heading down the sidewalk. Home was only ten minutes away—fifteen if she took the back roads. She imagined she could make it if she hurried.

The first fat raindrop struck her shoulder as she turned onto a narrow side street, soaking through her sweater instantly. Evelina flinched and glanced up at the sky, watching as more drops began to fall. They splashed onto the pavement around her, forming tiny, shimmering circles that quickly spread and disappeared. Her breathing turned shallow, and she pulled up her hood, quickening her pace.

The rain came faster now, falling in a steady rhythm. She ducked her head, focusing on the ground as she broke into a jog. The streets were nearly empty, the other kids long gone, their laughter and chatter fading behind her. Evelina’s shoes slapped against the wet pavement, each step sending up small sprays of water. She forced herself to keep going, even as the rain began to soak through her clothes, making them cling uncomfortably to her skin.

Then, without warning, she slipped. She gasped, her arms flailing as she struggled to keep her balance. Her phone, tucked loosely in the pocket of her jacket, bounced free and hit the ground with a sharp crack. Evelina’s heart lurched as she watched it slide across the slick sidewalk, carried by the thin stream of water that was now running along the curb.

“No!” she cried, lunging forward. Her fingers scraped against the wet concrete as she scrambled to grab it, but the phone skidded away, tumbling toward the street.

Rain poured down harder, making it increasingly difficult to see, but she didn’t care. She stumbled after the phone, splashing through the growing puddles, and watched helplessly as it struck the edge of the curb, teetered for a moment, and disappeared down a sewer grate.

Evelina skidded to a stop and dropped to her knees, staring down into the darkness. It was gone—her phone, her lifeline, swallowed up by the murky, rushing water below.

She reached out with trembling hands, fingers brushing the cold metal bars of the grate. “No, no, no…” she whispered, her voice lost in the roar of the rain. She peered into the blackness, blinking against the rain running down her face. The water flowed swiftly below, carrying leaves and bits of debris. But there was no sign of her phone.

Just as she was about to give up and stand, something shifted in the darkness.

Evelina froze, her breath catching in her throat. She squinted, leaning closer. There was a shape down there, blending in amongst the shadows. It was hard to see—more of an outline than anything solid—but it was moving. She was sure of it. She swallowed hard.

A soft splash echoed up from below, and before Evelina could process what was happening, her phone was tossed back up through the grate. It landed with a soft thud in a shallow puddle beside her.

Evelina jerked back, staring at the phone in shock. She blinked, rainwater dripping from her lashes, and reached out hesitantly. Her fingers brushed the wet surface of the phone, and she picked it up slowly, half-expecting it to be some kind of trick.

But it was her phone—her exact phone. She turned it over, wiping at the screen, her mind spinning. It was wet but undamaged, save for a handful of scratches on its protective case. Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked back down into the grate, eyes wide and unblinking.

There was nothing there. The darkness was empty, the water rushing steadily past. She couldn’t see the shape anymore.

“Hello?” she called softly, her voice thin and unsteady. “Is… is someone there?”

No answer. Only the sound of water rushing through the drain.

Evelina stayed there, crouched by the grate, for what felt like a long time. Finally, she stood, her legs stiff and trembling. She glanced around quickly, half-expecting to see someone watching her, but the street was empty. The rain poured down harder now, plastering her hair to her forehead, running in cold rivulets down her neck. Evelina took a step back, then another, clutching her phone tightly.

Then she turned and ran.

As she sprinted down the street, her shoes splashing through the rainwater, she heard it—a heavy, rhythmic splashing behind her. Her heart skipped, and she risked a quick glance over her shoulder.

To her surprise, the street was empty. But as her gaze dropped lower, she saw them: large, irregular footprints splashing into existence one by one in the puddles behind her. The steps were broad and deep, much larger than a person’s, and they followed her at an unbroken, steady pace.

Evelina turned and ran faster, struggling to breathe as she scrambled to safety. The house was just ahead—she could see the porch light glowing faintly through the downpour. She stumbled up the steps, her fingers fumbling with the keys, and threw herself inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

Panting, she leaned against the door, peering out the small window beside it. The rain obscured her vision, but she could still see the streetlight through the sheets of falling water. The footprints stopped just outside the house, near the bottom of the steps. They shimmered for a moment, then slowly filled with water, losing their shape and blending into the surroundings.

She backed away from the door, her heart still racing. The house was dark and quiet, and as she stood there, the fear slowly shifted into confusion. Had she really seen that? Could it have been a trick of the light, or her fear playing tricks on her?

That night, Evelina lay awake, listening to the rain pounding against the windows. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw it—those huge, misshapen footprints appearing in the rain, the empty street, and the feeling that something had been right behind her, just out of sight.

She finally drifted into a fitful sleep, only to be plagued by vivid nightmares. In her dreams, the rain was everywhere, pouring down in thick sheets, filling every corner of her world. And just outside her window, half-hidden in the downpour, something watched her. Its outline shifted and twisted in the rain, its eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness.

Part III

A few more weeks passed, but the unease lingered. Evelina couldn’t shake the memory of those footprints forming behind her in the rain. Even when the skies were clear, she felt like something was watching her, waiting for the right moment to reappear. She avoided going out when it looked like rain, and if the skies darkened, she would rush straight home, locking herself inside long before the first drops fell.

But the sense of safety within her home was beginning to unravel.

It was late evening, and the house was quiet. The distant hum of traffic drifted in through the cracked bathroom window. Evelina stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining her reflection, forcing a smile. After everything that had happened, showers made her uneasy, but she still forced herself through the routine.

She turned away, shivering as a cool breeze drifted in through the open window. The skies outside had been darkening all day, and now the soft patter of raindrops was starting up again. Evelina froze, listening. The bathroom was filled with the sounds of dripping water, but it was the sound of rain tapping against the glass that worried her most.

Her heart began to beat faster as the rain intensified, turning into a steady downpour. She moved to the window, intending to close it. But the moment her fingers brushed the frame, she hesitated. Something outside caught her eye. The street below was dark, lit only by the occasional glow of a passing car’s headlights. Water splashed and pooled along the pavement, and just for a second, she thought she saw something in it—something shifting, a tall, distorted shape standing at the corner, unmoving in the heavy rain.

Evelina slammed the window shut, locking it tight. The shape vanished, swallowed up by the darkness and the rain. She stood there for a moment, staring out into the downpour, but there was nothing now. Just another late-autumn shower saturating the empty street.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to turn away. It was just her imagination, she told herself. She’d been on edge ever since the day she had seen the footprints. The very idea was preposterous, she realized. Such things didn’t exist. Still, her anxiety remained. Trembling slightly and in spite of her fear, Evelina peeled off her clothes and stepped into the spacious shower, turning the water on. Cautiously, casting one last glance at the rain beating against the nearby window, she stepped into the shower. Hot water cascaded over her skin, the steady stream drumming against her shoulders and sending steam swirling around her.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, letting the warmth ease her tension. The soft hiss of the shower filled the small space, drowning out the sounds of the storm outside, as she lathered and rinsed her hair. For a few minutes, she almost felt normal.

But then, through the haze of the shower spray, she noticed something strange. There, just at the edge of her vision, the water seemed to be hitting something solid—something that shouldn’t have been there. The droplets scattered and spread, outlining a figure, unusually thin, standing along the far wall of the shower.

Evelina’s breath caught. Her eyes widened, her body tensing. She blinked rapidly, wiping at the water running down her face. The shape didn’t move, didn’t react. The spray of the shower hit it, bouncing off in tiny splashes, revealing the outline of a figure that was nearly as tall as the stall itself.

It wasn’t a person. The proportions were wrong—too slender, too elongated. The head was bent slightly, its shoulders hunched forward, as if it were leaning toward her. For a moment, Evelina couldn’t breathe. She stared, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing.

Then the figure shifted.

Evelina stumbled back, slipping on the wet tiles. She caught herself on the wall, her hands shaking. The water was still hitting it, clinging to its form, revealing the smooth, slick surface of something she couldn’t name. She watched, horrified, as a long, gangly arm unfolded from the shape, reaching out slowly, almost curiously, toward her.

Her back hit the cold wall of the shower. She pressed herself against it, trembling, her eyes locked on the reaching arm. The water ran down its length, outlining every unnatural curve. It stopped just inches from her face, hovering there. She could see the droplets sliding off its surface, dripping down to the floor in a steady rhythm.

Evelina didn’t move. She didn’t dare to.

Then, very slowly, she cautiously lifted her hand, extending it toward the figure.

Her fingers brushed against its surface, and she recoiled instantly, jerking her hand back, as if singed.

It was cold—unnaturally cold, like touching the skin of something that had never been alive. Its surface was smooth and wet, almost rubbery, and it left behind a strange, oily texture that clung to her skin. Evelina couldn’t help but stare at her fingers.

Meanwhile, the figure didn’t react. It remained still, its arm still extended, its head tilted slightly as if watching her.

She had to get out. She had to run.

Evelina pushed herself off the wall, sliding past the figure, her movements clumsy and frantic. She burst out of the shower, grabbed a nearby towel, and hastily wrapped it around herself. She didn’t look back—she didn’t want to see it following her. She flung the bathroom door open and ran down the hallway, water dripping from her hair and soaking the carpet.

The house was dark, shadows pooling in every corner. She turned sharply into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her, and pressed her back against it, trembling violently.

With the exception of the faint, distant tap of the rain against the windows, everything was still.

It was gone, or at least it seemed to be. The figure—whatever it had been—wasn’t pursuing her. She was alone. And yet, the fear didn’t fade. She had touched it. Felt it. It had been in the shower with her, inches away, as if waiting for her to notice.

Had it been there the whole time?

Exhausted, Evelina sank to the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, shivering uncontrollably. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She’d spent years learning to manage her fear, but this—this was something therapy couldn’t prepare her for.

The rain she had always been so afraid of may have been harmless, but not this. It wasn’t in her head, no. It was dangerous, and it was here.

It was inside her house.

Part IV

It had been two weeks since the creature broke into her home and attacked her in the shower. Two weeks of fear, tension, and unrelenting vigilance. Evelina hadn’t told anyone what happened. Not her parents, not her therapist—no one. They wouldn’t believe her. Or worse, they’d think she was making it up. Some days, she almost convinced herself that maybe it had been a hallucination. After all, it only happened when she was wet, when the rain was pounding down, when everything felt unreal.

But deep down, she knew the truth. The creature was real. And it was still out there, lurking just beyond the safety of her walls.

Ever since that night, she’d made it a point to take extra precautions. She kept the bathroom window shut tight, even during the hottest days, and she refused to take full showers anymore. Instead, she washed herself with a washcloth, using as little water as possible, dabbing at her skin in quick, nervous motions. Every time she finished, she’d scan the room, eyes darting to the corners, looking for any sign of movement.

She checked every window and door in the house before bedtime, making sure each one was locked and sealed, even if it wasn’t supposed to rain. She kept towels by the windowsills, just in case a stray drop managed to sneak in. And every morning, before her parents woke up, she’d go through the house room by room, looking for anything out of place—a puddle where there shouldn’t be one, a dark stain on the carpet, a damp spot on the curtains.

Her parents had noticed the change. They tried to talk to her, asked her if something was bothering her. But every time they brought it up, Evelina would force a smile and shake her head, brushing off their concern. She didn’t want to worry them. And she didn’t want to admit that she was being hunted by something they couldn’t see, couldn’t touch. If she told them, what could they do? Nothing. They’d only panic, or worse—start watching her even closer. She couldn’t risk it.

So she kept quiet. And the fear festered.

Two weeks passed. She jumped at shadows, stayed up long into the night staring out the window, listening for the slightest sound of rain. She knew it was out there, waiting for the right moment to strike again. The pressure of anticipation built in her chest until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She needed to do something. She needed to prove—to herself, if no one else—that she wasn’t delusional.

The forecast called for rain that evening. Just a light drizzle, no storms, no heavy downpour. Nothing that would summon the creature.

She could handle it.

When the first fine drops began to fall, Evelina stood by the back door, staring out into the yard. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs, her palms sweaty despite the chill in the air. She had to do this. She couldn’t let it control her. It was just rain. Just water. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the door.

The rain was barely more than a mist, drifting down in tiny droplets that clung to her hair and skin. She hesitated, every muscle in her body tense. But then she forced herself to step outside. The cold, wet grass squelched under her bare feet, and she shivered, but she didn’t turn back. She moved farther into the yard, the drizzle soaking through her clothes.

For a moment, nothing happened. She stood there, her arms wrapped around herself, staring out into the gloom. The rain fell softly, lightly, beading on her skin. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and held it.

See? she told herself. It’s fine. There’s nothing here.

She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes, looking around. The yard was empty. No shadows, no movement. Just the rain, soft and gentle, pattering against the ground.

She took another step, then another, moving deeper into the yard. Her breathing slowed, her pulse easing. Maybe it really was just in her head. Maybe she was letting the fear get to her. Maybe—

Her foot caught on something solid, sending her stumbling forward. She gasped, throwing out her hands to catch herself. Her knee hit the ground, the impact jarring up her leg. Wincing, she looked down—and froze.

There, half-hidden in the wet grass, was a large, pale shape.

She blinked, her heart leaping into her throat. It was round and smooth, its surface slick with rain. For a moment, she thought it was just a rock or perhaps a stray ball one of the neighboring kids had kicked into the yard and failed to retrieve, but then she noticed the faint movement inside—a dark, writhing shape pressing against the thin, translucent membrane.

An egg.

Evelina jerked back, scrambling to her feet. Her gaze darted around the yard, and she saw them—dozens of them, scattered across the lawn like ghostly lanterns. They glimmered faintly in the rain, their pale surfaces pulsing softly with an eerie light. She could barely see them, their shapes only visible where the rain collected and slid down the thin, membranous skin.

The creature had laid its eggs in her yard.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. It was nesting here, preparing for something. There were so many of them, clustered in tight groups near the base of the tree, around the fence line, even close to the porch steps. Invisible except when it rained, hidden in plain sight.

No, she protested internally, terrified of the implications. This couldn’t be happening. 

Then the fear morphed into something else—something hot and fierce. Anger. Fury. She wasn’t going to let it take over her property, her home. She wasn’t going to let it spread. Her hands shook as she grabbed the old shovel leaning against the porch railing. She hefted it in trembling fingers, her jaw clenched tight.

With a wild cry, she took aim and swung the shovel down.

The first egg burst with a wet, splattering sound, dark liquid spraying out in all directions. The tiny creature inside convulsed violently, its small limbs twitching, then went still. Evelina swung again, and again, smashing through the eggs one by one. Each time the shovel hit, each time another egg exploded, she felt a twisted sense of satisfaction.

But then, just as she brought the shovel down on the last cluster, a sound tore through the night—a high, earsplitting shriek that echoed through the rain.

Evelina froze, the shovel slipping from her grasp. The rain poured down harder, as if on cue, thickening into a veritable wall of water. She turned slowly, and her resolve evaporated.

It was standing at the far end of the yard, half-hidden in shadow. The creature. It was bigger than before, its limbs twisted and elongated, its head hunched low. Rain ran down its body, outlining its grotesque form. Its eyes—two pinpoints of pale, unnatural light—glared at her through the darkness.

She didn’t think. She ran.

The creature’s roar split the air as it lunged forward, its massive form crashing through the yard. Evelina stumbled up the porch steps, the beast in pursuit.

She threw herself through the door and slammed it shut just as the it crashed against the wood. The impact rattled the house, shaking the walls. She backed away, panting, her entire body trembling. It let out another roar, claws scraping against the doorframe.

But it couldn’t come inside.

Evelina watched as its form flickered and shuddered in the rain, its eyes burning with rage. It clawed at the door, its shoulders hunched. But the house was dry. It couldn’t cross the threshold.

She sank to the floor, heart pounding, her hands shaking violently. The creature let out one final, earsplitting shriek, then slowly, grudgingly, pulled back.

It would come for her again, she knew. It wouldn’t stop until it got its revenge.

But for now, she was safe.

Part V

The days following the confrontation were bright and sunny, the skies a clear, unwavering blue. Evelina breathed a little easier each morning when she stepped outside and felt the warmth of the sun on her face, and slowly but surely, the fear that had gripped her so tightly began to loosen.

But deep down, she suspected it wouldn’t last. It never did. Sooner or later, the rain would return, and with it, it would come back.

A week passed. The weather reports remained blissfully rain-free, and for a while, she allowed herself to hope. She still hadn’t told anyone about the eggs or the creature. What would be the point? The evidence of what she had done had vanished with the sunshine. The grass was green and unmarred, the splintered remains of the shells nowhere to be seen. No dark stains, no broken fragments—nothing to prove that the eggs had ever been there.

It was as if the storm had washed it all away, leaving only her memories behind.

She knew what people would say. They’d think she was crazy. Maybe she was crazy. After all, she couldn’t explain any of it—not to herself, not to her parents, not to anyone. So she kept it to herself, letting it gnaw at her quietly. She barely slept, lying awake at night, staring out the window, waiting for the first sign of rain.

And then, one evening, as she was heading home from school, the dreaded moment arrived.

Dark clouds gathered on the horizon. The air grew thick and heavy with the scent of rain. The weather reports flashed warnings of severe thunderstorms, advising residents to stay indoors. Evelina’s anxiety rose to a crescendo. It was coming. And this time, it would be worse.

She hurried home, every nerve on edge, fingers trembling as she fumbled with her keys.

The first fat drops of rain began to fall just as she stepped inside. Her parents glanced up from the kitchen table, their faces etched with concern.

“Hey, sweetheart,” her mother said softly, standing up. “The storm’s going to hit pretty hard. We thought we’d all stay in tonight. Maybe watch a movie together?”

Evelina nodded, forcing a tight smile. Her parents had been tiptoeing around her fear of rain for years, trying to make her feel safe. They didn’t understand it, but they tried. And after the shower incident two weeks ago—the one she hadn’t told them about—they’d been even more accommodating. They’d offered to stay nearby whenever she took a shower, just in case she had a panic attack or needed help. Their presence, though silent and unknowing, made her feel better.

She glanced at the windows, double-checking that they were shut tight. No stray drafts, no gaps—nothing that would let the rain inside. Her mother caught her eye and smiled gently.

“Don’t worry. Everything’s locked up. You’re safe.”

The words were meant to reassure her, but they didn’t. Not really. Evelina swallowed hard, nodding again. She had to act normal. Had to keep it together.

“Yeah, I know,” she murmured. “I—I think I’m going to go take a quick shower before the storm really hits, if that’s okay.”

Her father frowned slightly, glancing out the window at the thickening clouds. “Now? Are you sure? I thought you—”

“It’s fine,” Evelina said quickly. “I’ll just be a few minutes. I’ll leave the door unlocked. You can check on me if you want.”

Her parents exchanged a worried look but nodded. Her mother stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair back from her face. “If you need anything, we’ll be right here, okay? We won’t go anywhere.”

The tightness in her chest eased, just a little. She managed a small, grateful smile. “Okay. Thanks, Mama.”

The sound of the rain picked up as she made her way to the bathroom, the steady patter turning into a drumming roar. She paused at the doorway, taking a deep breath. It was just a shower. Just water. She’d been fine before, hadn’t she? She’d taken showers every day while it was dry, and nothing had happened.

But then, it hadn’t rained.

She shook her head sharply, pushing the thought away. She was being ridiculous. It was all in her head. She had checked every window, every door. The house was dry. She was safe. It couldn’t cross the threshold.  There were rules. Rules that protected her.

Evelina turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until steam began to rise. She stripped off her clothes quickly, stepping under the spray. Hot water cascaded over her shoulders, the familiar rhythm soothing. She closed her eyes, taking deep, measured breaths.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

She let the warmth ease her muscles, washing away the tension. She could hear her parents talking softly in the other room, their voices a comforting murmur beneath the sound of the water. Outside, occasional lightning strikes cast harsh, fleeting shadows across the walls.

Then the wind picked up, rattling the windowpanes.

Evelina’s eyes snapped open. She turned, glancing at the closed bathroom window. Water trickled down the glass in thin rivulets.

It was just rain. Just a storm. She forced herself to look away, reaching for the shampoo. She rubbed it into her hair, trying to ignore the way her pulse raced, the way her skin prickled with a faint, lingering unease.

But then a drop of water slid down her cheek—a cold, unexpected droplet that didn’t belong.

Her hand froze halfway through rinsing her hair. The water was still hot, pouring steadily from the showerhead. But that drop—it was icy, like rainwater.

Slowly, heart pounding, she turned back to the window.

The glass was dark and slick with rain. But there, at the very edge, something moved. A small, thin stream of water slid down the frame, collecting in a tiny puddle at the base.

Her blood ran cold.

No. No, no, no…

Before she could react, the window shattered.

Glass exploded inward, spraying the bathroom in sharp, glittering fragments. Evelina screamed, stumbling back and slipping on the wet tiles. Her arms flailed wildly as she tried to catch herself, but her foot caught on the lip of the shower stall, sending her crashing to the floor.

The creature loomed in the jagged hole where the window had been, its massive form half-hidden in the swirling rain. Water ran down its limbs, pooling beneath it. Its claws scraped against the walls, leaving deep, splintering gouges.

Evelina scrambled backward, eyes wide with terror. She tried to scream again, but the sound stuck in her throat, choking her.

It lunged forward, its long, sinuous arms wrapping around her waist. The touch was icy and sleek, like touching a corpse. She kicked out desperately, but it held her tight, yanking her out of the stall and onto the cold, wet floor. Rain poured in through the broken window, soaking her skin and mingling with the water from the shower.

“Let me go!” Evelina shrieked, struggling wildly. But it didn’t respond. It only tightened its grip, dragging her closer to the window’s remains.

Outside, the storm raged, lightning flashing wildly. Defenseless, Evelina gasped as the creature yanked her through the broken window, its claws biting into her exposed skin. The rain poured down in a blinding torrent, soaking her instantly. At once, the creature’s grip tightened, the claws around her waist digging deeper, and she cried out in pain, her voice lost in the roar of the storm.

Evelina sobbed, twisting and kicking. But the beast only squeezed harder, pulling her further from the house. In desperation, she dug her heels into the mud, doing whatever she could to buy herself more time. Each drop of rain felt like a needle against her bare skin. She thrashed and clawed at the ground, trying to gain some sort of purchase, but it was useless. The thing was too strong.

The creature lifted her off the ground, its claws shifting, moving around her body until they closed around her throat. Her vision blurred as it crushed her throat, cutting off her oxygen. Pain flared through her body, sharp and searing. She could feel its frigid, slippery skin against her neck, the way it seemed to pulse and writhe against her flesh. She kicked out blindly, struggling to break free.

“Evelina!”

Her father’s voice rang out through the storm, high and desperate. Evelina blinked, gasping for breath, her head whipping around. Her parents stood at the edge of the yard, their faces pale with a mixture of horror, shock, and confusion.

“Evelina, I’m coming!” Alexei roared, sprinting across the yard. He snatched up the old shovel from where it lay abandoned by the porch, gripping the handle tightly. Lightning flashed again, and for a moment, his face was a mask of pure, furious determination as he caught sight of the near-invisible presence assaulting his daughter. “Let her go!” he screamed.

He swung the shovel with all his strength, the metal blade whistling through the air. But it passed right through the creature, slicing harmlessly through its form as if it were made of smoke. Only the rain reacted, the droplets rippling and scattering as the blade cut through.

“Stop!” Lucy screamed, tears streaming down her face. “Let her go!”

The creature ignored them. Its claws tightened around Evelina’s neck, squeezing until she gagged, her vision exploding with stars. She could see her mother’s face, distorted by fear and rain. She could see her father, swinging the shovel uselessly, his face twisted in rage and helplessness.

It was going to kill her. It was going to choke the life out of her, right here in front of them.

Then, suddenly, her mother lunged forward, grabbing Evelina’s arm.

“No!” Lucy cried, pulling with all her strength. “You’re not taking her!”

The creature hissed, a sound that vibrated through the air. It yanked back, its claws digging deeper into Evelina’s flesh, but Lucy held on, her grip ironclad. She dug her nails into Evelina’s skin, refusing to let go. Her father dropped the shovel and grabbed Evelina’s other arm, hauling her backward with all his strength.

For a moment, they were caught in a brutal tug-of-war, Evelina’s body stretched between them. Pain lanced through her shoulders, her joints screaming in protest. She could feel the creature pulling her, its cold, unyielding grip tightening.

But then, with a final, violent tug, they pulled her free.

Evelina collapsed onto the wet grass, gasping for breath. The creature reared back, its form flickering in the rain. For a moment, it seemed to swell, towering over them, its eyes blazing with rage. Then it lunged forward again, its claws outstretched.

“Get inside!” Alexei shouted, dragging Evelina toward the porch. “Go!”

They stumbled up the steps, Evelina half-carried between them. The creature followed, its claws raking deep gouges into the wood. But as they crossed the threshold, it stopped, its form shuddering violently.

“It can’t get me when I’m dry! Hurry!” Evelina cried, her voice high and panicked. “It can’t hurt me when I’m dry!”

Lucy yanked a towel off the coat rack and wrapped it around Evelina, rubbing frantically at her wet skin.

The creature howled, a sound of pure, animal rage. It clawed at the doorway, but the air inside was dry. Safe. Evelina watched, shaking uncontrollably, as the beast’s form flickered and faded, the rain sliding off its oily limbs.

Slowly, it pulled back.

Evelina sat on the floor, shivering violently. The towel was rough against her skin, but she clung to it like a lifeline. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close and whispering soothing words. Outside, the creature paced along the edge of the porch, its eyes never leaving her.

The storm raged on, the rain hammering against the windows. But thankfully, the thing didn’t come inside.

Not this time.

Part VI

The next few days passed in a blur of confusion and fear. Evelina’s entire body ached, covered in bruises and scratches from the creature’s attack. She stayed in bed, trembling at every sound, every shadow that moved outside her window. The storm had passed, but her fear lingered.

Her parents hovered anxiously, watching her every move. They took turns sitting by her bedside, holding her hand, speaking in soft tones. They called her therapist, consulted doctors, reached out to anyone they thought could help. But no one could understand what had happened. How could they? None of them had seen it—not like she had. And even if they did see the aftermath—the splintered wood where the creature’s claws had raked across the porch, the shattered window in the bathroom, the deep gouges in the soil outside—none of it made sense.

When the police arrived, they were baffled. They inspected the damage, eyes narrowed in confusion, murmuring quietly to each other. They had no explanation for what could have attacked a teenage girl in the middle of a thunderstorm, breaking through a bathroom window and leaving no prints, no blood, and no other sign of its presence beyond the wreckage it caused.

“Maybe a wild animal got inside,” one of the officers suggested, shaking his head. “Mountain lion, maybe. You’d be surprised how strong they can be.”

Alexei bristled at the suggestion, his jaw clenched tight. “We would have seen a mountain lion. It wasn’t—”

Lucy squeezed his arm, her expression tight. “Thank you, officer,” she said softly, politely cutting him off. “We just want to move past this.”

The officer hesitated, his gaze drifting to the broken window, the splintered wood. He didn’t look convinced, but in the end, he nodded. “Well… if you think of anything else, you have our number. In the meantime, it might be best to keep your windows closed and invest in some better locks. Whatever did this… it’s strong. You don’t want it coming back.”

It was easier for them to believe it was just an animal. Easier than accepting the truth—that something was hunting their daughter, something that moved with the rain.

After that night, Alexei and Lucy knew they couldn’t stay. The creature was drawn to the rain, and if it rained again…

They couldn’t take the risk.

Moving, however, wasn’t something they could do overnight. Selling the house, finding a new one in a different state—none of it could be done quickly. They needed somewhere dry, somewhere the creature wouldn’t be able to follow. Lucy had combed through weather records, scanning for areas with the lowest precipitation, the least humidity, and the most sunshine. That’s when she suggested Arizona.

It made perfect sense. The arid, desert climate. The low humidity. The lack of rainfall.

If there was any place where Evelina would be safe, it was there.

They made the decision to leave as quickly as they could manage. After the attack, Lucy took Evelina ahead of time, leaving Alexei behind to finalize everything. She didn’t want Evelina to spend another day in a place that was so vulnerable to storms.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Alexei promised, his voice low and strained. He wrapped Evelina in a tight hug, his hand cradling the back of her head. “Just as soon as I can. You’re going to be safe there, okay? I promise.”

She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to be apart from her father, the one person who made her feel safe. But the look in his eyes—the fear, the determination—made her swallow her protests. She nodded, biting her lip.

“You’ll come soon?”

“As soon as I can,” he whispered.

Lucy’s arms were around her then, pulling her gently toward the car. “Let’s go, sweetheart. We’re going to keep you safe.”

Evelina glanced back over her shoulder as they drove away, her heart aching. She watched her father standing in the driveway, his shoulders hunched, the battle-scarred yard stretching out behind him. He looked so small, so alone. But no matter how much she pleaded, no matter how much she begged, he wouldn’t leave until the house was sold.

Evelina took a small measure of comfort in knowing that the creature had never gone after her parents, or anyone else for that matter. It hadn’t touched her father, hadn’t do much as looked at him, not even while he was wildly defending her with a shovel. For whatever reason, it was her it wanted. Her it had marked. She was the one it was drawn to, the one it was hunting.

* * * * * *

Two weeks later, Alexei finally joined the rest of his family in Arizona. By then, Lucy had already found a small, modest house in a quiet neighborhood, its wide windows and open spaces a stark contrast to their old home. It was hot and dry, the air rife with the scent of sun-baked earth. No rain. No storms. Just endless, unbroken sunshine.

The desert stretched out around them in every direction—empty, harsh, and unforgiving—but also undeniably safe. In Arizona, there was nowhere for the creature to hide. Nothing to call it back.

And for a time, Evelina almost believed it was over.

And yet, her fear of rain had only worsened. She refused to take showers. She couldn’t glance at a faucet without breaking into a cold sweat. Instead, she resumed washing herself with washcloths, dabbing at her skin in short, quick strokes, eyes darting nervously around the room as if expecting the creature to slink out from the shadows at any moment.

Every time she finished, she would towel off until her skin was dry and raw. It didn’t matter if there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It didn’t matter if the air was hot and dry and still.

It felt like it was always watching, evolving, trying to find a way to get to her. To end what it started, to avenge the death of its offspring.

Her parents tried to make things easier. They didn’t ask her to explain, didn’t push her to talk about what had happened. They set up her room exactly the way she liked it, kept the house quiet and calm. They didn’t mention the creature, didn’t mention the rain. But they were always observing her, waiting for her to crack.

And sometimes, she thought she would crack. She knew it was still out there. It hadn’t followed them—not that she could see—but it was still very much alive, wherever it was.

Arizona was better, but it wasn’t perfect. You can run from your problems, she realized. But fear, if you let it, will always find you.

Part VII

For nearly two years, Evelina’s life in Arizona settled into a fragile, uneasy rhythm. The endless sunshine and relentless dry heat provided a thin layer of protection, a buffer that kept her fear at bay. She threw herself into her schoolwork, keeping to herself, and avoided any activities that might bring her near water. Her parents remained vigilant, their eyes always flicking toward the sky whenever there was a hint of a weather shift, but the desert rarely threatened storms.

For a time, it seemed like they had truly escaped.

Arizona was indeed safer. It was dry and harsh, defined by dust and heat. Rain was a rare event, more of a curiosity than a threat. And with each day that passed without incident, without a single drop of rain, the tension in Evelina’s shoulders eased a fraction. Over time, the dark circles under her eyes began to fade. She slept more soundly, no longer bolting awake in a panic at the sound of a breeze rattling the windows.

But some fears don’t fade—they just grow quiet, lurking in the back of the mind, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

The creature was never far from her thoughts. No matter how sunny the days were, no matter how safe she felt, Evelina couldn’t forget the icy grip of its claws around her throat, the way it had moved like smoke through the rain. She kept her distance from bathroom windows. She avoided even the smallest, manmade puddles in the school parking lot, stepping around them with exaggerated care. And when the wind picked up, carrying even the faintest scent of moisture, she would freeze.

But the storms never came.

Time has a way of healing wounds, however, and as months slipped by, Evelina began to relax, little by little. Her parents noticed the change, watching her closely. They still spoke in hushed voices when they thought she couldn’t hear, but even they began to believe their troubles were over.

Evelina eventually started leaving the house more often, venturing further from the safety of their dry, window-locked home. She even managed to make a few friends—acquaintances, really. They knew nothing of her past, and she preferred to keep it that way. They would never understand, and that was fine with her. If she was ever going to truly heal, she had to put the events in Georgia behind her.  In fact, she was determined to do so.

It shouldn’t have come as any surprise then that when she received the invitation, she accepted it.

It came just a few weeks before her eighteenth birthday. A girl from her class—Nina, one of the few people who had tried to draw Evelina out of her shell—approached her at lunch, a bright smile on her face.

“Hey, Evey, I’ve got some friends heading out to Lake Havasu for the weekend,” she said casually, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “My parents are letting me bring a few people, and I was thinking… maybe you’d like to come?”

Evelina blinked, caught off guard. Lake Havasu. A massive, sparkling body of water out in the middle of the desert. She’d heard about it, seen pictures—the clear, blue-green water, the houseboats, the people laughing and splashing in the shallows. Her heart clenched.

“Uh, I don’t know…” she began, glancing away.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Nina insisted, her eyes shining with excitement. “We’ll be out in the sun, relaxing. No stress. No school. You can just… chill, you know? It’s not often we get a chance to cool off in the water.”

The water.

Evelina swallowed hard, her thoughts racing. It was true that she had avoided water at all costs—no pools, no showers, nothing. But… it was different, wasn’t it? A lake was safe. It wasn’t rain. It wasn’t falling from the sky, wasn’t soaking into her skin, summoning it. It was just a lake. A big, still body of water.

Safe.

“I… I’ll think about it,” she mumbled, clutching the strap of her bag.

Nina’s smile widened, relief flooding her face. “Great! Think it over, okay? Let me know by tomorrow.”

Evelina nodded absently, turning away as Nina’s voice faded into the background. Her mind whirled. Could she do it? Could she force herself to go?

She hadn’t been near a large body of water since they’d moved. It had always seemed too dangerous, too risky. But it wasn’t like it would be raining. The skies were clear, the forecast sunny and dry. What could happen?

Maybe it’s time to try, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. Maybe it’s time to start living again.

So, with a deep, shaky breath, Evelina made her decision not to allow her fear to control her any longer.

She would go.

* * * * * *

The day of the trip dawned bright and cloudless, the sun beating down on the shimmering surface of Lake Havasu. Evelina sat stiffly in the backseat of Nina’s car, clutching a towel and change of clothes. Excitement was in the air, the other girls chatting and laughing as they sped down the highway, the wind whipping through their hair.

It was the first time Evelina had been away from home in months. The first time she had allowed herself to be near so much water. Her palms were clammy, her gaze darting nervously out the window as they pulled into the parking lot, the lake stretching out before them in a glittering expanse of blue.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Nina said softly, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

Evelina nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “Yeah… beautiful.”

They spent the morning lounging on the beach, the sun hot on their backs. Evelina kept to the shallows, dipping her toes in cautiously, her eyes never leaving the water’s surface. The other girls splashed and played, diving into the deeper areas, their laughter ringing out across the lake.

It felt… almost normal. Secure.

She found herself smiling, relaxing inch by inch as the hours passed. Maybe she had been overreacting. Maybe it was all in her head. Maybe…

And then, just as she began to let herself believe it, the sky darkened.

Evelina froze, her blood running cold as she glanced up. Thick, heavy clouds rolled in from the horizon, blotting out the sun. The wind picked up, rustling the palm fronds along the shore. A low, rumbling growl of thunder echoed in the distance.

No. No, not here. Not now.

“Looks like we might get a storm,” someone called out, their voice light and unconcerned. “Maybe we should head back soon.”

Panic gripped Evelina’s chest, squeezing tight. She spun around, her eyes wide, scanning the lake. The water, so calm and inviting just moments ago, seemed darker now, the surface rippling ominously.

And then, she saw it.

A shadow. Deep beneath the water, something moved, long and sinuous, its shape shifting and twisting. Evelina’s breath hitched.

It was here.

It happened so quickly she scarcely had time to react.

The creature surged upward, a dark, writhing mass breaking the surface. Evelina screamed as invisible claws wrapped around her legs, yanking her backward into the lake. The water closed over her head, suffocating her in an instant.

She struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was too strong. It dragged her deeper, pulling her away from the shore. Her friends’ panicked shouts echoed distantly above, muffled by the water. She tried to scream, bubbles spilling from her lips.

It had found her.

* * * * * *

The creature’s grip tightened around her legs, dragging her through layers of shadows and silt, further and further from the surface. Panic surged through her, her lungs burning as she desperately attempted to break free.

Above her, dimly through the churning water, she could see blurred shapes—her friends, standing at the shore, screaming and pointing. Their voices were faint, muted by the distance and the water pressing in around her ears. She reached out, her fingers clawing toward the surface, but the beast yanked her down sharply, wrenching her arm.

No, no, no… Her thoughts raced wildly, panic and fear clouding her mind. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. The water was all-consuming, squeezing the air from her lungs, and still, the creature pulled her deeper. Her legs flailed uselessly, her movements becoming sluggish and weak.

Then, with a sudden burst of strength, the creature propelled her violently toward the surface. Evelina’s body broke through the water in a spray of droplets, gasping desperately for air. She had only a split second to take in the scene—the wide-eyed horror on her friends’ faces, the ominous, darkening sky overhead—before the creature flung her high into the air.

Her body twisted as she arced through the sky. The wind whipped at her wet hair, her vision spinning dizzily. And then, with a sickening force, she was slammed back down into the water.

Pain exploded through her chest as she hit, her ribs aching with the impact. She tried to scream, but the water once more rushed into her mouth, preventing it. The creature didn’t let go. Again and again it yanked her down, its claws cutting deep into her flesh.

Her friends’ voices were shrill and panicked, ringing out over the lake. “Evelina! What’s happening? Somebody do something! Help her!”

But there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t see the creature’s massive form, couldn’t see its talons tearing at her skin.

Evelina lashed out, her foot finally connecting with something solid. The creature growled—a deep, rumbling vibration that she could feel reverberating through her bones. And then it lifted her again, smashing her into the water’s surface with resounding force. Her head snapped back, pain flaring through her skull. Spots danced in front of her eyes, her vision blurring.

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the creature released her.

Evelina floated for a moment, dazed and disoriented, her body aching from head to toe. She could barely keep herself afloat, her arms and legs trembling with exhaustion. Why— she thought dully. Why did it let go?

But then, in the dark water below, she saw movement.

Dozens of small, shadowy shapes, swirling and darting around her legs, their forms just barely visible against the murk. Her heart stuttered, her breath catching in her throat. No…

They were smaller. Much smaller. Each one no bigger than a house cat. But they moved with the same fluid, eerie grace as the creature that had attacked her in Georgia—the same sinuous, unnatural motions that made her skin crawl.

The creature hadn’t let her go.

It was feeding her to its young.

A sob wrenched from her chest, mingling with the water as the first tiny claws raked across her leg. Searing pain shot through her. Instinctively, she retaliated, but more of them swarmed up, circling her in a frenzied whirl of movement. They clawed and bit, tearing at her skin, ripping through the thin fabric of her swimsuit.

“No, please—” she gasped, her voice lost in the water. She twisted, trying to fight them off, but there were too many. Too many.

The small creatures latched onto her arms, her legs, their tiny teeth sinking deep into her flesh. She did her best to scream, thrashing wildly as they tore at her skin, each bite sending a fresh wave of agony through her body. Blood clouded the water around her, dark and thick, staining the lake’s depths, as her lungs filled with water.

Above her, her friends continued begging and pleading for help, their voices frantic. She could see their faces, pale and mortified, their eyes wide with terror.

But they couldn’t help her. No one could.

The pain was overwhelming. The creatures swarmed over her, their tiny, clawed limbs digging into her sides, her back, her neck. She tried to fight, tried to push them away, but her strength was draining fast. The water around her churned, saturated by the writhing bodies of the creatures.

One of them latched onto her shoulder, its claws hooking into the muscle.  Her arm went numb. Her legs wouldn’t move. She could feel them tearing at her flesh, stripping away muscle and sinew, ripping her apart piece by piece.

“Help her! Oh my god, she’s—she’s—” one of her friends wailed, the sound cutting through the chaos.

But there was no help. No rescue. The lake turned red around her as her friends watched helplessly from the shore.

And then, with a sudden, violent yank, the brood pulled her under—and the world went dark.

Above, on the beach, her friends stood frozen in horror. The lake was a churning, swirling mass of red, the water frothing and foaming. And then, slowly, it began to still.

The surface smoothed out, the blood dissipating, fading away into the dark water. The tiny creatures vanished, melting back into the depths. The only sign of what had happened was a faint ripple, a lone wave breaking against the shore.

Evelina was gone.

* * * * * *

Within hours, the lake was cordoned off, police and emergency responders swarming the area. Divers searched the depths, combing through the murky water for any sign of her. They found nothing. No blood, no scraps of fabric, no remains.

It was as if Evelina had never been there at all.

The authorities chalked it up to an accident—a tragic drowning, nothing more. But those who had seen it, who had witnessed Evelina’s body flung around and torn apart by something unseen, knew the truth.

Something hungry lurked in the water. And it had devoured Evelina alive, piece by piece.

The lake remained closed for months, rumors spreading like wildfire. But eventually, people forgot, as they are wont to do when the novelty of a tragedy wanes. The stories faded, replaced by newer, more mundane horrors.

But deep beneath the surface of Lake Havasu, hidden in its depths, the nameless, invisible things that had consumed Evelina McIntyre slumbered, waiting for rain.