Story about a balloon

We were given an assignment in a workshop to write a short story about a balloon. 

Here are the requirements:
• The story can be a biography, sci-fi, horror, romance, comedy, or crime story but not shorter than 400 words.
• Re-write the story in the form of a poem. Any length.
• Tell the same story, via the first-person perspective of a wise, old, all-knowing guru/zen master   

Here you go...


Am I Not?

“Hi Pinky, where do you come from?” asks the yellow guy.
“I am from the factory down town. As if you are not.”
“Ya, but you look funny and you don’t look as pretty as us. You are a freak, hahhahah....”


I don’t like him. This annoying yellow guy has really been pissing me off. He loves to criticise me and he talks too much. He always says that he is the most outstanding guy among us. I feel really uncomfortable staying in the same pack with him.


“Look! There are people coming in!” he exclaims, as usual.
A girl who is about 5, comes into the shop with her father.
“Go get something you like for your party.” says the father.
The girl happily picks up some ribbons and flowers on the shelf. When she walks pass us, I hear the yellow guy mumbling, “Come get me. I am all that you want and I am the most outstanding colour here... come get me...”
He does this all the time whenever someone passes by. This time, he means business, with his eyes closed, he murmurs something, as though he is sending some kind of telepathic message to the girl. To my surprise, the girl stops and picks us up. She hugs us close to her chest and goes straight to the cashier.
“ You are such a lucky freak to stay in the same pack with me,” boasts the yellow guy. So now, are you ready for the adventure outside?”


This is my second car ride. The first one was a big truck ride where I had to share my seat with hundreds of colourful others . Now, I am seated here comfortably with my new friends- Ribbons and Flowers. But they don’t seem friendly. Well, I’m not really bothered because I know I am going home for the girl’s birthday party.


The smell of freshly baked cakes & cookies fills the air in the neighbourhood. Before the car can stop, there are people cheering and welcoming us. The house is very well decorated, the atmosphere of the party will be perfect with a little touch of the ribbons, flowers and of course a pink balloon.


Full of excitement, I wait to be blown up and dressed up, just like the rest of them- blue, red, purple, green, white and yellow. Even the yellow is now all done up with ribbons. They all look extremely stunning. I am so envious of them. What is the matter with them? Why don’t they like pink? I ask myself.
“You are just plain ugly.” The yellow guy says sarcastically as if he heard me.


A boy walks pass me, kicks me, steps on me and finally picks me up.
He blows me up, looks at me and says, “Eww! What an ugly balloon you are!”
Without second thoughts, he tosses me away. I bounce off the fence and get blown by the wind. I try to fly as high as possible but I just can’t. I fall down and roll on the ground. A man comes by, gives me a squeeze and kicks me across the road. I feel a bit nauseous but I want to fly away as fast as I can. I get taken by the wind from one house to another. I fall to the ground and get lifted up again by the wind. I bounce up and down aimless. And though I feel exhausted, I am happy and free.


A strong gust of wind takes me to a whole new place. Suddenly, a shadow looms across me. As I look up, a fierce creature with a wide mouth and sharp teeth is barking at me. I get so nervous that I start to roll myself away from the creature. I roll so fast until I realise that I am rather good at rolling. I roll and roll until I bump into someone. A man lifts me up from the ground and gives me a funny look, “ This must be some kind of a joke. Who blew you up into a balloon?”
Before I know it, he releases the air from my body. I feel somewhat relieved but when I look at my body shape, I just can’t be happy anymore. It’s saggy and ugly.


I see people walking on the street. I hear a man shouting, “Stop AIDS, keep the promise, stop AIDS, keep the promise...” as he gives away a small pack of something. I feel terrified. The man looks at me and says, “You definitely can’t be used anymore.” He throws me into a box next to the sample rack. When I open my eyes to look around, I see a whole lot of others who look just like me. Not balloons but something else.
One of them asks, “Hi, Pinky, are you here because of some defect like us?”
Feeling worn and tired, I muster enough strength to say to them, “No, they just don’t like pink!”~~end

Where do I belong?

I only come to this world once

But respect I have not gained

As time passes by in silence

I know my efforts should not be in vain

Now it's too late to show my presence

How many are concerned and feel my pain?

Eternity
There are two kinds of talents
man-made talent and God-given talent
With man-made talent you have to work very hard
What cannot be cured must be endured
If it doesn’t reward you in either ways
have faith in yourself that
your body is temporary
your soul is eternity