Bobby's Balloon

"There's a clown under the street. He holds a balloon, points at it and then at me. His smile widens; it does not reach his eyes.

I follow him along the street until the pavement stops and nature begins. He leads me into a sewage tunnel, through a broken grate that once kept curious minds out. The light becomes sparse as we go deeper and deeper into the tunnel, until the clown disappears altogether. The only thing I can still make out is the balloon. I don't understand what colour it is, I just know it contains glowing stars and I would follow it to the ends of the earth.

The balloon moves ahead faster and faster until I can barely make out the faintly glowing specks within. I run, bouncing up and down in the dark. It's only a matter of time before I stumble and fall facedown into the rank liquid on the ground. Sewage. I screw up my nose, my whole face from the disgusting smell. It makes me gag and I want to go home, wishing I was neither here nor not here. I want that balloon. I start to cry. I want to be in my room, play with my toys; but I know in my heart I will never do either again because the desire to have that balloon is stronger. I will follow it to the end of the world.

I finally catch up to that beautiful instrument of childhood happiness. It hovers quite still now over a stream of muck and stench. There's a faint glow, like a softly pulsing light that is contained in the depths of the liquid. The lights come and go like fireflies, and if it wasn't for the occasional moans of sorrow they would look just as peaceful.

The balloon is just barely out of reach. Out of frustration I stamp my feet and cry again. My lip pushed forward and feeling snot and tears mixing on my chin, I scan the area for anything helpful, the light from the stars in the balloon is bright enough that I spy an old turned around umbrella. I wonder how that ended up here but then take it up and lay it upside down on the water and climb aboard. My boat at the ready, the balloon takes its cue and continues on its course of evasion..."

"WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?!" cries the frantic mother with tears in her eyes. "Oh god, what happened to my Bobby?!" She sobs uncontrollably and her husband holds her close to his chest until she disappears from view. He grieves silently, tears rolling down his cheeks but I can tell he is trying to be strong for his wife. I leave them in the room for some privacy.

I think of her with a heavy heart. I can't possibly say what happened next. I can't explain it myself. I know he drowned in that old sewer, but how I'm not sure. We looked through that tunnel and there is not a single deep pool in there. It's all smelly puddles at best, but seeing it through Bobby's eyes was like being in a completely different time and place. Could he have slipped through time and space somehow?

Bobby's umbrella boat failed him after a couple of laboured intakes of foul air and he was immediately dragged under. Dragged under by the ghostly clawed hands of the glowing things in the stream. He tried holding his breath and stared at the murky shape of the underside of his umbrella boat.

He soon gave up his flailing because there were just too many hands, too many fingers. Bodies wrapped themselves around him and more flocked towards him as if megnetised by his life force. There were so many of these glowing beings now that he had to shut his eyes against the brightness of their collected auras. The light was so bright, though, that he could still make out shapes through his pink eyelids.

They were taking him somewhere, to someone. That something was a rather large and ferocious looking set of teeth. Bobby strained his neck to get a full picture, but whatever this thing was it was so big that all he could clearly see where its teeth. And then they smiled at him wolfishly.

He never felt the push that came from behind, sending him through those chompers, all he saw was the light from within. He went to it and it showed him his path; his mission. A shiny red bicycle for his help in clearing out and purifying the underworld's sewers.

Some might see it as a rotten deal, but it wasn't just any old shiny red bicycle. It was a brand new Turbo Red Montezuma ZX complete with mudguards, chrome detailing, a foghorn instead of the standard Bell, and a miniature floodlight. It was perfect for the job, but, most importantly, it was exactly like the magazine clipping he'd sent to Santa with his letter!

He would do it, he decided. For this bicycle he would do anything.