Pink Moon

A pink moon hung in the sky when Mr Key came out to meet the night.  He took a deep breath and took slow, winding steps around the back yard.  The night was quiet, the whole village was quiet.  Mr Key stopped and silently shivered to himself in his short shirt sleeves.  The village always seemed quiet at night, quiet and grey.  He wandered around in circles like a caged animal, thinking to himself.

The back yard was empty but for his rock and a home made tree.  It had sprung up one empty Sunday afternoon when Mr Felder had decided that the yard needed a little sprucing up.  Lacking the patience needed to allow a tree to grow, Mr Felder instead set about building one from the materials readily available to him.  He spent the first hour lugging any spare old furniture down from the loft and then set about disassembling the cupboards, tables and chairs assembled on the floor.  The larger parts were planted as a trunk and then branches were added, then twigs.  After two hours of nailing and gluing bits together Mr Felder needed a step ladder to reach the top.  Mr Key had begun to feel that this was a silly project, but when Mary Jane and Jacomo came round to visit they were amazed and impressed and he knew it had been a good plan.  Mr Felder looked pleased with the effect.  The kids were set to work making paper leaves to pin on.  It was the children that kept life interesting.  The shop was so quiet and dull without them and they made the day hectic.  Closing his eyes he could see their faces and thought it such a shame that they would become as old as he was.

If only you could stop a clock from ticking every second and only choose the ones that counted.

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