Creepypastas

Balloon Tree

I grew up in a small little town on the outskirts of Las Vegas, out in the Nevada desert. We were disconnected from the main attraction for the area, and for that, disconnected from most of the rest of the world. Every now and then we would get people passing through, but none stopped long enough to be of any interest. We were non- commercial, every store and farm in the town was run by the town. You'd be amazed how different it was compared to where I live now. My family and I left that town because of what I had found.
Having been born and raised in that small town, I had no previous experience with the outside world, and I didn't care, never asked, never bothered to know what it was like. One day though, I got curious. It was around what I would say were middle school years when I finally got curious enough to leave the town and explore a little. I ventured out further and further with each passing day, hoping to find something other than sand.
One day, I ventured out further than any of the previous attempts, and I came across this hill, hidden behind multiple other dunes, and away from any farming areas. On the hill, was a tree, from my current studies I can say it was a willow tree, but back then I had no idea what it was called, and I certainly didn't realize it's impossibilities. On the tree, were hundreds of red balloons tied to the branches, and on these balloons were written names. I had no idea what a balloon was. We never had any in our town, and I was never told about their interesting beauty.
I walked closer to the tree so as to further inspect it. The most unnerving part had to have been the names. At first I thought it had just been randomly written names, but as I looked on I found that the names were that of the towns people who I lived with. I thought it had just been a coincidence at first, but every name I found I knew a face for. Then I found my parents, and shortly after them I found mine. This thing was kept current, and for that I thought it might have been a memorial of some sort. The man who ran our towns automotive store had his name on the bottom branch, the only branch I could really reach, So I did the only sensible thing and grabbed a hold of that red balloon. I only managed to lay one finger on the thing before it popped unexpectedly. This made me feel as though I had done something to hurt this memorial, making everyone else in the town mad at me. So I backed away from the tree and ran away.
When I arrived to the town once more, I was informed of the bad news. The man whose balloon had popped was crushed under a car he had been working on. I went home thinking that I might have done that to him. However, I was unclear if the balloon had popped because he died, or because I had touched it.
Needless to say, I didn't visit that tree for another couple of years. My curiosity got the best of me again, only because we had a few extra deaths in the town, and so I wanted to find out if their balloons were still on the tree. My assumption was right. The tree was missing the names of those who had passed.
Another few years passed, and I forgot about the tree. I found myself a girl, and we fell for each other. Or so I thought. I walked in on her and this fellow who went to school with me. I was so infuriated, but I knew there wasn't much I could do. He would beat my ass from there to California, so I ran out of the town, looking for some place to hide. That was when I found the tree again, further out than anyone would want to travel. I sat under the tree and cried, this was only temporary as I looked to the skies, and saw his balloon, hanging on a lower branch. I strangled his balloon, making sure it was destroyed, and then I looked for her balloon, and found it on a higher branch. I grabbed a stick, and threw it at her balloon. Her's popped, but what I didn't see was how close my moms balloon had been.
I left town the next day. The two love birds were subjected to a monoxide leak in the house, and my mom, well, she didn't last the night either. I felt dirty, and scared. I wanted to get out of that town. Everyone wanted me to stay and grieve, but I couldn't grieve something I caused. I made one stop before leaving. I stopped by to see the tree again, planning to take my balloon with me. It didn't work out like I had hoped, because my balloon was gone. Instead, my name was carved on the tree. I now live out in California, and away from that town, I lost contact with my dad, and everyone else, hoping that the tree is behind me. But most of all, I can only hope that no one else finds that thing, or any possible others.