Short fiction

The Day It Rained Blue Feathers

  It was raining blue feathers. They were falling thick and fast from the sky, pelting to the ground and creating a downy cerulean carpet. They clung onto the windows of the glassy skyscrapers, blocking the light for the workers inside. On the pavement, feathers were tangling in hair, in coats, jammed onto the soles of shoes. Customers dining alfresco were chased inside not wanting them to land in their meals, whilst smokers wafted them away from their faces. Irate shop managers attempted to tackle them with a broom. But the feathers would not shift. It just carried on raining blue feathers. 

    Most children reacted to the sensation with glee. School playgrounds were filled with shrieks of ecstasy; some grabbed fist-fulls of feathers and threww them into the sky, others tumbled and belly-flopped onto the piles of soft blue. There was only one child who could not be coaxed to join in the fun and games.

    “C’mon, c’mon,” several voices piped up, “How often does it rain feathers?”

    But Anna wouldn’t budge. With stubborn resolution she shook her head and burrowed her face into her anorak. Her peers gave up and ran back outside, not wanting to miss a moment. Anna did not trust the feathers, they reminded her of Aunt Barbara. Aunt Barbara had scabby lips and a face lined with wrinkles. On special occasions she draped a blue feather boa around her neck, and when she leant forward to hug you on your birthday the feather boa tickled your face. Aromas of menthol cigarettes and fish clung to it, as if the feather boa was an extension of Aunt Barbara. It made Anna sick, everywhere. Anna didn’t get any birthday cake that day¾sent to bed with a hot water bottle whilst her friends ate her cake and played with her presents downstairs. It was a birthday she wished she could forget.

Outside, a teacher stood on the periphery to the excitement bubbling in the playground. A tin whistle hung around his neck, and his hand clutched a coffee flask bearing the initials M.B. in black marker pen. He had been frozen in the same position for the ten minutes it had been raining blue feathers. He felt a sharp jab in his back, and turned around to find Stacey Lane, teacher of class 4A, trying to get his attention.

    “You did a science degree, yes? Surely you have some explanation for this up your sleeve?”

    Mark Brown raised his eyebrows.

    “I did a degree in sports science…This really isn’t the sort of thing I could explain.”

    “Oh right.”

    Silence echoed between them, as they stood stunned while the feathers continued to cascade to the ground.

    “Well I’m glad I’m not on playground duty. It’s going to be a nightmare getting these back in whilst this is going on…worse than snow.”

    “I don’t think there is any point trying to get them inside,” Mark whispered under his breath.

A rational man, he had never been superstitious and ridiculed those that believed in religion, an aspect of his personality which often got him into trouble with parents and other members of staff. However, the first thing that sprang to his mind when he saw the first blue feathers fall to the ground was that this was the beginning of the Apocalypse. For the first time in his life he muttered a brief prayer, asking for the protection of his friends and family.

    “Hey Stacey, do you think…?” Mark began, but noticed she had disappeared. It’s begun already, he thought.

    Two roads away from the school a couple were walking hand in hand, ploughing through the feathers, leaving tracks on the pavement behind them.

    The woman stopped and clutched her stomach, “I don’t think I have laughed this much in ages.”

    “Yeah,” her boyfriend agreed, “This truly is the most bizarre day of my life.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him, brushing the feathers off her hair and shoulders. She looked so beautiful at that moment, with the sea of feathers building up, making her blue eyes glow. He squeezed her hand and they carried on walking.

    “Beryl, you’ll marry me, right?”

    “What! …I thought you told me you were the kind of man who would never marry, you said you didn’t believe in that sort of thing.”

    He shrugged his shoulders, “Well now I want to marry you.”

    “Ok then,” she grinned, “Yes, I will marry you.”

    “Yes!” he released in exaltation, and grabbing her hand they ran through the feathers, with the adrenaline rush of people who believed they had just done something out of the ordinary. As they reached a local primary school Beryl stopped running, out of breath.

    “Hey look, what’s happening over there?” she pointed across the road at one of the school buildings facing the main road.

    “What?” he hadn’t noticed the man up ahead, too rapt in her.

    He glanced over to see a man standing on the edge of the building, flinching whenever a feather came into contact with his skin. Opposite him, a little girl was stood on the pavement, blue feathers building up, reaching almost to her waist.

    “I’m scared of the feathers too!” she kept saying, “Please come down, it’s ok to be afraid.”

    “Oh my god, he is going to jump,” he realized. “I’d better go and do something.”

    “I’ll wait here and phone the police,” Beryl said. 

The man stood tottering on the rim of the building; he looked as if the cobalt feathers falling around him could make him suddenly fall.

    “Hey! listen to the little girl, your life is worth more than this,” he yelled up towards the man.

    “Leave me alone.”

    “Please think about it. Look, what is your name?”

    “It’s Mark. Mark Brown,” he murmured, “What’s yours?”

    “Well, what do you know, my name is Mark as well. Mark Franklin. Don’t you think that must be some sort of sign?”

    There was no reply. Only the sound of the constant pad of feathers spiraling towards the ground.    The girl looked as if she could swim through the feathers now. Mark Franklin turned towards her.           

    “And what’s your name, little girl?”

    “Anna.” He told her to go back into school and get somebody’s attention. She shouldn’t be witnessing things like this.

    “No, not the school¾I work there!” Mark Brown exclaimed. He took a deep breath and stepped off the building.

Across the street Beryl saw what the man had decided to do. Heart fluttering, she left her position and ran into the road. A car coming from around the corner slammed into her and killed her instantly. Mark Brown landed on the ground. He opened his eyes - he was still alive; the feathers broke his fall and saved him.

    “Oh my god,” the driver said, as she ran across to Beryl’s still body, “The feathers…I couldn’t see properly.”

    Anna came out of the school gates accompanied by her teacher, Miss Lane.

    “Mark, what the hell are you doing?” she said, baffled, staring at him lying on the floor gasping for breath.

    Then she saw the scene unfolding in the middle of the street. Mark Franklin kneeled next to Beryl’s body. Why had the feathers saved that guy, but not his Beryl? Her blood was seeping into the feathers, darkening them to purple. He couldn’t help thinking how beautiful she looked, even in death. He leant forward and kissed her cold lips. The sky turned clear as it stopped raining blue feathers.

Alexandra Rucki