The Drops

One form to the other, back and forth, as the air warmed the descendants, mutation ensued. Vapor and apples then droplets and cobblers, the children watched as fate made its choice on the grass. They stood and ran like from a mustached villain. Henrik caught an ounce of chocolate pudding in his palm and grinned. All the yellow rose bushes hid his sight from her but not her sweet, ringing voice from him. “C’mon kid, your queen has built you a castle and wishes you would tell her it’s magnificent.” She peered through the roses just as he tugged at the back of her pants. “I could’ve gotten dirty, your mom-jesty, but I got in just in time.” “Go look,” and she patted him on the back.



This time he knew his cabbage was from the sky. As he stole a bite, he could taste the stratospheric clouds. It was waiting on the dinner table with the rest of their later meal. Mom came in and walked straight to her bedroom catching her red and white dress on the oven door momentarily, which made it slam closed.



Acting as a brick of the fortress wall, the plant book held the lies between its covers still. How could they possibly come from the ground? They’d have to be covered in dirt to come from under it. Yeah, they better have it labeled as fiction. A slight movement caught his attention from the oven, a little girl watching her dinner bake was looking through to his mom’s empty oven racks in amazement. She had black hair and grey eyes he could see that, but her turkey blocked the rest of her. Then it occurred to him maybe they should be communicating, considering the situation. He got her attention back from the precipitation out the window behind him. Three layers of glass taught him after a few hellos that they couldn’t really hear each other. Maybe he could write to her, so he ran for his color pencils and found some napkins to write on. Henrik forgot pleasant greetings and went straight to “Do you know what’s going on?” After ten napkins, it was realized that she couldn’t read. He ran to his mother.



Jean sighed. She should have gotten their attention earlier. They’d never believe there was a boy in the oven. She wondered if he melted since she was looking at her parents the second he’d vanished. She got up and went to the window at their garden being drizzled on by the oncoming storm. “Mom, when does the food start to come down with the raindrops?’