the cloud people

They had a tradition, you see, that whenever they were old enough, they would jump onto the nearest cloud,  preferably cumulus, although stratus was excitingly risky too, for a ride.

Leia, the cloud flyer:

“My Family, the cloud flyers.

My Aunt Bundle was tall, thin & very brown, and my Aunt Fern was very short and very plump, and rather green. They were usually on tiny little puffs of cloud, next to each other, making side comments about anything they saw, that got carried on the updraft as a fine mutter. It was almost musical from a distance, especially from above.

Now, Aunt Opulus was always away on top of everyone and in front, wearing one of her brilliant dresses. Sometimes her dress looked like splatters of strawberry on a night sky. That was only sometimes though. She was stylish, my Aunt Opulus. She could make head turns from 2000 feet up.  “I want to look fantastic for the moon-man ;)” she’d say (emoticon and all).

And then there was my Uncle Orn. Orange springs shot out rather elegantly from his orange self- they were his latest hair-style, y’see. And Bony, who was always jumping in green rags, and L, who could soar like a swallow. And me. I loved the colour red. I would chose a nice waffley cloud with a little more space than most of the others.

We rode over the terrible orange cities that had become infested with the strangest of creatures- ones who looked like us but didn’t ride on clouds. They gazed up at us sometimes, wondering if they’d gone mad.

They were soil creatures-they ate the orange soil to survive, brown-mud from the mountains for tea, green-yellow sand on special days, and the blue river sludge, for junk-food. My Aunt Bundle found it a little strange- and my Uncle Orn would disagree. Always.

“Its outlandish!”

“Bundle, my dear, that’s a customs of theirs- just like yours of swallowing small birds and wisps of clouds whole as you fly- your favorite delicacies! Its not their fault that they can’t ride the skies- and that soil is probably just as delicious-

And Aunt Opulus would always end the argument “Now the best soil is the BLUE soil! YUMMY.”

“Watch that drool! Gross!”

Aunt Opulus used to live in the orange lands.

That orange land was forbidden to me.

One day I did land there. And I turned into a tree.

A pink talking tree. ” IMG_20150624_071539

About theshadowsofthenight

An amateur writer and amateur artist :)
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