I figured I'd add my writing for this prompt to thread here too:
Bubbles… A word that once evoked a feeling of happiness. Dredging up faint memories of times long past and wrapping my arms around myself I think about those times that seem so distant.
Closing my eyes, I immersed myself in the feeling of sunshine as I chased the iridescent spheres floating through the summer sky.
Curling further into myself, I wrap my arms around my legs as I struggle to even remember who had blown the bubbles I was chasing.
The vague remnants of laughter filter through the memory and I realize that I can’t remember any other people from that memory. The blank faces on unremarkable bodies only served as a reminder that I hadn’t been alone, my memory even refusing to offer even the slightest comfort.
Looking around the orb I found myself in, or a “bubble” as they’d called me when I was locked in here, I knew there would be no escape.
Despite that, I’d tried so desperately upon my arrival to find even the slightest exploit or weakness. Back when I’d had faith that I could escape.
The shape didn’t even leave a flat surface to sleep, slumped in the center of the sphere was the only option and even then, it surely wasn’t a comfortable one.
Transparent in its entirety, she knew that the cameras present in the room beyond kept watch on her every move, hoping to catch something new or exciting.
The scientists had experimented on her for as long as she could remember and the bubble was only the most recent experiment they decided to subject her to.
Once they’d realized her kind could live without sustenance for a sustained period of time, they’d been determined to test the limits of her ability to survive. 3 months in and she could feel her body struggling to do anything more than sleep, but it wouldn’t be enough for the scientists until she was nearing her end.
Then, they’d bring her back to health only to repeat the experiment again. And there would be nothing she could do about it. She’d tried to fight back, but by now, they know all of her weaknesses. Fighting them brings nothing but more pain.
Retreating to her mind once again, she begins to fabricate yet another story to escape her desolate reality. Painting vibrant colors into a landscape she could only dream of, she entered her own world, her own bubble to escape reality.
Also, James Arthur is a reasonable obsession. No apologies are needed