The sound of rain on a metal roof is unmistakable. High pitched pings and rattling reverberations make you very aware of the actions of the wether outside. I love this sound, it is soothing to me in a way little else is. It takes me back to summer nights at my grandparents house and lazy afternoons spent napping. It feels like home.
Recently I was experiencing one such summer night but this time something was off. The rain was whispering. It sounded like voices just out of earshot on my roof and all around. Whenever I would try to focus in on them they would recede only to once again appear when my mind wandered. I know not of what they spoke but it unsettled me to my core.
The morning after the enigmatic whispers I stood outside looking for their source. It was a fruitless search I knew in my heart yet I did it anyway. While I knew not a sane explanation for their origin I had caught words in their whispers enough to identify their source. They spoke of something forgotten dwelling in the sky looking down upon us all. Perhaps I you would call it a god, although the whispers did not. I fear I have gone mad but I know in my heart they spoke the truth. I suppose revelations are not always kind.