Little Yellow Dog Stories : It's Raining Cats and Dogs (1/1)
Martha (and cat)
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All things Copyrighted belong to those companies/people/galactic empires
that own them. The plot, extranious characters and all else belongs to
me, and is under my copyright.
Martha (and cat)
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<<Our apologies to the creators/owners of those characters used.>>
"It's Raining Cats and Dogs..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Martha McMahon, Beth Reynolds, and Kathleen Hallahan.
The sunlight glinting off the sword caught Ororo's attention as she
passed the antique shop. She paused, then entered the store quietly. The
sword was not an antique as she had expected; it was too fresh, and felt
too new. She frowned a little, but looked it over.
The Aettartangi was well made, with a damascus blade at least 450
layers thick. The metal looked like water rippling in a shallow stream, and
Storm lost herself for a moment in the patterns. But it was too well made,
and much too inexpensive. She sighed in disappointment, and then turned
away from the display.
"Is there a problem?" The owner moved over from behind a taller
display, where he had been showing axes to another customer.
Storm shook her head slightly. "Just disappointed. I had hoped the
Aettartangi was real." She waved a hand at it in explanation.
"Real?" The owner raised an eyebrow. "I would hope it was real; I'm
not in the habit of selling fake swords," he smiled, "but it's no more
antique than the cash register, I'm afraid."
Storm nodded absently, and smiled slightly. "It's well made," she
offered as an apology, "but I was hoping for..." she shrugged.
"I have one or two older swords, but nothing in quite as good
condition." He smiled faintly. "Their owners parted with them under less
pleasant circumstances." He motioned to a smaller display case. "Would
you like to see?"
She moved over to the display case, and her eyes scanned the
half-dozen swords inside. All bore the marks of several battles, and one
was even broken in half. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the blackened
marks that spidered up more than one of the blades.
"I would have thought most swordsmen knew lightning and swordplay
rarely mix well," she commented, as she studied one of the less worn
rapiers. She noted the owner's startled look out of the corner of her eye.
"They were not the smartest of men," he answered, looking at her
curiously, "but how did you know?"
She pointed to the faint black traceries. "This was a truly unlucky
group of men," she noted, then looked over at the owner. "I wonder..."
"Perhaps I'm simply lucky," he offered with a sad smile. "Would you
like to see anything else?"
Storm shook her head, and moved to leave, then paused. "Do you
always come to work armed?" she asked quietly.
The owner looked at her quizzically. "Armed?"
Storm pointed to the sword, hidden under the owner's jacket.
"Somehow I do not think that that is merely a letter opener."
The owner blushed faintly, and looked back toward the other
customers, who, thankfully, were oblivious to the conversation. "No, I
don't suppose it is."
"Then let us hope you know better than to play in the rain," she offered
as she left. "Your friends didn't seem to be as lucky."
The owner watched her walk down the street for a moment, then shook
his head and moved back to the other customers.
A small yellow dog paused by the shop window and looked in
hopefully. It whined once, then yarped and trotted off down the street. The
clouds moved in behind it. A faint wind began to sweep the sidewalks
clean of leaves.
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