Purpose Pt.2

As our red balloon sputtered and spattered, it took aim at the ground.  Of course it had no control of its direction, but at that moment fate had decided to lend a hand.  An invisible arm pushed the balloon towards the girl (who was crying quite profusely) straight into her hands.

What a suprise this came to her, for in those moments she believed all had been lost.  A moment of stunned silence occurred (except for the balloons loud hissing), but not for long.  The girl knew she must act now!

With incredible swiftness she pinched her fingers over the balloons hole, stopping the incedible flow of air.  It whistled at first, but she clamped harder.

It whistled again, and she clamped even harder.  Her little fingers were almost as red as the balloon by the time she had successfully closed the gap.

What remained in her hands was only half the size it had once been.  But there was still hope.  She held the balloon close to herself, like a mother would a child, and began to run again.

But this time her speed came not from joy, but from desperation.  Her home was quite far, if she was to save her little friend she had to traverse the great distance quickly, for her tiny little fingers could not hold the balloon shut forever.

The balloon was scared as well, you see, just moments ago it had witnessed life in all its glory.  The balloon had found purpose, to reign high in the sky!  But what now?  Could it even float?  The balloon did not want to know now, it was content with hiding in the girls arms, waiting for something to save its failing body.

Little hisses of air escaped it as the girl jumped little rivers in the park, ducked under low tree branches, and slid over loose dirt.  At one point she ran through the legs of a rather tall person with a grand mustache.

“Oh my!” he exclaimed, feeling a breeze of speed rush under under him.  When he looked to see what happened, he noticed she was more than thirty yards away!

Then fifty!

Then seventy!

Then one hundred!

She was very fast when she needed to be, and right now she needed to be.

A group of boys shooting marbles appeared in her route.  Normally she would have gone around.  Normally she might have joined them.  Normally she would have then won to.

Today was different.

A few steps before the circle she lowered her body, then launched into the air.

One could compare her to a rainbow as she flew over the boys and there marbles.  She remained in the air for hour long seconds then landed on the other side.

Unfortunately she caused one boy to miss his shot.  Although he would marry her one day, right now he took a marble and threw it.  He completely missed.

She crossed a large stone bridge with an incredible arc, then turned right into extremely woodsy woods.  Left ad right she darted to avoid the trees.  There were so many!  This was not a path for the meek!

Up ahead she could make out the fence to her yard, tall and white.  With joy she yelped, and sped up a little more.  Things blured around but she didnt care, faster and faster until


She hit a tree.

She fell back violently and landed on the ground, leafs kicked up around her.  Eyes to the sky, the world blured again, but not with speed this time.  It was much different.  It blurred with red.

With one hand she continued to squeeze the balloon shut (It was now a quarter of its size).  With the other she felt her head, a warm liquid covered her finger.  She was bleeding.

Now, most little girls might cry at this moment.  I know most grown men would.  But not this one!  She was on a mission, and she was not to be stopped!

Though the world was woozy, she stood up.  She might have fell again, but a tree behind her kept her standing when she stumbled backwards.

10 feet away was her fence.

One foot infront of the other it became 9 feet,

Then 8…7….6

She stumbled a little again.


A drop of blood hit the ground


The door in the fence was swung open and in entered a little girl.  Beaten. Bruised.  Holding a little red balloon.  She had arrived.  In the sandbox sat her brother, with a green bucket covering his head, down to his shoulders.

He was a little younger then her, but had the head the size of an adult.  Unfortunately this meant that buckets didn’t fit very well, and for five minutes he had been pulling at it with all his might.  Little by little it inched up, pulling his nose up until her looked like a piglet.

Finally, with one last pull.


He slung it into the air.

Then he looked at his sister, blankly, who was dripping with blood.


Lets pick this story up tomorrow shall we,

Jacob Lane

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