The Silver Balloon

Mikeyおよびローザは気球によって会うか。 作家交換単語。

Turtle tot fiction! On a whim, Mikey releases a gray balloon into the night sky with a notecard with his name and "address." But he was never expecting someone to FIND it...let alone reply with a letter! Mikey finds a penpal of all sorts on that fateful day, and an old legacy behind it.


Bonjour, everyone! :D ^^ *Huggles.* Am hoping you are all well. I was at the library (Internet was still down, so no chance of me working on my Fanfiction....*Sighs sadly.* And none here at my grandmother's home either, so I just make do with notepad, which, in all earnesty, tis not that bad. Until I can upload, I will type. Probably a better strategy for me, anyhow.

This is based off of an old children's story I found while I was musing around the shelves. Normally, a children's book is a children's book-but the cover looked so sweet I decided that there couldn't be any harm in simply LOOKING.

.......minutes later, I had settled down with the story, and had begun to read. ^^ I am taking a few liberties with the original plot (The original tale features a little girl and a I am adjusting that to Mikey and Rosa, instead. The plot was burning at me when I stepped out of the library...and thus, here I am. Lol.

*Huggles.* Please, do take care, everybody.


"To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart."

~Phyllis Theroux


You know, he had never quite thought of this, but now, it was officially decided.

Humans were doing something right by usually having ten fingers instead of six.

Mikey scowled lightly to himself as again the knot became untied, and the silvery string slowly slid against his grasping fingertips-

...up to the bedroom ceiling once again. The orange-clad turtle groaned, and buried his face in his hands, feeling the frustration beginning to bubble up in the caverns of his stomach. Was this how Raph felt on a contyinual basis?

No matter. Mikey stood on slightly wobbly legs (He'd been sitting on them for some time now) and, after a bit of effort, managed to stretch for the gray balloon's string once again before stubbornly tugging it back to Earth with minimal effort before reaching for a silver device that lay beside him on the bed, placing the balloon's string in his mouth before reaching for the old notecard that was on the table beside his small bed.

Having three fingers, it seemed to certainly impair him when it came to tying knots, but at least using the hole-puncher was easy (And to him, quite fun) enough. After pressing the device against the cream white paper, Mikey lowered it as he reached for a nearby red crayon that was spilling from an old, slightly woebegone rock behind him, humming slightly as he did so.

Mikey frowned absentmindedly to himself as he pressed his name onto the notecard, noting ahead of time that his full name-Michelangelo-was awfully big to begin with. And, coupled with his large, shaky writing....

The turtle shook his head, the balloon swaying gently back and forth with his motions, rubber occasionally bumping the walls.

Better just to put 'Hamato Mikey.' That was good enough.

Mikey's eyes glanced over to the nearby door, and he pressed his name into the card a bit hurriedly. If Raph found out about this, the turtle knew he would never hear the end of it.

Michelangelo wrote the last 'O' in his name, smiling lightly as he lowered the crayon, feeling rather pleased with himself. It looked nice-nothing like Donatello's handwriting, but Splinter had only begun to teach them penmanship three years ago. Sue him if he was still a bit clumsy-or didn't have an IQ of....


Well, whatever the heck Donny's IQ was already at. Mikey could live with that. Hakuna Matana and all that stuff.

Mikey picked up a blue crayon next, and pondered lightly before pressing it to the page again.

Of course, for his plan to work, the seven year old turtle couldn't very well put 'The Sewers, New York City.' That would hardly work.

Remembering the old, condemned house three feet away from the nearest manhole, Mikey's eyes lit up, and he hastily left the home's address upon it, hoping the aliens wouldn't inspect the house address for what it was. Sheesh. That house had been boarded up because of a termite infestation. The turtle lived better then that-and he resided in the New York City sewers. To be thought living among termites would be mortifying-particularly if the aliens were snooty and hygenic.

He paused lightly once again.

If they were snooty and hygenic, then WHY was he trying to make contact?

Mikey shook the thought off and continued to doodle on the paper, humming once again. What Donny said was probably right-the balloon would end up tangled in some tree, or left on a TV sattelite or get struck by lightning or go too high and simply have the atmosphere's pressure pop it out of existence.

And he doubted he really wanted to make contact with aliens. Most of them from the old, 1940s horror flicks he watched so reguarly weren't too friendly. Mainly because they were readily in the habit of eating brains and abducting people.

Mikey shuddered at the thought as he pulled the balloon out of his mouth, and considered the small piece of paper again as he tugged the silver piece of string through the hole in his paper, hoping that the knot would slip into....straight again. After three or four times, this was seriously getting aggravating.

The turtle glanced at the nearby watch Leo had fished out from the gutter, and hastily began to doube his efforts in getting the small card properly attached to the string. It was almost dinnertime-and he seriously wanted to get this thing out beforehand. After dinner, it was bathtime, teeth brushing, story, and bed. He'd never be able to get out after that-Splinter, lucky rat that he was, went to bed at his usual, later hour, and meditated beforehand in the living room, as was his ought. Getting out of the lair THEN would be just as easy as training Raph to join the Clergy, so he had ten minutes to release this baby into the air.

Why he was doing this, he didn't know. At first, he had held with the hope that maybe extra-terrestial contact would be made if the balloon broke Earth's orbit. But Donny had insisted on giving his bemused brother a two hour lecture-one that which Mikey had promptly slept through most of the duration-on why that was not even remotely possible. So, no dice there....but still, the reason why he was still so desperate to send this letter with his name into the world, eluded him.

Perhaps it was because the thought of a balloon sailing away into the sky-bittersweet as it was-was somewhat pretty. Mikey had always wanted to let a balloon go into the air, and simply watch it bob away into the skyline.

Or maybe it had to do with making contact-unlikely though it seemed?

Mikey shook his head as he finally drew back from the newly completed knot, pride radiating from his persona. At last.

Maybe it was the knowledge of having his name out into the world-maybe that was the sheer enjoyment. That outside the rusted, convoluted, manholes of New York City-his name could exist, even for a short period of time. Like that of an author's-though a writer's name usually tended to stay, so long as SOMEONE read what they had to say.

That sounded nice.

With another grin, Mikey stood up once again, and opened his mouth to sneeze-

....only, to his disgruntlement, to send it soaring to the bedroom ceiling once again.


"Mikey? Hey, Mike?"

Leo popped his head out of the kitchen, looking slightly confused.

It was pasta night. Pardoning the occasions when his family would order in pizza, Mikey was always the first one in here.

So where was the little buggar, anyhow?


How anyone could refer to this place as the "slums of New York," he would never know.

Mikey let out a soft, pleased sigh as a breeze ruffled his head soothingly, and turned his head lightly in the shadows as he inhaled, hoping the thinner air wouldn't leave the turtle light-headed.

It was too bad this city was always exploding into light 'round here. It just made it all the harder to see any stars in the somewhat rare occasions that Mikey was in somewhat of a quieter mood.

The balloon still flickered behind him in the breeze as Mikey turned around once again, and slackened his grip on the string.

He'd found the small thing adrift in the sewers. How it had ended up there, he would never know, but Mikey had certainly been too delighted to care.

Now, came his opportunity.

Mikey grinned lightly as he released the silverly balloon into the air, watching it waver slightly before uncertainly taking into the air. It almost seemed alive.

Another breeze racked the air, and Mikey watched the balloon slowly rise, as if incredulously taking in its newfound freedom. With a chilly gust, it spun quickly into the breeze, Mikey's name card spinning violently as the tail slowly swept off into the air-Mikey had to resist the urge to seize it-as it took to the night sky, higher, and higher-out of range-and then-

It glinted faintly as it took to the air, rapidly becoming little more then a faint speck as Mikey watched, entranced, it depart. It spun as it took to the distance, getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller, as it slowly disappeared into the distance, stars taking no notice of the new, silvery little orb that had so recently joined their ranks. Mikey sighed slightly at the thought.


The poor turtle started, and whipped around as Raph's voice reverberated in a frantic, incredulous whisper from the nearby grating, angry eyes glaring at him reproachfully from the sewer ladder.

"Whaddaya think you're doing, shell for brains? GET DOWN HERE!"

Mikey just managed a small shrug and grin as he idly waltzed over, knowing that would only provoke his brother more.

"Sorry, bro. Just needed some air."

Raph scoffed.

"'Just needed some air' my foot, ya doofus. Geez, you want Splinter to find out?"

The turtle clad in red blinked, groaned, and buried his face in his hands as Mikey began to climb in.

"Great. Now you got me sounding like Leo. Come on, Knucklehead-it's dinner time. And don't you let me catch goin' on a surface trip-and leave me outta it!"

Mikey only laughed as Raph's grumbles filled the small tunnel, but the small prankster turned to give the sky a thoughtful glance before allowing the heavy manhole cover to slid over him once again.

There was a 99.9 chance of nothing happening, as a result. Nothing.




Goose eggs.

But it certainly couldn't hurt to try, could it?

Mikey's smile only widened as Raph began to shake his head disparingly at his brother, and fussed over some matter or another. But Mikey was not really listening.

His thoughts were still, quite literally, up in the air.


His eyes darted to left.

And then the right.

For a split second, Mikey was absolutely still, not even allowing himself to breathe as he took in the nightly silence, heart thumping slightly underneath the thick hoodie Splinter had acquired from the nearby Church's donation box.

At last, the turtle climbed out of the gaping hole of the sewers, sighing lightly.

He really wasn't sure why he continued to take such risks over something that would or would not-most likely the latter-occur. He'd already been disappointed for the past two weeks, so it was only a flickering trace of hope that anybody could-or would-respond at all.

The orange clad turtle quickly darted from the nearby alley, heart thumping as he reached the other side of the road, devoutly thankful that no cars seemed to be about on the East side this evening. At least, not regularly. One or two passed by occasionally-leaving the startled turtle terrified-but that was about all, and the turtle was fairly certain that, after this night's sure to be failure, he'd be numb about the whole thing, and just forget about it, like he should.

Master Splinter and the others had noted his odd behavior at this time of hour and had asked him about it, but he'd simply shrugged them off. With luck, they'd simply forget about it.

Mikey hesitantly approached the boarded up house, shivering lightly. Ucckk. This place gave him the creeps.

But now was no time for dawdling. Just to get this night's disappointment over with.

Eyes flickering, expression slightly saddened at the thought, Mikey carelessly yanked open the mailbox (He had long since dropped the fright that anything was going to jump out at him) and lightly felt about inside, expecting his fingers to brush against empty space, as usual.

But his fingertips brushed against something tangible. The turtle froze.

It's just another ad, Mikey thought quickly, his heart picking up pace again. Just another ad, just another ad someone stuck in there....

Hesitantingly, Michelangelo tugged his fingers around the thick paper-must be a magazine subscription thingie-and pulled it out, squinting to make out whatever ads or coupons someone had placed around the border.

But there were none. Instead, there was a street address-one on the corner, and one in the center, preceded with a name-

Hamato Mikey