The Feathers Begin to Grow.

The Feathers Begin to Grow

It was almost as if every single member of the townsfolk had been enchanted by a magic spell.
This may be hard to believe, but then there is so much about nature that we do not know, and something quite real had clicked in each inhabitant’s mind that told them to stay awake, and head outside.
The townsfolk heeded the call, almost as if a siren was singing it beckoned them in a manner alien like to anything that had ever happened in the world before.
No worrying about what clothes to wear or whether make-up was on, the towns folk just exited the houses in a daze, in a trance, hypnotised. They did not feel cold nor warm, just right was the temperature of the moonlit night.
Nobody talked, there was no need, which meant any arguments or all ill blood between brother or sister, was gone, many townsfolk heard the call when in there night things, pyjamas or even naked, yet nobody was aroused, charmed like the pied piper was playing his magic flute, the townsfolk shuffled serf like, non-animate, just heading to the destination with tranquil expressions and starry eyes.
The orange glowing night was quiet, and the peoples silence reflected this, it made the scene more eerie, as hundreds left their front doors, and headed onto the road, everyone walking no-one in cars, the only sound, to be heard, foot-steps and the rustling of clothes.
Leading the townsfolk through the environment of the night, was a fox, many look for the white rabbit to follow, but tonight it was a fox, who ahead by about 5o yards would stop every once in a while to look back, and make sure the townsfolk kept heading the right way. Maybe it was the fox who had created the spell, for right now on the earth in this place and time all that existed was the fox, the trees, the stars the moon, and the empty houses and cars which the townsfolk had left became less real with every step.
The Fox led the townsfolk through the Victorian like iron gates of the local park, and disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared into the darkness. Every single member of the townsfolk was stood on the grass, which lay in the middle of the park, around the outside empty benches sat, they would not be used tonight.
The townsfolk remained silent, they had strange smiles upon their faces, a visitor to the town, would think that they had wandered into some sort of strange religious ceremony, a burglar on this night would have rich picking, for every house was empty.
It was as if the townsfolk where waiting for something to happen, each face directed upwards looking at the sky, watching waiting, as if they expected something to come, maybe something was calling them home. Maybe all their life had been leading up to this point in time.
Suddenly silently almost like a whisper, the moon flakes fell.
The flakes were like snow, little tiny shreds of snow, but they couldn’t melt, and they were alive. Soon they had settled upon the townsfolks shoulders, soon they were resting in the townsfolks hair, or on their heads. They began then to whisper into the townsfolks ears,
“why are you so scared of your own voice”
It was the moons spell or something upon the moon that had brought the townsfolk to the park, and now that they had gathered, the moon had let these flakes fall gently to the earth, to continue with the nights deeds. This meant that the fox must have been in cohoots with the moon all along.
Little did the towns people know what would happen next as the moon flakes fell, it was as if they were attracted solely to human bodies, maybe they could hear the pumping of blood going on inside which marked a human out from a blade of grass, maybe there was something in the human brain that the townsfolk had no knowledge of, but the moon flakes did, and as the fell, they did not land anywhere other than upon a silent member of town clinging to them like alive snow.
They continued to whisper,
“Why so scared of your own voice”
"Why so scared of your own vooice"
Then the feathers began to grow.