One shot book

Tip Tap

Tip Tap.
A droplet fell landing in the sink below. At first he was annoyed, an annoyance that grew with each tip and tap of the faucet but now he could care less.

Tip Tap.
At first he was confused and annoyed, the two blending in to be a perfect symphony of wondrous irritation. That confusion turned to fear as it kept tip tapping no matter what he tried.

Tip Tap.
At first he questioned the tip tapping as the fault of a ghost only to scold himself in saying ghosts weren't real.

Tip Tap.
Eventually he grew accustomed to the tipping and the tapping of the leaky faucet and let it be coming to terms with the fact that it wouldn't be changed, it didn't need to be changed. It had become a sort of old friend of his.

Tip Tap.
Came the familiar song of the faucet, singing a melody in such a unique beauty that only he could truly understand. He sang along threw hums.

Tip Tap.
Eventually his children sang along with him when they were old enough. His wife never understood them but her family was happy so so was she.

Tip Tap.
Back when he was still a child he used to be afraid of the song, he blamed it on the supernatural. Now he sees what silliness that was.

Tip Tap.
He watches fondly as his kids grow up, his wife at his side. The faithful faucet still drips.

*** *** ***
It is silent. His wife is dead, he is old and dying, his children have all left to start there own lives, and most of all, the faucet that brought the house to life with its lively tunes does not sing any longer. At first it was unnoticeable but the silence became deafening the more and more people left. He guessed it really was true, what they say, 'you only miss something when you no longer have it.' The faucet which used to be a shiny silver color was now a rusty orange and the man was slowly dying, his hair gray, his hands, face and arms wrinkled, his eyes in desperate need of glasses and his bones growing frail. He can do nothing more than sit in his home remembering the past and all that was. It is a sad end. He embraces death's sweet arms finally as his wife comes to release him from his pain and take him to who knows where, but one thing he does know. It is a place where, one day, he and his wife, along with his kids and their children can laugh together all the while the faucet TIP TAPS its joyful tune.

448 words. I know this was short but this was my first one and also I was kinda lazy. To be honest it is just a story about a man, his family and a faucet. For the last paragraph I had a specific song in mind and that was Don't fear the reaper by blue oyster cult. -Aaliyah