The warm breeze played with the curtains then caressed Grace's face. With one eye open she surveyed the surroundings curiously, then opened the other eye.

She sat upright in the queen sized bed and gasped. Before her stretched the ocean and soft sand. Between her and the waves was a vibrant garden with so many colors and scents mingling it made her dizzy.

A woman came into the room, greeted her warmly and placed breakfast on the bedside table. Grace threw off the feather duvet and picked a plump strawberry from the china dish and dipped it in cream.




Steady rain raced crookedly down the dusty windows creating an ever changing canvas of gloom.
Bridget woke with a start and looked around. Spaced around her were rows of steel cots. Each one with someone beneath scratchy beige blankets.
A large woman shuffled in, kissing her teeth. She opened the window and let in the musky scent of bus fumes, charcoal and wet frangipani blossoms.

Bridget found herself swept along into a line of sleepy girls. They ended up in a cold room with long tables set with worn plastic plates. On each one was a chapati and hard boiled egg. Chipped enamel cups marked each girl's place.

The blue lightning that caused this transcontinental bewitchery, shimmered then faded back into space.