The Life of an Idea

A writing assinment from class. I believe the assignment was to write a metaphorical peice.

I wait for a time when I can take flight and be free. It’s not easy sitting in this bag with my brothers. We all long for the same chance to escape, but for some it seems like it will never come. After an eternity of laying here it was finally my turn. A hand reached in the bag and began filling me up. I could feel my rubber sides inflating; it was not long before I was as full as could be. The hand then tied me up with a string and passed me to another set of hands. I reached for the sky desperate for a chance to escape, but it never came. Occasionally the hand would lose its grip on me, but it was never long before I was snatched out of the air. But I did not lose heart; still I reached for the sky hoping one day I would be free.

 

Finally the day came and the hand released me, I was too quick to be brought back down. I was free to have a place of my own in the world. The higher I rose the more I loved my new freedom.  I was being pushed around by the wind, and being carried to a place that was better than I could possibly imagine.

It was not long before I reached my first snag. A bird flew right at me trying to pop me, but I dodged. Next it was an antenna atop a tall building, but the wind blew me away. The further up I got the more perilous the journey became, and suddenly I realized that I had no idea where I was going, or where I wanted to go. The wind was relentless, however, in its pushing me forwards, wherever I was heading, I was going there quickly. Suddenly I was caught on something. I couldn’t see what, but the wind could no longer blow me forward, and I could no longer float up. I was stuck. I tried and tried to get out, but there was nothing I could do, the wind pushed and pushed, but still I was going nowhere. I could see other balloons floating ahead of me, and I desperately wanted to join them, but I could not move.

 

After a while it seemed like I had been all but forgotten, The wind stopped blowing on me, and was focusing on the other balloons, who would stare at me with pity, but could do nothing to help me. Until finally when I thought there was no help left an unknown force set me free, and I was able to rise again. I could see some of the other balloons stuck in their prisons, and like them I could do nothing but stare on in pity as I continued my float up. Occasionally I would float past one of my brothers from the bag, who were caught themselves. I hoped one day they too would be free, but for now I could do nothing but follow the current taking me up; until finally I got to what I knew to be the destination. I was at first amazed by the amount of balloons floating around here. The more I looked the more intimidated I became.

 

 

Many of the balloons seemed brighter than me, and bigger. There were some I recognized as my brothers, but most were unfamiliar to me. On my journey I had been so proud of myself, so ready to be out in the world, but now I was unsure. With so many others out there brighter, bigger, and better, what was there that set me apart. I was terrified of this new world. Terrified to be bumped around, and terrified to be popped and brought back down to the ground. I did not know how to survive in this world but I knew I had to try, I had come this far, perhaps there was a chance for me after all. Once again I find myself waiting to be scooped up and brought in to the world.

Author's Note

I had completely forgotten about this, but I found it looking through a bunch of my old writing

Reviews

[MandaBear]

This was really cool

[Erinne S.]

This was really cool. I have never read a story where an inanimate object is the story-teller. I find that really unique and intriguing. It puts a new spin on writing for me.

Great job with this!

[The Perfectionist]

Well this is suitably weird. I can't find anything wrong with it technically, at least not on the first pass. One thing that did stick out for me though was that if the balloon could see its fellows caught in the same manner that it had been, it surely must be able to see HOW they were caught. That should be a point of description.

Ha, caught one. You capitalized balloons at the end there.