Writer's Month 2022, Day 31: "Rainbow"
Original fiction/Fantasy based on Slavic mythology Status/Word count: Could be complete on its own, but I want to add more later. 311 words. Summary/Author's notes: Based on the legend of the planetik/chmurnik/a bunch of other names for Slavic weather spirits.
"I bet I can run all the way to the rainbow and back," Dalibor said, pointing off into the distance.
His big sister, Oliga, made a face. "A rainbow isn't something you can reach, stupid. It disappears if you run toward it."
"I bet I can touch it."
"Can not."
"Can so!"
"Then try it," she said dismissively.
"Alright!" he said, and ran off.
Dalibor ran, and sure enough, the rainbow only seemed to become sharper as he got closer. He crested a small hill, slowing to a trot and looking up at it in wonder. It rose so high overhead that he couldn't even it from up close, the sunlight burning his eyes; its end hovered over the ground about twenty feet away. Up close, its colors were brighter than he could have imagined, and it glittered as if made of thousands and thousands of stars. It was hazy at the edges.
He got closer, and still it didn't disappear. He grinned to himself. And then, without even really thinking, he reached out to touch it, wondering it if would be solid or if it was just beautifully colored mist. Maybe he could even grab a handful of rainbow to shove in Oliga's face!
It was solid. And at his touch, the colored threads lashed out and wrapped around his wrist.
"Hey!"
He pulled back, grimacing in pain—the threads of rainbow tightened, and its sparkling bits burned and bit into his skin. It snaked its way up his arm and pulled—Dalibor screamed as his feet were wretched from the earth, and suddenly he had the strangest feeling, like a great weight was melting off him—he became impossibly light, rising into the air with no more effort than a gust of wind.
He screamed again, and was yanked up into the sky, his human body dissolving behind him.
