They say Mary Poppins is the only one who can fly with an umbrella.

But I guess she’s not the only one with the magic after all.

———

The umbrella didn’t stand out in any possible way. It was black, with a plain curved handle, the kind you’d see hanging by the door on rainy days.

There was nothing special about it; no spark, no markings—nothing. In fact, it was so ordinary, people looked past it.

But yet, there was always something to it that was just…different.

Whenever my fingers wrapped around its handle, it was as if some kind of energy went through my skin. As if it electricuted every single body cell of mine.

It was always like the earth suddenly turned—darker. As if the world was painted only with black and white paint.

No color.

Nothing.

And was I right.

———

It was early in August when it happened.

Large drops of water splattered on my window, slow at first, each one stretching down like teardrops. The clouds had been gathering all morning, thick and low, like they had something to say.

I hadn’t planned to go outside, as I’m not the biggest fan of rain, but something about that day was just calling my name.

Like it needed me out there.

It was the kind if pull you don’t question—not because it makes sense, but because it doesn’t. It was the same feeling I had when I found the umbrella for the first time.

It was waiting for me by the door.

Like it knew I was heading out that minute. The umbrella gently rested on the wall, with waterdrops reflecting their shadows on it from the window.

I stood there hesitantly at first—with one hand already brushing the handle. A strange tremble passed through my chest.

I stepped out barefoot, not bothering with the shoes. The grass was already soaked, clinking to my ankles like cold silk. And the umbrella—black, harmless, familiar—opened with a soft click.

That was when the wind changed.

It didn’t come from any direction. Just, suddenly.

My feet slowly stopped feeling the ground, and my tiny house became smaller and smaller.

But for some odd reason, I didn’t fear.

Just—looked.

Waited what will happen next.

Colors slowly started fainting away, like a rainbow dissapearing in clouds.

Everything turned grey, as I floated through the unknown. Through a place I didn’t recognize anymore.

In the distance, weird creatures floated around.

They weren’t humans. Neither animals.

Their black eyes peaked through the thick clouds, like two holes sucking in my soul. Crumbly bodies and fleshy hands pointed my direction.

They crawled, they twisted.

One of them turned its head—slowly, like it just had noticed me.

My grip tightened on the handle of the umbrella, and I closed my eyes trying to wake up from a bad dream.

The umbrella buzzed in my hands, gently like a warning. Or a goodbye.

And in that moment, I understood.

There is no more going back.

Not for me.

Wherever I was, it won’t be pretty.

I’m never getting out alive.