365 Day Photo Project – Day 34 :: Writing Challenge

Wandering Balloon

You know me and the balloons, they are tons of fun to take pictures of.  I love this shot because the balloon was floating in the air and when I snapped this photo, the balloon was perfectly placed in the lines of the cables overhead.  So here’s a fun challenge for anyone who wants to participate, especially since there are some amazing writers/poets out there, try to come up with a cool poem or short story about this balloon and I’ll post my favorite on my blog.  You can post the story/poem on your blog and ping back to this one or send it to me in a comment.  I’ll announce my favorite in a few days.


3 thoughts on “365 Day Photo Project – Day 34 :: Writing Challenge

  1. I don’t even really know what I’ve written here? I seem to have taken to dystopian outlooks lately. I blame George Orwell, I’ve just finished reading ‘1984’. Anyway, this is my (not all that good/written on my lunch break) submission:

    Yellow wasn’t a colour that anyone saw much of these days. The sun was long since hidden behind a perpetual cloud of smog and the whole world seemed to have taken on the drabbest colour palette it could manage in the last few years.

    Rose hadn’t even been entirely sure what the balloon was at first, but then a memory of her childhood worked its way to the surface of her mind. Her father had brought her one home on her fifth birthday, and she had thought it the most wonderful present she could have received. She had treasured it for the few days the air had remained in it, and even after, had kept it in the box reserved for her most precious possessions.

    She had somehow lost that box during her university days. She idly wondered what might have become of it as she watched the yellow balloon float across the road, buffeted by the breeze, and then wondered where this balloon had come from. Perhaps a little girl like she had been had released it into the air. It was highly likely it hadn’t even been purposeful; balloons had a nasty habit of floating away from you if you weren’t careful.

    She watched a bit more as the balloon drifted towards the beam at the top of a telegraph pole and then sensing the inevitable, closed her eyes. She jumped at the sound of the bang, and then opened her eyes sadly. That spot of colour had been such a welcome change. Now it was back to the drib, the drab, the boring.

    Oh, well. She was very used to it, now.

    • Thanks for the story. Seems like you were the only interested writer. I like the story, except I’m sad about the outcome…the drib drab and boring, but that’s because I’m very used to it now :). Thanks for the submission and I will post something about it in a few days if I don’t get any other submissions.

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