"Rain, Rain"

By PumpkinSpiceBean (Alex)

This short story was absolutely amazing and I loved it when I read it! I loved the detail and the everything! The colors in this story is really cool as well!

Our very own Quark wrote this: "Rain, Rain..."

"Two cans of spray paint in my hands, one in bubblegum pink, the other in very 80’s teal, eyes up, and dare written on my wrist. This. Is. Stupid. I think to myself. A few feet behind me, Marlowe taps her foot on the blacktop. Impatient as always. I sigh and stuff the spray cans into the drawstring bag at my feet. Hoisting the polyester bag over my shoulder, I step up to the ladder on the side of Jeremy’s Grocery and start climbing. Once I was halfway up the ladder, I look back down at Marlowe’s neon green hair and thumbs up. One step, then the next. Right foot up, then the left. I’m breathing heavily, already hating the height. I step out onto the roof, my knees shaking more than San Francisco in 1906. This is stupid. This is stupid. I slide the bag off my shoulder and set it on the ground with a faint metallic clatter. I slowly squat down to retrieve the cans from the bag and start swirling them.

The glass marble in the can rushes around the base, a swirling vortex of vibrant paint surely forming. Sediments in the paint are mixed into the watery base, the pigments evened, like a smoothie in a blender. I take two steps forward and stop swirling, aiming the can of my signature pink at the ground. What to paint. With quick, short strokes, I start to form a pair of lips, pursed and plump. I step back and shuffle through my bag for the teal. Another color of my “aesthetic”. A quick swirl and I’m back to painting, forming a light circle around the lips, adding some small details, the bubble starting to come together. I step around to the other side of the painting, keeping the line as clean as I could with my trembling hands. The circle is completed and I straighten my back, leaving the can open on the ground next to me.

A scream escapes my mouth, “What the heck!” Rain pours down my back. I think. It was sunny not two milliseconds ago. I look up for the first time. A pane of bottle green glass stands in front of me in an iron wrought gate. I look back down at my feet. My painting has disappeared.

I take two steps forward, pushing the gate open. The grey fog beyond it dissipates and I see the roof of the grocery store once again. I do a quick 360. No rain, no gate. I grab my bag and walk back around to the teal can, careful as I can be. The rain is back, and the paint can is gone, along with the mouth full of gum. Once more, I’m staring at an iron wrought gate.

Of course, I scream again, walking backwards. I bump into something else and snap turn on my heels. “Sorry!” I exclaim, seeing that it was a person. A real person.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” the person returns. They were tall, stork-like with long limbs and long violet hair. Their kaleidoscopic blue eyes peer into mine, purple eyebrow raising in confusion. “I don’t know you.”

“Well,” I say, my pitch higher than normal, “I don’t know you.”

“Oh, stars...” they whispered. “You’re new.”

“New?” my head tilts automatically.

“Welcome to Chroma.” They sigh. “You want an umbrella?”

I pause. The rain streams down my bubblegum pink hair and teal hoodie. “Um, actually, that’d be nice, thanks.” They grab my wrist and tug me into a busy town center, the rainbow masonry of the cottage like buildings glowing under the slick rain. Equally colorful people roamed the open front shops under their own umbrellas. Men, women, children, and babies with seemingly unnatural hair and eye colors were everywhere, playing in the puddles, hustling home with arms full of unnaturally hued foods, living life like most people do.

Of course, with my dyed hair, they don’t seem to take notice of me and the violet haired crane dragging me to one particularly large booth. Painted wooden crates are stacked on stained glass shelves, dozens of umbrellas lay folded in each. Some were monochrome, some various colored panels. The person leading me grabs my shoulders before I can take a step any closer to them, “Let’s see. Pink hair, turquoise-teal eyes, rosy face. Follow me.”

I, having no desire to do anything else, followed her to a row of crates. An older woman with tangerine hair, brown at its roots, hobbled over and looks me over. She then shuffles through a green crate on the end of the shelf and retrieves a simple yellow umbrella.

“Wait, why can’t I have that one?” I ask, pointing at an umbrella the same shade as my hoodie.

“Shush,” my guide hisses, “Don’t touch.”

I shove my hands in my black jean pockets, scared to question it anymore. The old woman holds out the yellow umbrella and my guide gestures for me to take it. I slowly reach for it, hesitant. The instant I touch it, something happens. The colors around me visibly saturate and I see hues scientists claim invisible to the human eye. By the time I fully grasp what is happening, the umbrella is open and above my head, rain no longer pattering on the twin buns on my head.

I’m mute; the world is silent excepting the drip drop of nearby puddles.

I look over to my guide, a stuttering mess, “Wha-.”

“I know. Just shush,” the guide says, a small smirk playing on their lips. “Welcome to Chroma. I’m Zoli.”

“Stevie,” I laugh, high on my new view of the town, “Hey, so could I go get my friend Marlowe? She’d love this place! She has epic green hair and pretty golden eyes, she’d fit right in!”

Zoli masks a frown, “I... I guess so. Just be careful.”

I nod enthusiastically and run out into the street, umbrella over my head, bag jumping up and down on my back. Faster, faster. Get Marlowe. So pretty! My giddy sprint took me back to the iron gate. I burst through it and jogged to the end of the roof. I fold my umbrella, no longer useful in the cool, breezy May sun.

“Marlowe!” I yell, perched over the edge of the roof on my knees, “Get up here! Quickly!”

Marlowe looks up at me, having sat down on the blacktop behind the supermarket. I wave at her, gesturing for her to climb up. She rolls her eyes, head dropping briefly before making her way over to the ladder. She climbs up lazily.

“I swear if this is some sort of prank...” she warns, pulling herself over the shallow ledge and onto the roof. Before she can finish, I grab her wrist and pull her to the teal paint can still on the ground. She tugs back.

“Stevie! What the heck are you doing?”

I pull her past the spray paint can, the umbrella in my hand ready, but still folded. I close my eyes and brace for the chilly tingle of rain on my face, but it doesn’t appear. I open one eye, then the other. In front of me are a grey roof and several metallic pipes and generator boxes. Freezing, my umbrella hand drops to my side. Marlowe is panting next to me, her wrist no longer in my grasp, hands on her knees. I spin around slowly as tears start rolling down my cheeks.

“It was right here,” I whisper, my voice rough and tremulous. A small gust ruffles our hair.

“What was-” Marlowe starts, interrupted by a nearby siren. She curses under her breath, “Stevie, we’ve gotta go. Now.”

I nod slowly, a blue glow emanating from my face that only I can see.

We climb down the ladder, my umbrella locked in my clammy hands, and take-off into a nearby neighborhood."

Show your support for Quark! I loved this and I hope you all do as well! <3

Written by PumpkinSpiceBean (Alex)

Uploaded by At314Kelvin (Ash)