The umbrella yawed sharply to one side, then suddenly to the other, making little progress against its thronging siblings caught by the same gusts. Their bearers were all generously sprinkled by the heavenly spray, but one in particular, under the most pliant spring mushroom, seemed hardly shielded at all. Rather it was as though he fought off creatures of the storm. When the soggy crossing was finally to be breached, bobbing along to the general wave he muttered, “‘Walk.' ‘Walk.' As if I might try anything else!” Immediately, like a moist gloved hand, a second umbrella brushed his face.
About the Creator
Mark Francis
Published translator of verse and original writer of haiku, senryu, lyric, occasional and genre poetry and speculative fiction.
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More stories from Mark Francis and writers in Fiction and other communities.
On Another Side of the Sun
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. In fact–nobody can hear anything, in the vacuum of space. It’s only by means of our bubble conduits, by which I mean our atmospheres, planetary or portable, in them and between them, that we can communicate over fragile lines.
By Mark Francis3 years ago in Fiction
If You Love Me, You'll Do It
I met Jason when I was five years old. I could say that I loved him from the moment I saw him. He was so handsome to me and I felt in awe by his presence. When they introduced him as the new kid in school, I wanted to be his friend right away. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember his smile and how he didn't seem shy. He appeared confident and ready to learn. I waved at him and said "hello," before anyone else could even say a word. He sat next to me, and I asked him if he wanted to be friends. He looked so happy as he said, "Yes!"
By Sidney Smith (Sid Smith)7 days ago in Fiction
Dr. Who/Three Stooges
London (Somewhere in England) It all began when Moe took a job in London, it was a job that didn't pan out, something about their job performance being underwhelming, to which Curly made the remark that their work was always underwhelming or mediocre at best, which didn't make the tall, well dressed man that towered over him very happy.
By Timothy E Jones2 days ago in Fiction
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