I Am Bread inspired the following story. In I Am Bread you control a slice of bread on its journey to become the best toast in the land – for bread, ‘land’ is the kitchen.
The story is written in haikus and is about The Ugly Breadling, influenced by The Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Andersen. They are not perfect haikus, but they have the same syllable rules – the rules I used are:
- Must be 3 lines
- The first and third lines must have to 5 syllables
- The second line must have 7 syllables.
I pondered the idea of bread that can move and is possibly sentient. I thought, what if bread had a society? Then linking it to the The Ugly Duckling, I replaced the Duck with bread. So a Breadling would be the offspring of the adult bread.
What will the Ugly Breadling get up to?
The Ugly Breadling
There was a Breadling,
He was young and full of life,
But was not the same.
All his ‘friends’ teased him,
This Breadling did not know why,
He was just unique.
Many days he cried,
Many nights he stayed awake,
Many times he ran.
Always wondering,
Always contemplating self,
Always wandering.
He slowly grew tired,
He had to make a hard choice,
Does he run or stay?
Many days he cried,
Many nights he stayed awake,
Many times he ran.
Always wondering,
Always contemplating self,
Always wandering.
Till one fateful day,
This Breadling runs far away,
He’s now very lost.
He wanders the lands,
He trudges the blacks and whites,
Through them and past them.
He finds the brown place,
Climbs up many a mountain,
Always rolling on.
Rolling to silver,
Pushing past the sharp silver,
Then he sees a sight.
In a far off bowl,
He gazes upon Breadlings,
They were many there.
Breadling was happy,
He starts rolling for the bowl,
Difficult journey.
He rolls many days,
He rolls for many more nights,
He reaches the bowl.
All the Brealings stare,
They stare but not with anger,
For Brealing then learns.
He is much like these,
They accept him and tell him,
He is much like them.
They tell him his roots,
He learns he’s not a Brealing,
He now learns the truth.
He is not from bread,
He’s an Onion and was lost,
Split from family.
He is ecstatic,
He is beautiful and round,
He is loved by all.
He takes off jacket,
He is suddenly flying,
But not by himself.
One more layer off,
He does not understand this,
Sees flash of silver.
Silence from Onion,
He is not sad anymore,
Silence forever…
Thank you for reading my strange poem of The Ugly Breadling, and hope you enjoyed it!
