A/N - Wrote this 2 years ago for English homework. (Yes, I know. Writing fanfiction for English homework. The horror. The shame.) It's very loosely based off a scene from a manga I read, but I can't remember which manga. For those who want to know, it's the 2nd paragraph that is practically a literary description of said scene from said unknown manga.

Disclaimer - I do not own the manga the story was inspired by.


Umbrella

I got my first umbrella when I was five. It was bright yellow with shiny, smooth plastic and a hooked handle. I was so proud of it that I pranced around with it all day long, showing everyone I saw my smart new umbrella. It was a symbol of growing up. No longer would I be a little, preschool baby stumbling around in a bright yellow raincoat which covered me from head to toe. I would be a grown up kindergartner with a shiny umbrella which I could put up when the rain came down.

It was a rainy way when The Accident happened. I was walking home with Mama after a day at school. One hand holding onto Mama's, the other holding my little, yellow umbrella. Like usual, I was telling Mama about my day at school and Mama was smiling at what I said. It was so sudden. There was a loud crack. A split second of shocked silence as a load of steel beams fell, then cries and yells resounded along the street as I felt someone give me a strong push backwards. When I recovered from landing on the wet street, the first thing I saw was my yellow umbrella. Except, it wasn't only yellow anymore. There was red on it as well. Eventually, I would realize the red was blood. Mama's blood.

My second umbrella was an old adult's umbrella. It was too big and too heavy for my child's body and thin arms. There was no joy in receiving it. The memory of red splattered yellow was still too fresh. It was so hard to open, that more often than not, I would drop it into the mud. After a while, the brown stains stopped washing out and left behind areas of darkness.

One day, I noticed how similar the areas of darkness were to Mama's blood. In a fit of panic, I threw the umbrella as far as I could with my measly pre-teen strength, and ran home as fast as I could as if demons were at my heels. However, it seemed that evil had made its way home ahead of me. A police officer was at my front door. He had come to tell me that my Papa was in hospital. It was through a hazy mist that I heard the sporadic word; 'tried', 'suicide', 'hospital', 'coma'. Papa was never the same after The Accident, but it was only then that I realized just how much it affected him.

I received my third umbrella the year I entered high school. It was black, lightweight and once folded up, small enough to fit comfortably in my bag. Papa said that a teenage girl should have a teenage girl's umbrella. Black is good, any markings would stay hidden. Lightweight is good, I would no longer drop it. Small is good, it could stay hidden in my bag until it was needed. Something I could forget until the next rainy day.

Now, as I walk through the rain with my umbrella up, I think, would this expectation to see blood and stains of darkness on my umbrella ever disappear?


A/N - Constructive criticism is welcome.