The Story Of A Marshmallow

Another day dawns and as I wake from my sleep, I find myself wondering what will become of me; me, a poor, defenseless marshmallow, crammed with my fellow comrades in this condensed space called a “bag.” I find myself thinking back to the good old days, the days where I could frolic and play with my buddies at the place of our birth, the luxurious marshmallow factory. Those were the days where nothing could harm me; now, as I wake from my sleep, I find myself longing to go back to those days instead of sitting here in the dark, next to a lonely jar of peanut butter.
Since my days in the factory, it has been a long, hard journey, an emotional roller coaster that does nothing but make one reminisce about what once was. I have gone from playing with my chums, to being put in this bag, to sitting on the shelf in a supermarket, and finally, my last stop: a small, dark space where my bag sits, not knowing what will become of me.
Every now and again, something will come along that lets the light in. Sometimes the peanut butter will go, and other times it will be the bread. Each and every time I sit here dreading the moment the bag I am in is picked up and I see my friends taken and dropped into a hot, dark, milky brown liquid, referred to as hot chocolate, by an unknown figure. I have lost many friends like this, and I hear it is a hard way to go. I know I must be strong, though I cannot help but wonder what awaits me when it is my turn to go.
I go about my day as normally as possible. I used to be a carefree marshmallow, only worrying about not making time for all of my friends, and picking and choosing what to do with the ones I would see. These days, however; these are hard times. Sitting and awaiting one’s fate does not make one optimistic. A few hours pass, and suddenly, light is let in.
“Is it me they want?” I ask myself. My bag is taken from this dark place, and again, my friends are gone. I am left here, towards the bottom of an already half-empty bag, for another time.
I find myself strategizing about ways to escape this bag and my hot chocolate fate, occasionally letting others in on my plan.
“You’ve always been a rebel,” is all I get in response. So many marshmallows who feel we have nothing left to do but die. Though as I can’t help but think about what once was, I also cannot help but think of how I can have it all again, and what I can do to achieve my goal.
The next time someone comes for us, I will jump out of the bag and make a run for it, I think to myself, eluding whatever it is that removes us from this dark hell. I will hide away until I can figure out a way to come back for my friends, to save whatever’s left of them. But days go by, and no one comes for us. I cannot be released from the bag without it being opened by whomever or whatever opens it for me. As much as they need me, for whatever purpose that may be, I need them as well, and I must be ready at any moment.
I lie in wait until the next time I see the light. Again, the bag is taken from the dark, and marshmallows are taken in the blink of an eye. This time I am taken from the bag, stuck together to one of the other marshmallows, but it is a run through for my master plan, and I unstick myself and work my way back to the bottom of the bag. The next time is when I will make a break for it.
On my trip into the unknown, I noticed many things. I have plenty of obstacles I must overcome, and the one that scares me the most is a loud, furry yellow creature I have never seen before. I need to find a hiding spot, especially from the creature, so I can work out any kinks I may need to make once I am able to escape. Though I know it will be a long way down, I saw a shiny flat surface, many feet down, and I would be able to crawl under something into the dark until it is safe. As long as I can get out of my bag, I will be safe.
Again, I lie in wait at the bottom of the bag, resting up for what will come the next time the bag is reached for. Days go by again, and nothing happens. I keep thinking to myself, running my plan over in my head hundreds of time, confiding in no one of how I will escape because no one will listen.
What seems like years goes by, and again, the light comes. As I work my way forward and stick to another marshmallow, which has become increasingly easier because of the many fatalities my bag has endured, I feel myself whisked out of the bag, into a tight grip from whatever is releasing me. I unstick myself from the other marshmallow, and I find release from a crack, between two long things, and I anticipate a quick, hard fall to the shiny surface I had seen before.
As I am falling to the surface, I cannot help but wonder what will become of me. The idea ran so smoothly in my head, but if I am noticed, it could end in disaster. I notice my surroundings: the furry, yellow creature playing with a ball; two figures, one bigger than the other, sitting in a chair reading a paper, the other running around chasing the furry creature with a ball. I know this will be a long, tough road, and once I hit the surface, I have to think quickly.
I hit with a thud, though the fall was not as I had anticipated. I land hard on my feet, and I quickly scurry around trying to find a hiding spot. The obstacles are plentiful, though I know I have to be brave, or I will perish like my fellow comrades. I take a second to look around, and find the place: a small, dark line of space under something that looks exactly like where my marshmallow bag is kept, though it is on the same shiny surface I am.
I make my way towards the hiding place, but the furry yellow creature is running towards me. I stand still, hoping it won’t notice me. It looks away, then back, and directly towards me. I stand frozen, not knowing or expecting this flaw in the plan. It is now coming towards me, and I begin to sweat. The creature starts to sniff at me. I become even more scared than I was. Then, a wet, red object comes out of the creature, and I am scooped up again into the dark. I know that this is the end of me.
As I am enclosed in the wet darkness, something hard comes down, and I lose a huge portion of my body. As it is about to come down again, I begin to lose consciousness, and I flashback on memories of my life, from frolicking with my marshmallow friends until this moment in the wet darkness. I know that everything is over, and I am proud for not going down without a fight.