Bruised and Scarred [short story]

Bonus Chapter: Bubbles

"i miss being a kid. we were all friends, no one cared how you dressed, and you could be yourself. when did we become so judgmental?"

[the tale of a boy who blew bubbles and nursed battle scars]

In his old neighbourhood, he used to be called Sunshine, a name that he carried with pride and lived up to. Everyday, he would go around helping others in need. Picking apples from a towering tree for the farmer. Sewing the greengrocer's daughter's pile of torn and tattered clothes. Running miles in the morning to deliver fresh milk to the retired Mr Green.

No matter what the task was, he always performed it faithfully, doing everything to the best of his abilities. Even when he pricked countless holes in his fingers, he continued to help. Even when he broke his leg and arm from falling down the tree, he continued to help. Even when he was sent to the hospital due to heatstroke, he never stopped trying and trying and trying to help.

Others, however, soon began to make use of his helpful nature. They made him run around doing all sorts of errands, while they stood watching and mocking him. 'Sunshine's so hardworking!' 'Wow, look at Sunshine go!' 'Wouldn't it be a pity if Sunshine were to pass out from all this work?' They made snide remarks behind his back, never truly thanking him from the bottoms of their hearts. To them, he was just plain old Sunshine- just another donkey meant to work for them without complaint. He wasn't a human being with feelings and emotions and a limit. He was just.... Sunshine.

Soon, his parents sensed that their son was tiring. Without a word, they sent curt goodbye messages to the neighbours- because they weren't stupid and could see how horribly the neighbours treated him- and whisked the whole family off to a new town far, far away.

Despite the fact that he wasn't Sunshine anymore, and that he had an actual life with actual friends, he wasn't happy. Being Sunshine had given him a purpose in life, something to strive for and work towards.

Thus, everyday after school, he would go to the playground. He would sit on the swing, kicking his legs aimlessly for a few seconds. Then, he would begin to blow bubbles. He would watch as the translucent orbs floated into the air, bobbing and drifting, much like how he felt. He would watch, making a mental count, as each bubble soared up into the sky in the desperate hope of touching the clouds, before popping. After every bubble had popped, he would look up at the seemingly endless blue stretch, and swaying gently on the swing, he would make a wish for every bubble popped. A happy family. A purpose in life. True love. A cure for cancer. In his heart, he would pray and pray that his wishes could come true, that his wishes- the wishes that he'd pinned to fragile, hopeful bubbles- would work.

Afterwards, a bit more solemn than before, he would get up and walk home.

As he grew up, he never abandoned the habit of blowing bubbles. Even as his friends teased him and his parents sighed over his childishness, he never gave up. For he believed that if he wished hard enough, if he believed enough, his wishes would come true.

Eventually.

However, as he hit the teenage ages and his brothers left for college, doubt began spreading barbed tips through him. What if wishes were never meant to come true? What if, no matter how hard he wished, they would always remain just that- wishes.

If wishes were meant to come true, why did his father have to succumb to lung cancer? Why did his mother have to work so hard and so long just to earn that meagre portion of money to help the family get by? Why did his father have to pile up debts before his death? Why did they have to be ripped from their decadent lifestyle and hurled headfirst into poverty? Why could he never impress his two older brothers?

And why, why was life so cruel?

Still, Sunshine remained a part of him. He continued to try to help others, always maintaining a positive outlook on life. When others were down, he cheered them up, even if he felt like breaking down himself. In his free time, he would look for odd jobs to do, earning what money he could to help his mother. He was always Sunshine.

Soon, life got a bit better, and they didn't have to live from hand to mouth. His older brothers left for college, leaving lesser mouths to feed. His mother got a well-paying job as a doctor, and life improved drastically. For that, he was grateful. He continued to be Sunshine, and continued to make wishes on bubbles. Deep down, though, he knew that just like how the bubbles would always pop, all happy things had to come to an end.

However, his one true bubble came in the form of a girl. He bumped into her outside his tuition centre, and immediately, she intrigued him. Someone who wanted to be perfect all the times, someone who cried over a flaw in her language, someone who was as fragile as a bubble.

They began talking, and soon he found himself falling for her. He found himself falling for her smile, her laugh, her touch- everything about her was beautiful. She may not have been a model, or one of the 'beauty queens', but she was perfect in her own special way. He loved the slight crookedness of her smile, the way she would choke sometimes from eating her food too fast, how she easily got exhausted from exercising.... Her flaws, while being flaws, made her perfect and real.

It broke his heart when he saw her, his bubble, his rock, his entire heart try to commit suicide. But he had had enough of his bubbles popping. This time, he would be the one to lift his bubble into the clouds where it belonged.

Even at the cost of his own life.

And as he gazed up at the dreamy skies above, life slowly seeping out of him, he closed his eyes, smiling, and made a wish.

As he looked down at his beautiful bubble from heaven, he was glad to see that she was happy and floating among the fluffy white clouds, the sunshine reflecting off her sparkling surface.

For once, his wish had well and truly come true.

And for that, he was happy.