Umbrella for no one

The rain patters against the pavement in a slow monotonous drone. It -though not it alone- caused the world to split into thirds; those of which who continue contently indoors, those of which who watch sadly from the barred windows, and those of which who are locked out. But everywhere the rain continues to fall. It stops for no one.

Everywhere is a ghost town with the wind blowing the last remnants of inhabitants into the distance. But somehow, somewhere, someone stands alone. When the clouds opened up and ate the sun everyone ran away. Blinded, she ran for cover and screamed for help, calling into the nothingness. “Don’t leave me here,” she pleaded into the silence. “Where are you going?” she asked the oblivion. But the doors closed, not feeling any sympathy for those who hadn’t been able to slip under the crack in the nick of time.

They had locked her out.

And it was then the monster left its lair.

It crept its way through the tangled web of emotions, ripping through the scabs of the freshly made wounds, and captured its prey. She whimpered from her corner of the world. The monster began to tear her apart with its taunts, echoing back her every worry and fear. “No one cares,” a malevolent voice hissed. “You are a pathetic worthless thing,” the monster etched into her brain. She shivered in the cold, demanding, yelling, and then begging that no…. “I-I m-matter,” she stammered doubtfully only to be answered with a malicious laughter. “You are alone; expelled, ignored, and forgotten.” Her voice suddenly disappeared into the whirlwind, leaving her completely silent. “You are simply a memory of something unpleasant,” it sneered. And then she began to cry.

She fell shivering into a heap on the ground, not even noticing the prickle of cold rain on her bare skin. She was broken now; the pieces falling every which way, falling into scars. She had lost and had become merely an empty vessel, something with no value.

And people rushed by her by seeing only someone else who also had forgotten their umbrella. They passed her by without a second thought. She wasn’t worth a question; she wasn’t worth an effortless smile, not even worth a simple acknowledgment that she did indeed exist. And most of all, she wasn’t worth a friend, wasn’t worth sharing an umbrella with. And that’s the thing about crying in the rain – no one will notice that those splashes of water aren’t simply raindrops.

Comments and constructive criticism welcome.