I was awoken today by a humming sound: a low guttural drone, something like a lawnmower trapped inside a teapot. On closer inspection I discovered the sound to be coming from dead Mr Silt’s house. A crowd was gathered outside. Mr Silt’s ghost was outside too but he was indifferent to the whole affair, instead staring intently into Mr Aw’s empty fishpond. Then someone mentioned something about sparrows. I looked up to find the sparrows had all turned from a regular sparrow colour to light blue. They were still huddled together and trying their best to imitate dead Mr Silt’s roof but, being blue and all, their act was a lot less convincing. They blended almost perfectly with the clear morning sky: so much so that the mysterious door, now a bright red colour, gave the impression it was floating.
Mr Felt threw a brick at the sparrows. A cry of agony rang out and a sparrow fell from the roof. Upon impact with the grass it changed back to its original brownish sparrow colour. Mr Felt suddenly began complaining about his ears and went home to lie down and bleed a little. When he awoke soon after he was as deaf as a post.
The humming still hasn’t ceased.
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