Fifty miles away from the closest small town, nestled between both mountain and Evergreens resides a small town made of red brick and alleyways. Bridges made of Oak and Ironwood connected the town of Summers to the long dirt roads out of town and into the mountain, the forest, the farms and the mines. Cool streams rich with ore that trickled out of the mountain provided easy money and panning experiences. Lore had it someone once panned a diamond and jade from the streams and rivers, but that was nearly a fairy tale.
This town of Summers was built on hardy tradition. The furs, feathers and scales gathered around every festival into the large Prairies and Groves a few miles past the farms to celebrate the Spring; throwing cherry petals and spring grass in the air as they danced and sang, sewn flowers into crowns for the girls and maidens, and even feasted on the fresh Spring harvest the Farmers tilled and Chefs cooked. During the Summer everyone gathered in the Prairie to hold the fair, bringing in crowds of 15,000 from all around the area. Everyone sold hand made items of clothing, foods, toys and furniture, as well as taking orders and commissions for oil painted canvases and carved beds from the tall evergreens.
During the Fall there was a feasting festival, made just to bring everyone together and present gifts of food to one another, then once the food was distributed they ate until bellies swelled and no one was able to move far without a buggy. And Finally, in the winter, at the end of the year, everyone took a week off. Furs and scales and feathers gathered to spots to relax in the snow, or play, or even sleep in. No one worked, no one worried. They brought in the year peacefully and then prepared for the spring festival.
Among the Prairies and Groves that surrounded Summers, there was the cities that surrounded them. Modern families were making thousands a month and lived in cramped rooms, bound by money and electronic devices. No one could leave civilization they had made. Computers were small enough to fit in pockets, singing can be stored on a device no bigger than a potato chip. Food made of chemicals more than actual food was sold in masses for too much, and the real food was too expensive for most.
The city was a shunned place in Summers. They resented the Holidays they made, they hated the crowd of kids who vacation in their town during the Summer, and they hated, most of all, the attitudes they gave to them.
They were offered to sell out their small town vibe to bring in a Walmart. They were told to "Get out of the year 1800" and that it is "20 K 16, man!". They were told to just abandon the country life and live in a city filled with pollution and technology.
But no matter how angry the town got as a whole, there was still a residing fact about Summers: They were proud. They were proud Furs, Scales and Feathers. They loved their neighbors, they loved their families, they loved their enemies.
But, During the Spring Festival, where everyone was crowded in the Prairies throwing grass and flowers, eating fresh fruits and vegetables, the world turned upside down.
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Max, a local farmer and avid tradition holder left with the crowd of residents and families to the town to close up the festival. Night had fallen and glowing bugs rose from their homes in the grass to the night sky, bringing the stars that shone in the sky down to the noses of the small kids and laid lazily among the withered and ancient grandmothers and grandfathers. When the mass of animals made it onto the red brick roads and sidewalks they were faced with people they have long since forgotten.
Generations of families who were once sealed in wood coffins arose from the graveyards once again. The hearts of those who saw their friends and family of old rise again would have been pleasent, if not for the fact they were still rotten and had an intent to kill. There was a standoff between the living and dead. No one moved, no one breathed. Half of the furs there had hearts screaming and digging its way out of their rib cages, the other half watched silently, jaws slack, eyes dilated and unfocused.
The silence grew thick and the stench of the dead families choked everyone, and all in one second, they attacked.
One girl broke the silence and screamed, bringing in the attention of every zombie within earshot and summoning them with her high pitched wail of fear.
Max grabbed the nearest item to him, a resting sickle a farmer had left behind, and held it up, snapping his head to his good friend that stood beside him. The zombies had risen, and the close knit community was instantly thrown in uncertainty.
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(Please pm me for my Skype so we can continue this RP if you are interested! Willing to do this as a group or a 1 on 1, but it must be in Skype. Replies can be any length (one line to one novella in length). I just like to type the intros. There is an ending for this that is roughly planned out. Willing to negotiate the story to better fit the RP. Just so it is known, I do draw scenes and characters from the RP I do, so I might end up drawing your fursona or a scene from the RP.)
Topic: The Prairies and Groves (Read 902 times)