Stories Spun by Scenes

Living the Bubble Life

Could you imagine living in something so fragile, breakable, and unstable? Something that could dissolve within seconds, something that may be entirely gone within minutes? An entire world inside of air trapped in a rainbow film. Imagine living within a planet of rainbows, or dreams, of soap, of water, of delicate images that will fade; a world that will pop; a world inside of a literal bubble.

That was where I lived.

I lived inside of something that never stops leaving, something that will never be my full home. I get a chance to live in stability for mere seconds, before – pop! - I’m transported. See, I don’t die every time my world inside a bubble pops, I’m not sure if I’ll even ever die. When one bubble pops, I am transported into somewhere new, every single time.

Half of me loves it, everything about it. I mean, it’s pretty exciting to experience all these different worlds, and travel within seconds, never stopping. I get to see a lot of things, but it’s always fleeting, and that’s the downfall.

Every bubble has a different anatomy, on the inside anyways, depending on where it is. Inside bubbles is not merely soap and air, but magic places. It’s a true world, of built streets and houses, stores, and clouds, stars that shine, flowers that bloom, winds that blow. There’s other people inside, too, just they don’t seem solid, I think. They’re blurred, like you’re viewing them from a dense fog, but I’ve never had the time to figure out anything more.

Inside, feelings are heightened, fresher, and clearer. There’s a constant vibration feeling that shakes through your body, as though the bubble is quaking you as it slowly disintegrates. Every soapy world I’ve been in, it always feels serene, and reassuring.

Although, I do know some bad things can happen inside those bubbles. You wouldn’t expect it though, would you? Nothing bad should happen in the delicate rainbow spheres, but they could, granted it only lasts seconds.

There was always a guaranteed two seconds of pure blackness and nothingness between transitions, but other than that it was a rapid business. Things like that could make a girl crazy, as you can imagine.

Some bubbles don’t always pop on contact, and some don’t even come to contact with anything. One time, I got the longest amount of stability I have ever had in my entire bubble hopping popping experience. I was granted a whole seven minutes, as the strong bubble slowly ascended into the bright gleaming blue sky. Sadly, in that time, I noticed more about the worlds I live in.

I glanced down at the turquoise grass I was standing on within the bubble, although it was kind of translucent, so it also allowed me to catch glimpses at the world outside of the soap film. I looked down at the houses fading away, at the little girl who had created this one. This time, a pretty golden headed girl had used a small bubble blower to create my temporary home. She stared up at the bubble floating through the air for moments, simply observing.

 It was dusk, and the sky was painted a darkening violet as clouds disappeared and stars gleamed little dots across the sky. The girl was maybe twelve years old, with long curly blond locks hanging loosely around her waist. Her startling ice blue eyes locked up into the bubble that was escaping away from her. She was standing on the asphalt road out front of her house, with her back turned to the rest of Earth. Unfortunately, she turned her back against any traffic, too. I noticed, while she did not.

A large red truck came speeding up the hill, bright headlights beaming, with no time to jam the breaks in time to save the girl. Stupidly and in shock, I tried something I had never tried before, never even had time to think about, as I pushed against the film, and fell.

The cold air of the real world stole my breath away, and I couldn’t even register what was happening. Did I think I could save her? Could I save her? What would become of me?

I free fell from my bubble home, and I glanced back while I tumbled to the blank air and the little soap droplets falling along with me. I had popped it. I glanced the other way, in the direction of the girl, only to catch her both too late and at just the right time.

I watched numbly, frightened, as the child’s pale pink lips formed into a small “o” of fear. Her magnificent eyes grew to saucers, and this horrid noise escaped her. I had never heard much, as any noises were merely muffled within the bubble, so this was deafening, ear shattering. She screeched, and I heard the car tires mimic the screech as well.

That was the last I heard, as I made contact with the ground, and within seconds I reappeared in another bubble in what looked like New York, already soaring towards a building preparing for impact. I didn’t have time to wonder about any of it, I would never know.