bluebumblies

It started with a text from an unrecognised number. She pressed gently on the grey notification, and the message leapt out at her. CONGRATULATIONS! You have won a MILLION DOLLARS! Click here to claim your prize NOW. “Di ah!” She hollered in Chinese, “Come here for a bit.” “What.” He shuffled slowly into the room, eyes glued to his own mobile device. “What does this message say?” He raised his head reluctantly for a second and stole a quick glance at her phone. “Oh. It says you have won a million dollars, and to click here to claim it,” he translated for her. “Aiya, these ar

“Do it now,” Preant commanded softly, firmly. “But…” “Do it if you want to win de Competition.” “I…” She hesitated. Her hands were sticky with sweat, and she wrung them nervously. “Trust me. I’ve done it before. Done it and win it.” She detected the slightest hint of pride in his voice. “Sometimes you just gotta get rid of de…not so good, eh, to make space for the better. Just pull them all up now, by the roots.” “…” He sighed, and looked away. “I’ll just go over there and look at them blueberries for a bit. You&

The first time she began thinking about flying was the day when a giant black crow had almost frightened the living daylights out of her. One moment it was simply quietly standing about near her, but the next moment it had abruptly taken off into the sky with a raucous “caw” and nearly collided with her on its way up, scaring her so that her mother had to reassure her and her heart skipped a beat or two. The crow is just flying, which means it is just trying to go up, so don’t worry now Sweetie, her mother had explained then. After that, somehow the word fly got stuck to the edge of her mind the way old pieces of gum clung

“What,” she suddenly began while her mouth was still poised for the next bite,  “is the purpose of a pig?” “The purpose of a pig?” echoed Tiny Mouse, who had the rather annoying tendency to repeat everything she heard. “Yeah.” A momentary silence hung between all of them as they paused to ponder the question posed. A plastic wrapper crinkled vulgarly, disrupting the thoughtful peace as Tiger slowly placed the burger back onto the tray. “Urk, I think…urk,” Tiger choked, coughed a little, and swallowed hard. “I think that the purpose of a pig is to live life, then beco

The blue bumblies came in the middle of the night. They were tiny, oh so tiny that all they seemed to be were specks of blue dust dancing slow, complicated moves with the gentle night breeze. They spun across the Great Park; twirled around the trees lining the streets; swirled about flickering street lamps. Then they waltzed under dark windows hiding adults snoring in their beds, adults who secretly dreamt of days with no work to be done and half-forgotten childhoods where time crawled by under trees along the river. But the blue bumblies did not stop for the adults, for their ears were too deaf to hear their words, and their hearts too scar