Bubble Me

Slipping, squeaking, like a small mouse I run, no gravity to pull me down. The sides give under my hands and feet, the air perfectly balanced inside, so unlike me. The shining glare of the sun on its glassy rubberlike walls burns my eyes. I shout to them below me, they only stare, eyes wide, lips moving silently, like we're all stuck in an old fashioned movie without sound. I groan as my foot slips out from under me again and I fall against the squishy wetness of my bubble. I try to stand, slimed once again, but eventually give up and sit cross legged staring at them getting smaller underneath me. I cry out when suddenly I look up and out of nowhere a humongous tack spears my floating orb. POP! I wake up.
 

Zorro

VT

17 years old

More by Zorro

  • thoughts

    Winter is coming.

    Silently with chapped lips and 

    breath in the cool air.

    But, I think I'll finish this 

    half-baked thought later 

    when winter has come and gone.

  • Ghost

    Once a sweet violet syrup of passion,
    now the bitter acid of indifference.

    Once a giddiness like rays of sun on your lips in the spring,
    now a cold careless ghost of the past.

    I indulged in the newness,
  • Floating

    My head is in the sky with those puffy white clouds of giddiness and
    A foggy understanding of what is to come is all that inhabits my brain.
    My skin is warmed by hot star energy and the smile pulling at the corners of my lips