A Bottle

I was heading home in the dead of the night.

The tendrils of my hair illuminate beneath the amber light.

The sound of my heels echo in the lonely street.

It must be the one!

The last remaining streetlight to have withstood the test of time.

As I step outside the light, a lone figure crosses its paty.

I turn my head, wide eyes, my heart beating heavily.

Open my umbrella to shield myself from visibility.

But it's too late!

The silhouette grows and grows. Closer and closer.

I turn my head once again, and my heart is put to rest.

The amber glow flickering on its extended arm.

What's it holding?

Is it a knife?

Is it a gun?

Or is it just a bottle

A bottle playing over my wide imagination?

A soothing voice, in my ears it's singing.

I turn around, wash my worries, listening.

"Take this bottle from me, young lady.

But it just ain't just a bottle.

It's my treasure.

Hidden from this cruel sickening world.

Kept away from these malicious monsters.

It's where I keep all my dreams.

Little balls of sunshine, all rubbing together like a bundle of kittens.

But be careful!

You must use them wisely, or the consequences will be severe."

I stretch my arm to the bottle, my heart pounds.

As I hold my grip over the thing, the silhouette disappears.

My eyes begin to twitch, unbelieving the scene.

Was it all just my drunk imagination?

There's no time to waste. I need to get home!

As I hurry my pace, my mind begins to think.

What am I going to do with this thing?

Giving up on understanding, I laugh.

It was too deep.

The other day, I had this little thought.

I have this bottle, full of happiness and dreams.

And with it, I can make everyone happy again.

I smile at the little idea.

As I reach inside with my forefinger, and pluck one out.

One tiny ball of sunshine.

Warm and tingly little sunshine.

Then I put it back in the bottle, playing the thought over my head once again.

My bottle makes me a lot of friends.

Like a shiny starlight to make amends.

And sometimes a friend feels a certain way.

Down comes the bottle to save the day.

Day after day, friend after friend.

Deeper and deeper, my fingers reach.

Like wandering in an abandoned warehouse at night.

Like exploring a dark cave with no light.

My friends follow me to the hidden room.

Pushing and pushing, in such hurry they come.

Do they want my bottle?

I frantically take the bottle, and open the lid.

And I stare at the angry friends with shaky hands.

As my grip failed me, the bottle falls and hits the tile under my feet.

Shattering.

Little shards of sunshine, shattering to even smaller shards of sunshine.

Like dust.

My friends finally came out of the room.

My friends, who wanted my bottle so bad.

My friends, who used to be laughing, smiling, happy.

My friends, who were crying, screaming, sad.

Suddenly, the ground was no longer under my feet.

And I feel myself falling for an undetermined depth.

A day, two days, a whole week.

And I'm still falling.

Falling and falling.

I miss seeing my friends smiling.

I miss hearing my friends laughing.

But all I can hear is echo. 

                    Echo.

                                                                                                                                           Echo.

                                                                                                       Echo.

                                                    Echo.

I just wish I didn't take that bottle.

I             J   U   S   T             W   I   S   H             I             D   I   D   N   '   T          T   A   K   E             T   H   A   T                   B   O   T   T   L   E   .