The Portrait

The sky was no longer blue, but an assortment of colors. The clouds had left, fed up with being puppets. All that was left were the umbrellas and their metallic handling.

 

                Rhian used to reach for an umbrella every day and came up short every time. She watched her friends casually reach for theirs and hold on with all of their strength. At first, they were excited to grip onto the umbrella, for it had been a first time experience and they were not guaranteed to catch one. But now �" efforts in catching one were irrelevant; they came so frequent. Rhian has not caught one, not a single time. Every time she watched her friends catch one, she flung her body forward, reaching for the umbrellas.  Sometimes they were too high, sometimes they moved too fast, sometimes, people took the umbrella she was after. There was always a reason as to why Rhian never handled an umbrella. This used to make her cry but now, she simply glances and continues on her way.  She no longer cared for the umbrellas or their bright, strange colors. She no longer minded the cheers or the laughter that surrounded her whenever someone caught their very first or habitual umbrella. No longer was she fazed with walking to school and watching kids slowly float down the path with their umbrella. No, the feeling of being left out was nonexistent now. Besides, she rather liked her new path to school. It was simple, isolated and perfect for her. It took her an extra fifteen minutes to get to classes this way, but that was okay too. School never excited her so what was the point of showing up on time.

                The sky was no longer blue �" now it was a mixture of oranges and greens and yellows and purples. It’s as if the skies were an artist’s canvas and it was becoming a large portrait of splotches. Only on occasion does she see the sun, and that is usually through the cracks of two umbrellas separated. Nighttime was just the same �" she has not seen a moon in years. It was not always like this though; there was a time when she would count the clouds racing each other as they went by. It made her giggle, seeing them trash talk each other and drifts fast the surface. Sometimes they put on a show and all of her neighbors came out to watch them. The shows were fantastic - who knew glops of nothing were more amusing than humans. They used to get out of hand though, since the crowds grew bigger and bigger.  Some say it was the sudden attention, others said they were tired of putting on a show. It was a form of some kind of abuse, one psychologist suggested. It wouldn’t matter; the clouds left and decided to never come back. They felt underappreciated and used. They grew grumpy and started cursing the humans beneath them, and of course, threw tantrums. Their tantrums were horrible and destructive. They knocked out cites before and nearly killed most of the elderly. That was the benefit of the clouds being gone; no more violence. It just grew lonesome without them, Rhian supposed.

                Many thought she was insane, for she deeply missed the clouds. They were a******s, but they were what she’d consider her friends. After all, Rhian was an a*****e. After the umbrellas came, and she was denied access, she slowly grew irritated with people and even her dearest friends kept their distance. She has always had an issue with communication, which resulted into losing her best friend. They had a dispute between opinions and she hated when people tested her thoughts. Not even the close bond help with the girl could stop her from ending the relationship. Rhian felt as if it were her against the world �" or her against the umbrellas.

                                One afternoon, she was walking to her favorite shop. Her attention was caught upon her cellphone where all of her favorite music was trapped inside. It was not easy trapping this music; for she was into upbeats. These never stand still and they are hard to find. She considered herself amazing for this. As she walked, she caught sight from the corner of her eyes. It was a man, probably a traveler, reaching for an umbrella. His eyes were fixed on a blue and green patterned one �" one completely familiar. He had determination in his worn out green eyes, and a smile on the corner of his rigid lips. Rhian wanted to chuckle at the man that jumped his floppy body from the ground, in order to reach for that umbrella, only to continuously come up short. It was despicable to see this. This was her only a couple of years ago, but at least she knew when enough was enough. Seeing this pitiful man made her stomach turn. She loathed that people still tried to reach those bloody things.

A family from the opposite corner walked down the street, only a couple of inches away from the man. A little boy was with them, gazing at the man who struggled for the umbrella. His small, undeveloped body stood still, even after his parents continued on their ways. It only took a few more steps for mother goose to realize that her little goose was no longer following, and that’s when the father duck stopped too. ”C’mon, boy,” the father’s gruff voice calmed Rhian. Finally, she heard structure. The kid quickly snapped out of his daydream and looked over at his ginger father. “He’s reaching for the blue one.”

The tall man’s eye’s crinkled and from across the street, Rhian could hear him sigh. This must not be new to him, she could imagine. Luckily, she did not have to worry about explaining the same thing over and over again to a child. “Yes, yes, very well so.” The mother was in a rush. She wore a black, mid-cut dress and her hair was up in a high-end bun. She must work at the Tower. Maybe she had a meeting in a few and this kid was keeping her. The father touched the boy’s shoulder and he quickly jolted away, rushing to the man’s side. The man only semi paid attention to the kid, considering his eyes were still fixed on the umbrella.

Rhian pulled her headphones out of her ears and wrapped them around her phone then tucked both items into her pocket. Her curiosity was getting the best of her. She could not explain the looks in both the little boy’s and old travel’s eyes. They looked at that plain blue and green umbrella like it was the best thing they’ve ever set their eyes on. Both stood in silence, admiring the floating piece of cloth and metal. For a second, the traveler looked down at the kid and then back up at the umbrella.

Idiots �" she thought. People were going to stare at them.

Then the boy did the unthinkable. He touched the filthy traveler on his jean leg. The old man looked down and then crouched so the boy could whisper something into his ear. The man smiled at this secret and nodded in agreement. The boy’s smile grew wide and his missing teeth were visible, which made the mad chuckle a jolly chuckle.

“Let us go now, son,” the father demanded, but the boy reacted as if his father was not there and opened his arms for the man to grab him. Once he had a good hold on the kid, he held him in the air to reach for the blue and green umbrella. His mother gasped out loud and pulled her clutch, hitting it against the man’s back. “Put my kid down!” she screamed as her husband jerked the traveler’s body. The traveler remained silent and wore a graceful smile as he admired the joy in the boy’s face as he reached for the umbrella. This was the most precious thing he has seen in a very long time. 

“I will call the police!” the mother cried out once more, but the elder man was mute. “I almost �" I almost got it! Almost… almost…” the tiny boy struggled to have a firm grip on the umbrella. Every time he reached for the handle, it was as if it had become transparent, slipping through his fingers. He wanted to cry and he had become frustrated with himself. “I can’t get it!” tears slipped down his pasty cheeks. “Keep trying, sport,” the old man whispered wearily. His hands and back were going to give out from the beatings he felt. He knew that it was only a matter of time before this father struck him a blow to the face, but he did not care. This was worth any form of punishment. He wanted this umbrella more than anyone did, but helping another person have it was worth so much more to him. “I can’t do it!” the little ginger boy cried out again. “Focus, you can do that, right? You’re a good kid. Focus!” the traveler wanted him to get this umbrella �" it had to be the first and last good thing he’s done in life before he dies.

Only a couple more jolts forward and the boy’s miniature hands gripped the umbrella tightly and he gasped in happiness. “I got it, I got it!!!” he screamed out loud, but the old man’s body grew feeble from the blows to the back of the head. “Son!” the father screamed out loud, for his son was now being elevated by the umbrella. No one really understood the effects that the umbrella had until they’ve handled one themselves. This boy was merely a child, so he was quickly lifted off the ground.  The mother, in a state of astonishment and disbelief, took a step back. Neither she nor anyone in her household has ever caught an umbrella.

Rhian watched from afar. She noticed the mother’s stunned expression and opened her mouth to verbalize, but she couldn’t. She had forgotten she was not good with words. “Get him, Jack!” finally, she came to her senses and called out. This father, called Jack, hopped on all two’s, reaching for his son’s foot. The little ginger boy laughed and smiled and looked beneath him as the ground became smaller and smaller to him. This was the best trip he has ever been on. He was sure to tell all of his friends about this tomorrow at recess. His small frame flew without a bit of worry in his bones; while on the other hand, his parents were frightened. They had not realized that the umbrellas were just on protocol and that their son could guide himself home when he was ready.

The old traveler lay flat on the ground, his aged body curled up in a ball. Rhian could not tell if he was dead or not, but no one paid him any attention. Not even the police after the parents called them for their boy. Once they were explained the umbrella’s operating system, the sighed with sudden relief and went off to work, almost as if nothing had happened.

Rhian looked at that man from across the street for a few more minutes, with a sudden grief. It was mid-fall, so the winds were quite harsh and he had no coat. She really wondered if he were dead or not. Maybe if she had given him her coat, she would not feel like she did not do anything for the guy. With a shrug, she crossed the street and ducked her head as the umbrellas above were landing with their riders on them. When she got close enough to the man, she noticed him breathing and sighed with relief. Quickly, before he woke up, she jerked out of her jacket and although it was not big enough for him, placed it above his bruised shoulders. The man muffled a bit, but did not open his eyes. Luckily, he was still unconscious.

 

This was not enough, she thought. It was getting colder and eventually, the weather would just get worse as the night continued. Rhian’s body began to shake and vibrate, due to the chill but she did not once reach for that jacket that lay on the man. She contemplated on what to do with him now. She couldn’t very well bring him home because she had parents of her own and she knew they’d beat him too.  Instead, she reached for her phone and dialed the ambulance.

Once they scooped him up, she carefully snuck away in fear of questioning. After all, she was just a simple bystander.

It was night time when she was already walking home. She had forgotten about the shop and about what she needed. That was not on her mind now, no, she was thinking about the ginger boy and the old traveler. It confused her �" why was this on her mind? It happened and it was in the past. Why dwell on it? She tried to shake the thought off of her mind.

When she turned the corner to her block, she felt the cool winds hit the back of her neck and she felt relief that she helped the old traveler. He’s warm and in a bed now, she thought. This bloody cold would have killed him.

Rhian looked above at the umbrellas that stood still. It was getting late and protocol was nearly over. Even the umbrellas had to sleep eventually. She sighed at the sight and then looked back at the block ahead of her. Her speed grew a little faster and now she was just outside her front porch. Again, Rhian looked behind her. She did not fully understand what happened at night time with the umbrellas. Maybe this was her chance to see. She took a seat on her cold, broken porch and watched, wrapping her hands around her arms. Still she had not regretted giving that man her coat.  

The breeze grew a bit more, but she did not mind. It felt nice against her face and she inhaled the smells of the leaves. There were a few abandoned umbrellas drifting down her block, but she paid no attention to them. Most were stumbling into the trees or bumping into cars and setting off alarms. Even the umbrellas had their rejects. Rhian sighed again.

One umbrella, a beige one, crossed her path. It was a large one and a solid color. On the top lay a few marks; it must have rubbed off the rubbish. She was confused when it stopped in its path. It floated still and for a few seconds. She felt compelled to go up to it and shoe it off, but it did not work like that. Instead, she stood up and walked closer to get a better look.

Standing only a few centimeters away from the umbrella, she expected it to fly away but it did not. Her eyebrows narrowed and she had grown frustrated, not fully understanding what was going on. For a second, she was personifying this umbrella and wanted to push it out of her way but she stood still. Again, that compulsion that she felt a few years ago came over her.  She wanted to reach for it; she wanted to hope that she’d hold it or that it would at least go away.

Shifting her body forward, she reached for the umbrella, not knowing what to expect. The anticipation grew inside of her and when she felt that cool feel of metal brush against her hand, she shivered and that emptiness and understanding of the unknown had finally been fulfilled.

 

 

Author's Note

This story is apart of an ongoing collection of short stories of this genre. Since this is the first story of the collection, I would really appreciate honest opinions and even some constructive criticism. Thank you!

Reviews

[13point9]

I love so much about this. You have a really strong sense for (magical) realism and the pace and tone are spot on for this kind of story. It has a really whimsical but sort of downtrodden feel that makes me feel like I'm gliding along with the umbrellas and plodding along with your narrator... somehow at the same time, if that makes any sense. I'm in love with the world you've created, for starters. It's beautiful and mysterious and everything is so alive; each new bit is delightfully surprising. The a*****e clouds and this line--"It was not easy trapping this music; for she was into upbeats"--are brilliant. The point of view of your narrator as an observer to a passing street scene works really well, sort of like we've just stopped to peer in, and I'm really glad you didn't get didactic about it and straight hammer out a moral toward the end. (The way the end drifts in and away with the last few umbrellas feels so natural and is really endearing to the stragglers, I love that. Also it concludes beautifully and I feel certain the whole thing'll set in for me if I sit on it for a bit.) That lingering mystery, with the droppd comment about the Tower and protocol, carry the story and my interest. I love the way you pull off the description. You always stay very close to your narrator, it's never forced, and it's quirky and interesting but clear enough that I get just the right sense of what's going on and where I should be focusing without zooming in too much and getting tangled in the fine-print.

My only criticism would be that while many of your lines work so well because of the odd turns they take and the quirky description, some of it's a bit awkward. To niptpick, I'm not sure why splotches would have portraits (I love the comparison to a painting and I realize it's supposed to be messy, but the phrasing could do with some fine-tuning) and descriptions of the strangers tend to be a bit clumsier than the rest (I'm never sure where they physically are though they must be moving around, "undeveleoped" is a strange word, and you don't have to clarify that the father's named Jack; it's easy to pick up). The dialogue's a tad cheesy in paragrpah 10 and the pace of the story gets funky in paragraphs 8-11 (the description stays steady, but you're trying to have a lot of stuff in the background with the parents freaking out and I can't tell if they're outright attacking the traveller or just lacklusterly prodding at him a bit). Keep in mind these are really itty-gritty details I'm harping about here, though. The whole thing is so well enisioned and written. I really adore it start-to-finish and I look forward to the rest of the series if you post it. :)

[Mizo4]

Btw I think this would be nice in a book as it's good. Keep writing and know you are talented :D

[Mizo4]

Nice. I enjoyed reading this. I liked the imagery created. It was usual and memorable.

[Tai Ryens]

Bloody christ, Jay, I regret not having read this earlier. I feel whimsical, enthralled, engrossed in the world by which you narrate such a touching story. You certainly have a talent with the magical, and a talent with reality, and by blending both you've created a surreal universe that will possibly haunt me for days more (a good thing, I assure you).
Though, it's not the stunning illustrations by which you portray such a wondrous and magical world that enraptured me, but the complexity of your characters. You've detailed in prose what would take me pages and pages to do, and the appearance of the narrator as a bystander makes me feel as if I've quite literally leapt into your world and explored a little.
Not to mention the societal structure of your story, by the reactions of Rhian's mother and father, you've further enthralled me by implementing an unsaid base of rules by which life must be lived, and by diverting from what constitutes as normal, terror is inspired in her parents and they try desperately to stop her. I've taken that as a metaphor for Rhina slowly finding her own way and place in society, however odd, and her parents trying desperately to stop her from becoming different, becoming something feared because of its mystery.
Everything about this ties together so stunningly and it is only further beautified by the intense mystery of your piece. I felt every twist and felt even more engrossed with every new curiosity that arose within me, a need to know more about the world you write about.

I'm in love with this. I've learned something from this, and, writer to writer, I thank you so happily.
As for criticisms, I believe 13point9 is spot on with his comment that some lines in the overall story were a bit odd. For example, I picked up that the father's name was Jack before you mentioned it and in doing so, you threw me off slightly (but no worries, as you captured me once more with just the next line).
Well done, Jay, really. This has got to be one of the best stories I've read in quite awhile.