A lonesome balloon floated down steadily in the dark of night, its bright yellow exterior glowing against the dreary town. The owner of the balloon was high above, watching it from the roof of a tower. A tower that disappeared in the clouds, high above the tops of the other buildings around. She prayed with all her heart someone would find it. Her tears were swept away in the wind, and her sobs were lost in the clouds. She watched the balloon until it was no longer visible before ducking back into the top room of the tower.
"What is that?" Jasper whispered under his breath. He instantly regretted it, and glanced around to make sure no Sarakas were lurking around. Ever since the Sarakas took over his town, the color and life had been sucked from everything. Children, much like himself, were forced to live on their own because their parents had been taken away. The streets no longer smelled of the bakeries that used to line them, the sweet smell of baking bread cinnamon rolls that the bakers would hand out free on summer days. The buildings had been stripped of their bright colors and were painted black or gray. The signs that told you in a vibrant show of oranges, pinks, blues, and greens where you were about to go were gone. No one spoke unless absolutely necessary, and if they did, it was no louder than a whisper. Everyone lived in fear of being taken away by the Sarakas. Kidnapping was not below them. They had taken the princess of his town, Princess Lilly-Lynne, and then took over the town. A yellow balloon sat on the ground, wet with dew, stuck in a bush. Seeing something so bright in such a dark town was shocking.
Jasper glanced around once again before hurriedly sneaking over to the bright yellow balloon and, setting the groceries down, he snatched it up. He looked all around, making sure there was nothing important on it. He saw nothing, but noticed a scrap of paper lying inside. Writing could be seen scrawled on it. Carefully, so as not to make a loud noise by popping it, he bit a tiny whole by the knot. The air began to flow out, and soon he had a piece of latex that fit under his shirt. After picking his bags up again, he set off to his house.
The wind was blowing hard, and it nipped at Jasper’s ears and nose. He tried to pull his coat tighter around himself, but the glass milk jug slipped out from a bag and fell to the floor. The sound of glass hitting pavement rang loud and clear throughout the silent town. His heart skipped a beat. He silently cursed under his breath, and then waited for a Saraka to show up. It wasn’t long before one appeared in the distance. His jet black uniform was hard to spot, but the Sarakas pale skin was hard to miss. This Saraka was wearing a black cap, signifying he was a rookie, probably just created. Still a newborn, Jasper thought, great. The newborns were always cocky. He strolled up to Jasper, clearly irritated he had to go check on some kid. He looked at the groceries in Jasper’s hands, the broken milk bottle on the ground, then at Jasper.
"What’d you do?" He asked. Jasper was still surprised, even after all this time, that a robot could act so much like a human. He avoided his cold stare and explained that it fell from his bag. The Saraka nodded.
"Clean it up." He spat. Jasper almost protested, but realized that he could be arrested, or worse, and got on his knees and began to pluck up the glass. The shards of glass were jagged and sharp, and Jasper’s hands were bleeding badly by the time he was done. The Saraka pursed his lips. Worried, he looked around, wondering if he missed a piece. He saw nothing.
"What’s that?" he demanded. Jasper hesitated.
"Glass," he replied. The guard spit on his shoe, a slimy black glob of oil.
"Don’t you get smart with me, that." He motioned to his shirt.
"Oh," Jasper said, pulling the balloon out from under his shirt. "This." He handed it over to the Saraka, seeing no possible way he could get the letter out without him noticing. The Saraka squinted up his eyes.
"Why on earth would you walk around carrying a deflated balloon under your shirt?" Jasper shrugged. Jasper saw it first, the corner of the paper. And right as the Saraka was handing the balloon back, he saw it too.
"Ah," he said, "So there’s more to this balloon then meets the eye." He pulled out the letter... And fell to the ground. Jasper gasped. There was a long arrow sticking out from his back. Thoroughly confused, Jasper took a step forward to get a closer look. Thick black blood was beginning to pool around the Saraka now, and it was all Jasper could do to not get burned by the sparks dancing from its back. As he got closer, he noticed a small rolled up piece of paper tied to the arrow. Carefully, Jasper unrolled it.
Couldn’t help but notice your sticky situation, so I decided to help.
Well, Jasper thought, that’s no help at all. The writing was barely legible. It looked like whoever wrote it was in a hurry. He decided not to ponder on how it happened, and to just consider himself lucky. Carefully, he pried the letter out of the Sarakas cold, dead hand. He shuttered when his fingers brushed against the Saraka’s. Finally, Jasper ran home, barely remembering the groceries.
Jasper was trebling all over by the time he reached his front door. He fumbled with his key then burst in his drab little house. Gloomy paintings of houses and trees hung on the wall. There were only two couches in the corner, a table to eat at, a stove and a sink. Upstairs, he had a bed and a dresser. The walls were painted grey like every other surface in his house. He set the groceries on his table and turned his attention to the letter. He had gone through a lot to bring it home, and he couldn’t wait to read it. Slowly he opened the letter and read.
