The Lady In Red

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(Photo by Ronaldo Santos from Pexels)

Thirty minutes before the downpour the sky was as clear as any object could have been after a merry scrub down. Lest I be drawn into a dialectic debate, let me hasten to clarify that the allusion was strictly metaphorical. A magnificent and almost spotless canopy of blue punctuated with a few wisps of leisurely floating clouds accorded one the deceit of a promising day.

Soon the rain came down in thick and purposeful sheets and the sheer force made the water bounce off the marble tiles surrounding the condominiums. While people with foresight and prescience unfurled their umbrellas, the more lackadaisical ones were either forced to run full tilt risking a slip, and more than a few broken bones, or to take refuge in the lobbies of residential complex.

I am not sure whether I heard the scream or the thud first. In fact, the scream might even have been the squall accompanying the rain. The steaming hot cup of tea dropped from my hands as I saw the flailing arms and legs fly past my very own eyes. My voice was hopelessly stuck in my throat. Although hurtling down at a dizzying pace, the girl seemed to be floating down in slow motion. She was all in White. White and wet. Shirt. Trouser. One wildly whirling arm even seemed to wave at me.

Contact. White turned red as I turned away. Later on, someone told me it took three days for the stains to be completely wiped out.

(Word Count: 250)

#TellTaleThursday withAnshu & Priya

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