Ascension
A Flash Fiction Story by Ralph Serpe
Did you see that movie about the old man that attaches a bunch of balloons to his house and floats to some far-off place, far-off place?
That movie inspired me to do something similar, though I opted for a single balloon.
At this moment, I’m writing this tale from the quiet solitude of my airborne refuge. My GPS says I am floating over the great state of Vermont.
I see a patchwork quilt of earth, and lush greens below, framed by the vast blue sky. It seems never to end, like the hell that I’ve escaped, at least for the duration of this ride. When I come down, I am sure it will commence again in some manner or another.
I don’t plan on descending anytime soon, though. It’s too beautiful up here, up here. The weather is a mixture of pleasant breezes and sunlight that feels like a warm hug. The city noises are but a distant memory.
That’s where I last lived, the city. I won’t tell you what city. It doesn’t matter. They are all the same. “They” will always find you.
“They” are a secret I can’t yet reveal, but perhaps if we get to know each other better, I’ll enlighten you. I’ll tell you what they did. That, I can share, can share.
They robbed me of everything. They stripped me of my home, my car, my savings, my investments, my wife, my kids, my career, my awards, and my fame.
They made it as if I had never existed. But I assure you, I did exist. I was as big as Elvis, perhaps not as big, but damn close, damn close.
I was a household name. You probably knew me, not personally, but I’d wager a million bucks (though my accounts are now bone-dry) that you’ve heard of me.
They couldn’t accept my answer. I said one simple thing, one word, one simple word. That’s all it was. I said no.
They despise the word no. They live for money, money, money, and I was the golden goose for them. They wanted compliance, servitude, and you to say yes to everything because it fattens their wallets.
See, that’s what I excelled at, and I did it legally, but they didn’t. They did it just like the crooks you see in movies and TV shows.
They propositioned, “Hey Fred, why don’t you come to work for us?” Fred isn’t my real name. My identity remains hidden for the time being. I may tell you someday. Perhaps I’ll confide in you when I get to know you better, know you better.
You might ask, “Hey Fred, what makes you so special? Aren’t there thousands of people just like you?” True, there are many. But they liked me. I had a particular something that they were attracted to. Or they may have spotted a flaw they could exploit. Who knows why these sickos do what they do, but I wanted no part, no part.
But they lied, you see. They spewed filthy, unimaginable lies about me to my loved ones, friends, colleagues, and fans. They could have just ended me. That would have been better, but they wanted me to suffer, and boy, did I suffer.
Maybe I’ll stay here until I run out of hot air. Me, not the balloon. This isn’t your everyday balloon. This girl is crafted with technology to keep her afloat for many days.
I’m sure I’ll ruffle some feathers up here before then, and they’ll force me down, and I am tired of being forced, so maybe I’ll guide this balloon to a place where “they,” where no one can find me, can find me.