The Magic Umbrella–Part 1
by Susan Bruck
Myrtle was on her way home from first grade when the sky split open with a resounding crack and all the waters from the heavens seemed to pour right on her head . She stood still, unsure of where to go in the sudden deluge. The rain was so loud she couldn’t hear herself think.
Then the water stopped falling on her, although she could still hear it. She pushed her dripping hair out of her eyes and saw a boy standing next to her. She had never seen him before, which was strange, because everyone knew everyone in her little town of Grendleford. He had blond hair so pale that it was almost clear and pale blue eyes, and he had an umbrella. It wasn’t an ordinary umbrella. It was shaped like a mushroom and was bright blue and green with swirls of orange and bright yellow five-pointed stars.
“Hi, Myrtle,” he said. “Can I walk you home?”
“Sure, thanks,” said Myrtle. “Hey, wait. How do you know my name?”
“I’m Sprite,” the boy said. He bowed and the umbrella went down to the ground. He was as soaked as Myrtle within seconds. He giggled.
They skipped toward Myrtle’s house, making sure to splash in all of the puddles. Myrtle was out of breath by the time they got there because of so much splashing and laughing. When they got there, Myrtle invited Sprite in for some milk and cookies. He said he had to get home, but that he would visit the next time it rained.
“Where do you live?…” Myrtle asked, but before she could finish her question, Sprite and his fancy umbrella were gone.
Mrytle rubbed her eyes. He was really gone. Maybe she had just imagined him. She didn’t tell her brother, Sam, about Sprite. She was sure he would just laugh.
Her Dad always tucked her into bed, and when he asked her, like always, what was the most interesting thing that happened that day, she told him everything.
“Hmmm,” said her Dad. He rubbed the end of the day stubble on his chin.
“I wonder,” he said.
“What? Tell me, Daddy,” said Mrytle.
“When I was a little boy,” Mrytle loved stories about when her Dad was a child.
“When I was a little boy, my grandpa, your great grandpa, told me a story about a fairy boy who came to visit when it was raining. It seems to me that he had some kind of fancy umbrella shaped like a mushroom, too. I wonder.”
“Me, too,” said Myrtle. “I hope it rains again soon.”
But the next whole week was filled with sunshiny May days that made the flowers smile and the whole world feel glad. Mrytle kept waiting for the rain.
She woke up in the middle of the night on Friday because there was a loud clap of thunder. Lightning split the sky. She ran to the window and looked out. There, right outside her window, was Sprite with his mushroom umbrella.
He smiled and waved with both arms. The umbrella fell to the ground. Mrytle waved back. She opened the window.
“Come with me. I want to show you something,” said Sprite.
“Are you a fairy?” asked Myrtle.
“I am,” he answered. He put the umbrella back over his head, dumping water all over himself.
Myrtle was worried that if she went with him, she would be transported like in the fairy tales, but Sprite promised that he would bring her home before dawn. She couldn’t resist this adventure, but she did leave a note for her dad, just in case. Ever since her mom disappeared without a trace, Dad had been very nervous if he didn’t know where she or Sam were.
To Be Continued…
But for today, that’s my contribution to the letter . Also, I’ve been playing with my Wacom again–getting the feel of it a little bit more.
Have you ever heard this rhyme?
The Elf and the Dormouse
By Oliver Herford
Under a toadstool crept a wee elf,
Out of the rain to shelter himself.
Under the toadstool, sound asleep,
Sat a big dormouse all in a heap.
Trembled the wee Elf, frightened and yet
Fearing to fly away lest he get wet.
To the next shelter–maybe a mile!
Sudden the wee elf smiled a wee smile.
Tugged ’til the toadstool toppled in two.
Holding it over him, gaily he flew.
Soon he was safe home, dry as could be.
Soon woke the dormouse–“Good gracious me!”
“Where is my toadstool?” loud he lamented.
–And that’s how umbrellas first were invented.
I was thinking about this poem and that inspired me to start my new story. I wonder what will happen next?
Maybe there will be more tomorrow, which is “V” day–we’ll see.
In the meantime, there’s more going on with the letter “U” in the A to Z blogging Challenge.
And as always,
Thanks for stopping by