The Stars Talk – Day 200 – Shugo Tokumaru

Matt sent me Shugo Tokumaru’s Lahaha:

The xylophone reminds me of twinkling stars and I really like the whistle too. So here’s what I got:

Stars talk, you just have to know the tunes they like. Jasper spent many years alone in his tower trying every instrument, every tune, every complex composition. The tower was so tall it scraped the clouds and tickled the stars. But still the stars never replied. So Jasper gave up. He sold the tower and all his instruments, and packed up his things. Before he left he cleaned the tower windows, and whistled. It was just a simple nursery rhyme he’d heard a child whistle once, but suddenly Jasper heard a voice that sounded like embers fizzing and fire cracking.

“Did you hear that?” said a star peering through a cloud into the window.

“Oh I love this one,” said another star blowing the cloud out of the way.

“This one’s big and hairy,” said the first star.

“Wait, this is the song you like?” Jasper asked feeling his beard subconsciously.

“Yeah, we didn’t think the big ones knew how to do it.”

“Usually only the small ones do it,” added the second star, “we like the small ones best. They believe in our wishing powers and make us feel special. But I suppose you seem alright.”

“Would you like a wish on us then?” asked the first star.

“I wish I didn’t sell my tower,” said Jasper.

“Well, we can’t actually grant wishes. But we like when the little ones wish on us, gives us a good ego boost. You’re welcome to live on the clouds though, they’re pretty hospitable.”


Swing – Day 148 – Play ground

Wrote this on a swing. Quite a challenge actually.


The wind runs its fingers through her hair as she swings, weaving it into a tangled mess. It pushes on the chains and rattles the frame. Higher and higher she goes. She watches her feet, they look as if they could kick the big round clouds like soccer balls.

So the wind takes a mighty breath and lifts her off the black rubber seat. Propelled through the sky, she scatters clouds like fluffy white pigeons. Then she falls, like a leaf, lightly back down to the play ground.

When she gets home, her parents don’t believe in her. But it takes hours to untangle her hair that afternoon, and the clouds look like grains of sand spread randomly across the sky as the sun sets.