Flight (standard:Psychological fiction, 1117 words)
Author: Ashok Gurumurthy	Added: Feb 06 2005	Views/Reads: 3687/2363	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A child gets a balloon and sees a curious thing happen.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Once the few turbulent minutes following the escape had passed, it
steadily climbed the atmospheric ladder. Soon there were no winds that 
forced it into submission, so that its motion was free and wanton. 

For aeons, as it were, it waded through the mysteries of the sky,
indulging every desire; there was no leash and no monster wind. First 
it entered the clouds to feel the moisture and rode on their backs for 
a while before rising further. Then it could see the same clouds lain 
mid-air, offering to cushion it if it should fall. Often it saw 
aircraft from close by and felt sure each time that its passengers were 
envious of its freedom. 

Routine meant nothing. It covered large distances, and there were no
returns; it had no home to return to. It was a tramp ruling the sky, 
being accountable to no-one and quite forgotten by everyone. True, 
aircraft passengers smiled at it sometimes, out of sheer surprise, but 
that was rare. 

The balloon had expanded owing to the drop in pressure outside and its
shape (the beautiful sphere) had, as a result, got distorted a little; 
it looked like a malformed egg, and ugly. Patches of loose rubber had 
appeared. 

Not very long afterwards, the knot at its mouth was loosening, and
helium was leaking out slowly. 

With the leaking of air, descent was imminent. And so the mighty balloon
was now coming back to earth, leaner and sorry. It had tasted blows, it 
had tasted release, it had tasted freedom. It would learn that the 
price for freedom had yet to be paid. 

The fall was swift; there was no time for leisurely reflection. Also it
fell right through the clouds, swaying greatly under the influence of 
the same winds, which seemed especially harsh. The knot was loosening 
continuously, quickening the thinning. It soon grew small enough to 
fall so fast as to be virtually unaffected by the wind. It would not be 
taken prisoner again. It would defy the forces. 

The begging with the wind, the trying to sneak out of the cord's reach,
the crashing against the bar and the lintel are all past, as is all 
excoriation. Only the ultimate defiance, leaving no spirit for the 
forces to break, remains. Which obviously I shall not be able to record 
here.


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