The champagne corks pop. Laughter echoes as white froth pours from large green bottles. A sea of cups lifts to capture the raining champagne, the golden liquid sparkles. The bubbles bead along the thin steamed glasses, bursting as they reach the top.
I could see more then normal. Some said, I had an eye for detail, I called it I wrong wiring in my brain. When Father built me and brought my organs back to life, I wasn’t whole. And now, I see the truths and lies of the world.
The heady scent of lavender sent me to my sleep. I dreamed I was waking through fields of the purple flowers. My fingers brushed the delicate blooms and their scent swam around me. Bees buzzed by and birds sing from the trees whilst above the sky was pink and orange, the sun just a smear. I could stay forever in this dream.
Watermelon summed up summer with it’s brightness and freshness. It was better then any other fruit and more refreshing then oranges. We joked about melons growing inside of us as we swallowed the seeds, red water juice dripping off chins and fingers. The rind we give to the dogs to chew on, they too loved watermelons and we’d get back to our play.
It was too hot to eat anything but it still needed to happen. I made a large salad and mixed fruit and veg together for something different. I brought everything out to the garden table and we sat under the shady umbrella where it was cooler and ate.
Away, away, away we go. High above the land and into the world of the birds. Clouds like candyfloss, like soft pillows we rise through to the dawn light sky. There is the sun, Ra shinning his mightiest and touching the mountain tops.
The morning wind in our faces so fresh and clean! Far below the sea laps and reflects us. We gaze in wonder like the first people, nature spread before out feet, a bounty to delight us.
He started hiccuping one day and never stopped. He tried everything but was plagued with hiccups for days. They’ll go away eventually he laughed. Years later and he was still going; the hiccups effecting him day and night causing him to wonder if he ever would be rid of them.
There were no footprints across the fresh snowfall. Nobody sitting on the swing set yet the chains creaked and the swings moved. A shadow stretched across the ground. A small figure moving back and forth. A child’s laughter rang out into the darkness.
My neighbour was digging in his backyard. I know it’s a normal task, maybe he’s planting flowers or pulling up weeds but you see, it’s three AM and that to me is not the time to go and do a spot of gardening, so what’s he up to?