It was always hard being a balloon. At first, I had the impression that we, the balloons, were the only existing thing in this world. I wish. When I was taken to the shop, though, odd fleshy little hands poked and prodded at me. Finally I was taken. A little human (girl, I presume?) and a bigger version of her (possibly the mother) took me to her home. When I got there in her stuffy car, the mother immediately used a friendly looking piece of tape to stick me on a wall. We had a little chat. He told me that when he was cut, he sort of rebirthed, as he was all one roll of tape. He was nice enough, but the door, carpet and window were all giving me hostile looks. Just then, some guests came. And let me tell you, it was TORTURE! They were all sticky and dirty and smelly. Also, how violent could they be?? I saw them physically abusing a pinata with sticks and felt horrified. Finally, the children left. Everybody was cleaning up as I drifted off to float, but the little girl came towards me with a sharp object. AHHH! She pressed hard into my skin and I writhed in agony, when suddenly – POP! A fateful noise for a balloon…
The End…
Hi! Did you like that short story? Its one of my favourite ones. How was your week? Mine was terrific! I just went for a long bike ride around the Olympic stadium!
So, thanks so much for reading!
xx Zoya xx
🙂