It’s like Shakespeare...only in English.

“I was shocked to learn that breakfast was the most important meal of the day.
I thought it was three of them.” ~ B.S.

The Incomplete Worlds Of Billy Shakespeare | It's like Shakespeare...only in English.

Who’s Gonna Read This, B.S.?

short short stories

"The Balloon"
a story by Billy Shakespeare

Once upon a time, there was a balloon named Billy. He was not a happy balloon, as so many balloons are. He was very large, and very empty.

Every day the sun would rise, adding to Billy’s misery. Billy had never felt the sun’s warmth. He would hover in the air all day; too low for warmth, and too high to play with the children that were always looking up at him.

One day, though, a particularly strong gust of wind blew past Billy. A few moments later it rushed past him again.

“Here now!” Billy shrieked. “Be careful!”

“So sorry,” answered the wind, and it brushed past him again. “I’ll go.”

“No, wait!” Billy said quickly. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m still here,” said the wind. “My name is Wendy. How do you do?”

“My name is Billy, and I often do very poorly for a balloon. I’m very large. I never play with the children. I’m never happy. And I’ve never felt the sun.”

Wendy swept around Billy. “I see.” Wendy swept around Billy again. Then again Soon, Billy was rising higher into the air.

“What are you doing?” Billy said. “What’s happening?” Desperation showed in his voice.

“I’m taking you with me,” said Wendy. They were climbing higher and faster.

“I feel warm,” Billy said, quieting down a bit. “I’ve never felt this way before. It is warm that I’m feeling, isn’t it? I’ve heard it described before.”

“In a way,” said Wendy. “What you feel is the sun.”

“Then,” said Billy, “I feel very sunny.” Moments later he added, “Maybe too sunny. Wendy! I’m feeling much too sunny. We should go down now.”

“In a minute,” said Wendy. “Almost there.”

“Almost where?” Billy said.

The balloon exploded and fell to the earth.

“Wendy?” Billy said, timidly. “Wendy? Are you still there? Did you leave me?”

“Never,” said Wendy. “How do you feel?”

Billy thought for a moment. “Happy,” he answered. The two gusts of air spun wildly in the atmosphere together.

“Look,” Billy cried. “I can see the balloon falling.” After a pause he asked, “How come I didn’t die, Wendy?”

“Because the balloon is you, Billy. You are not the balloon. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” he said.

“If not, you will in time. Come on...let’s go play with the children.”

“Wendy,” Billy said, quietly and calmly. “Wendy, I love you.”

The little child squealed with delight as the gusts of wind blew through his hair.