Raspberries fell fiercely from the darkened clouds above, like perspired bullets from a devil’s anxious brow. With rosy-colored welts now given a vigorous birth on the summer-soaked flesh, as dozens of vacationing beach dwellers began to scream absolute murder, with all but one giving flight to any form of shelter, most of which in their cars, while some had hid out in the local Tiki-Tempora & Saki shop off shore.

The who that hadn’t run, however, was most likely a lunatic. A young girl, who went luxuriously under the name of Rose, if not, somehow ironically, to resemble all those welts that everyone else now was so vigorously trying to nurse back to health.

Rose had come to this beach for some unspecified reason, being that she hadn’t shown dressed at all for the occasion; while most came with bathing suits and towels, it was Rose who was oddly sitting, with her bare feet in the water, and a pair of sweat pulled up to her knees, with a large’n’baggy, ‘n’horrible frayed sweater.

Sure, it was overcast, but it was one of those days that they’d all refer to as part of an Indian summer. With temperatures muggy, and uncomfortable, languishing in the mid-to-high 90s. While everyone else seemed determined to cool themselves in the ocean, it was this odd little nut alone who seemed content, dressed like an Eskimo in her lounge-ware, with her toes only, cooling-off in the water.

It was then, when the heavens had opened, and began to pelt all below with hardened berries, still frozen from the upper atmosphere, when our lovely little oddball Rose had leapt to her feet, and thus stripped off all her clothes. Just two pieces to be exact, but enough to draw the attention of all who remained safely within range, at their chosen shelter. Then, with a smile that wrapped around so tight, she could have hung herself from the rafters, had there been any rafters to be hung from, the girl began to dance. All the while, of course, these darn Raspberries had continued to Plumet, giving this girl all sorts of bruises, bloodied nicks along the head, arms and torso, or perhaps it was all just juice.

Nobody had spent too much time considering the differences.

But this girl, as single-minded as she was, kept firm as could be, along with her smile, which had only strengthened, while she danced for what felt like decades.

Until came, what most would come to refer to as the great silence; the falling raspberries had stopped, or had passed farther East, killing all sound, as everyone sucked in and gasped in disbelief.

Rose had cut her dance, just moment short of its finale, allowed her wrap-around smile to settle into a simple little grin. Then, in addressing all that still watch with tremendous astonishment, she turned, then belted out to her audience, “To be continued; perhaps next we’ll get lucky, and will have melons instead.”