Geo-Writing's prompts were based on your location. My prompt (in Johannesburg, South Africa) was 'a photo of a red balloon on Facebook'. You can read all the stories over here.
Red Balloon
My parents told me that I was a soul they found floating above a stretch of grass next to the highway on their way to Johannesburg. My mom said I looked like a red balloon, and that she caught me before I could snag on a wiry tree or float down into the prickly winter-brown grass.
I never quite understood how I went from a balloon-shaped soul to human, but I knew I was different. In time the balloon became a silly bedtime story to grow out of. I acted like balloons didn't scare me. I carried balloons around because other children did. Balloons would slip from their fingers and disappear into the sky, but I could never let one go.
When I turned thirteen my parents told me that I was given up by my biological parents. Parents who, like so many others, had left the country. As if leaving me wasn't enough. As if I wasn't enough reason to stay.
It took a lot of time to find her name. On Facebook was a story of her new coffee table book set in Brighton - a far-away world of strangers. Snapshots of her, a red balloon and two toddlers. A photo of a lone red balloon above Brighton.
I choked as my soul spilled onto the floor with my tears. Mom caught me and snapped the laptop shut.
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