childhood

Whose bubble was it?

Once upon a time she lived in a bubble.  Not a warm, fuzzy bubble like a Mayberry town. Once upon a time she lived in a dark, suffocating bubble that seemed like it would burst at any point. The temperature ran hot inside that bubble leaving one’s skin feeling like crispy bacon slices.

Shootings, beating, chopped up bodies in the recycling bin. No, her once upon a time was not a scene from Fargo but was her stark reality.  Unsurprisingly, no prince charming swept her off her tired, broken feet. No rich lonely good-hearted man climbed up a fire escape to save her from a life on the streets.

Once upon a time, she let her hair down like Rapunzel and she saved herself. She used her own hair to propel her out of her burning, claustrophobic bubble. She ran and ran till she was sure the bubble’s outer edges couldn’t touch her.  She then cut off her hair keeping one lock that she kept in her pocket. She would always remember where she had been.
Now upon the present time, the sun was shining brightly as she sat on the warm grass. The air smelled green and fresh and was meant to be breathed in.  Yet, there were still bubbles around her. Everyone is caught in a bubble.

photo fiction #12

She heard the first graders laughing hysterically at an awful knock knock joke. Their’s was a wondrous bubble.  She fingered her pocketed lock of hair. Then she saw this fluffy bubble-like floating object. She dropped the lock of hair, reaching out to touch the bubble. Whose bubble was it and did it need bursting?

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