The Balloon

         I watch as the large shiny red figure in the shape of a deformed heart floats down the stairs.
           I grit my teeth and glare down at it, the innocent bystander floating merrily along.
           I hate that balloon.
           I swivel in my chair and resume completing my English assignment. My fingers tap away heartily on the keys, pausing every so often when I lose my place and I have to backtrack.
           Finally! I think in satisfaction as I begin to type the first sentence to my concluding paragraph.
           "Blah blah blah..." I murmur aloud as I type. I pause, mid-sentence, my voice trailing off and the consistant clicking coming to a standstill.
           Slowly, my eyes wander toward the stairs - the last place I had seen the balloon gliding along.
           It isn't there.
           Fearfully, I grab onto the desk, my knuckles white, eyes wild. Where it is? WHERE IS IT?
           I feel something smooth and slippery brush against my leg. I shriek and bring my legs up quickly, tucking them in close to my body.
           I look down, and there is it: that damn balloon! It had snuck up on me while I was working. Damn that thing, damn it!
           "Bitsy!" I call out, shifting uncomfortably, one foot beneath my butt beginning to go numb.
           There is no reply.
           "Bitsy!" I call out again, the seed of panic planting itself in my larynx, causing my voice to crack a little.
           A small blonde head pokes around the corner near the foot of the stairs.
           "What?" Bitsy asks, her large blue eyes trained on my ashen face.
           I smile at her, relieved. "Wanna stay down here and keep me company?" I ask, stealing a quick glace at the balloon hovering near my chair and then returning my gaze to my sister.
           Bitsy's brow crinkles. "I guess so," she says, hopping down the rest of the stairs and skipping over to where I am seated.
           She grabs the balloon. I cringe.
           Bitsy glances at me. "What?" she asks, throwing the balloon up and watching it as it drifts back to the ground.
           "That balloon freaks me out," I murmur, turning my attention back to the monitor.
           Bitsy raises her little eyebrows at me. "You're silly, Amaya," she says, picking the balloon up again and squeezing it.
           Pop pop pop, I chant silently as I watch her from the corner of my eye.
           No such luck.
           Bitsy lets go of the balloon, giving up. I keep my eyes on that freaky thing as it takes its' sweet time returning to the floor, where it bobs up and down twice before becoming still, floating about an inch off the carpet.
           I shudder and turn back to the monitor, feeling safer now that I'm not alone.
           "Amaya, don't look until I say," Bitsy calls from somewhere across the basement.
           "Sure," I say absently, running spellcheck on my document.
           A slight breeze ruffles my hair. Horror fills me as I feel something glide across my earlobe.
           "Look," Bitsy calls out.
           I stare straight ahead, unmoving. She didn't. Oh no, she had NOT!
           Slowly... slowly... I turn.
           My nose presses against the smooth surface, crinkling it. It presses in on me, covering my mouth, cutting off my respiration.
           I scream and bat at the balloon, throwing it off me, throwing it away, throwing it anywhere but near me.
           Bitsy giggles.
           I look down at her. I can feel my heart as it pounds in my chest. I am still alive. The balloon hasn't gotten me.
           Yet.



         "Are you sure you'll be OK?"
           "Yeah, fine," I mumble, standing on tippy-toe to see the top shelf of the cupboard.
           "We won't be gone all night, you know," Mom says to me as she helps Bitsy into her coat.
           I nod. "I know," I say, grabbing the Scooby-Doo fruitsnacks box and taking out two packages.
           "Are you sure you'll be alright?" Mom asks as she opens the door to leave. Bitsy steps out and skips to the car.
           "Please, Mom," I say through a mouthful of Scooby-Doo characters, "just go."
           Mom eyes me warily for a moment before relenting. "Be back as soon as we can," she says.
           I watch from the window as the Ford Explorer backs out of the driveway and disappears down the street.
           I toss the rest of my fruitsnacks into the garbage. Light rain patters on the roof as I open a drawer and withdraw a freshly sharpened butcher's knife.
           It is the balloon's turn to be afraid.
           I giggle.
           A bolt of lightning flashes across the sky and I am plunged into darkness.
           I gulp. No matter, I think, aiming myself toward the basement stairs. I don't need light to pop a balloon.
           I tip-toe down the stairs, careful to be as silent as possible. I don't want it to know I am coming.
           I reach the foot of the stairs and look around, allowing my eyes to adjust to the complete darkness.
           Light glints off a floating object a couple feet away from me. I train my eyes on that spot until the outline of the object becomes fairly visible.
           There it is. It looks so warm and inviting.
           What a disguise, I think, crouching down. If I was going to take this thing by surprise, I needed to be stealthy.
           It hovers above the ground, inches in front of me. I need to act quickly. There is no time to waste.
           I choose my instant to act and leap at it. I grab it and bring it down with me as I go tumbling to the floor.
           I feel it struggle against me. It knows what I've come for.
           I pin it beneath me, feeling satisfied as it tries, only weakly now, to escape.
           I lie on it. I do not know for how long. Five minutes, five hours... it all seems to be the same.
           It has ceased to fight me. Slowly, I lift myself off of it. I keep it held tightly in my hands. I do not want it to get away.
           With the greatest care, I slide my body downward, keeping a firm hold on the now silent terror.
           I sit back on my heels and glare down at it. It should not be here.
           I slowly raise my arms above my head and hold the large knife tightly in both hands. My hands begin to quiver. I feel the knife rattle precariously. I quickly steady myself and take a deep breath. I bring my arms down swiftly, the knife slicing through the air.
           A shudder runs from the tip of the knife to the handle, through the handle to my hands, from my hands up my arms, across my arms to my shoulders, then from my shoulders shooting down my spine, where the shudder remains as an intense tingle for a couple moments before dissipating.
           I stare down in shock. The knife has met solid ground. There is no balloon.
           My breathing becomes heavy and labored. I feel as if I am suffocating. I drop the knife and scramble back. I come up against a wall and stop. I bring my legs up to my chest and hug them firmly, making myself a human ball.
           The balloon has escaped. It will now come after me.
           I hear a slight rustle in the distance. I stiffen. I raise my head, my mouth an "O" of horror. The balloon bounces happily before me.
           I scream and swat at it. I feel pressure on my wrist as I am lifted. I am raised only a couple of inches off the floor and am then thrown with the likes of a force I have never seen.
           I land hard on the concrete floor. I hear a loud CRACK! and feel burning pain shoot up and down my left arm. I cry out.
           I see the balloon as it merrily bounces along, closing the distance between us swiftly. I begin to panic. What to do???
           I roll, over and over again, away from the approaching horror. I ignore the pain in my arm. There is no time for that.
           A muffled "oomph!" escapes me as I come in hard contact with a solid wall. I open my eyes and almost gasp in pleasure. A rail! I am at the bottom of the stairs!
           I reach with my good arm and grab hold. Pulling forth strength I didn't know I possessed, I pull myself upright. I do not glance back to see where the balloon is gliding. I rush up the stairs and out of sight.
           Lightning flashes as I enter the kitchen, wild-eyed and afraid. I must hide. Where can I hide?!
           I hear the balloon bump against the basement steps. It begins to ascend.
           I run out of the kitchen and down a dark hallway. I must get away, get away!
           I burst through the door to the bathroom and huddle behind the door. I put my head down and hold it between my hands, red hot pain pricking my arm as I do so. The balloon is coming... it won't let me get away... I begin to rock back and forth, back and forth, whimpering... I must be QUIET... the balloon will hear... it has ears, you know... I hear it approach... oh my God, it's coming... I hear the feather-light footsteps... I laugh insanely at the thought that it has feet... but it DOES have feet, I hear them... and it has teeth... in a gigantic mouth, large razor sharp teeth... it will eat me... gobble me straight down to the bone... I hear it, right outside the door now... it's coming, it's going to kill me, it wants to hurt me, it's coming, it's coming, it's co..............


The End