Run Between the Rain Drops

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a fiction story that I wrote in honor of my grandfather, (I actually wrote it before he died ironically.) He had this catch phrase that was coined two summers ago, when we were in the city (New York City), he told me that he didn't need an umbrella, he could run between the rain drops. So when I was at an art gallery I saw a picture, similar to this one, and thus this story came alive. Let me know what you guys think.

Submitted: October 13, 2009

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Submitted: October 13, 2009

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Rain Drops
The beautiful sunny day that was here all morning no longer existed. Sibyl peddled faster on her bike, hoping to avoid the rain that was threatening to come. She had left school early and skipped her afternoon classes, but that didn’t matter to her right now. She was done with school today before it even started. All she could care about was her grandfather lying in the hospital, waiting for his ticker to stop ticking.
Finally, the rain couldn’t hold off any longer. It came down in waterfalls instead of rain drops. Sibyl, deciding to play it safe, stopped by an old abandon hut overlooking the lake.A smile creped its way over Sibyl’s face as she remembered her grandfather taking her to the lake each summer to go fishing. Gran would sit inside and make batch after batch of chocolate chip cookies while Grandpa and she would sit on the lake, waiting for a bite. She remembered one time when she and her grandfather were on the hiking trails when it started pouring. Sibyl remembered to bring an umbrella and smartly offered it for her grandfather to hold because he was taller. But he refused saying he won’t get wet, he can run in between the rain drops.
Sibyl was at the lake for so long, she lost track of time. She mounted her bike and peddled as fast as she could home, realizing she was missing dinner. She ran through the door, slamming it as she flew by. She headed upstairs towards her room, but was aware that she was still had her wet things on. She walked back down the stairs to the foyer and slowly removed her wet clothing. She had some difficulty detaching her wet socks from her feet. She finally managed to wrestle her socks off her feet, but paused at a scar along the top of her foot. She traced the scar and laughed at the memory of that particular scar.

She had been running by the pool when she accidently tripped and cut open her foot. She started crying when all of a sudden her grandfather was right beside her, cradling her like a superhero saving the day. He wiped away the tears from her face and strongly carried her into the house. He grabbed the first aid kit and correctly put the ointment and disinfectant.
Sibyl asked in between sniffles, “Grandpa, are you a doctor?”
Grandpa laughed as he put on the Disney princesses band aid, “No, your grandmother taught me well.” Sibyl smiled between watery eyes…
“Sibyl, where have you been? It’s dinner time. Are you okay?” Her mother brought Sibyl back to the present time in the foyer.
Sibyl mumbled an “I’m fine” under her breath and started to walk up the stairs, but her mother stopped her, “Are you hungry? We have dinner on the table.”
Sibyl didn’t turn around, she said, “No mom. I’m tired. I just want to go upstairs to my room.”
Her mother sighed and said, “We’re going to have to talk about the classes you missed today.”
“I’m not going to talk to you about that. Just ground me or whatever you want to do to me. It’s not like I’ve suffered enough with Grandpa in the hospital.” Pissed off, Sibyl marched right up to her room.
Too angry to do homework, Sibyl threw herself onto the bed and grabbed her photo album. In there were a bunch of old family photos, ones of her when she was younger and her brothers. There were even some of family relatives that she hadn’t seen in a long time. There were also photos of her grandfather, smiling, moving around without any traces of hospital on him. It brought tears to Sibyl’s eyes knowing that her grandfather, with an IV and a feeding tube attached to his body, will never run between the rain drops again.   


© Copyright 2018 Alex Lyman. All rights reserved.

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