Description of a sinister street. . .
Created | Updated Jul 10, 2008
It is claimed by some, primarily the faint hearted, that Fletcher’s Pavement, which snakes its way toward the Great Abbey, is haunted, perhaps by the eponymous man himself. Whether folklore speaks the truth is unproven, however what is very clear to all who experience the street, whether during the day or at night is that if ghosts were to exist, by rights they should choose a place as perfect for the occasional haunting as Fletcher’s Pavement. The street, which is thwarted with grey-slated, twisty turreted houses, and lined with blind beggars, cawing out in their desperation, is not long, but to the boy whose mother meets him at the other end, the journey down it seems to take forever.
Although in the daytime, the street would be one not frequented by the young (for their imaginations all too easily get the better of them) and most certainly not the faint hearted for they would experience far too much for their delicate personalities to bear, at night time, Fletcher’s Pavement becomes the playground of warlocks and werewolves baying at the nocturnal proprietor of the sky, in all its milky glory. The pale disc gives a distinct shaft of light, just bright enough to illuminate the Abbey standing proud as though keeping watch over the way, but not quite bright enough for the weary traveller to see what is positioned beneath his feet, as though even the moon in her infinite glory would be wary of what she would find, should she look properly.
If a traveller, or anybody foolish enough to travel down Fletcher’s Pavement at night, were to take in their surroundings, they would be shocked, even amazed by the sheer number of cats which inhabit the way on a nightly basis. It is said by the people of the town that cats are attracted to the Pavement, just as a drunkard would be attracted to his public house. Whether this is because they can smell the loneliness emitted by the street, or whether (and this is the view favoured by the townspeople), Fletcher persists in welcoming them, in his eternal death, as in his lifetime, remains a mystery. However their constant howling lends a chill to the spine and a scream to the lips, and therefore, for obvious reasons, the street is not one to have been widely investigated at night.
Although in the daytime, the street would be one not frequented by the young (for their imaginations all too easily get the better of them) and most certainly not the faint hearted for they would experience far too much for their delicate personalities to bear, at night time, Fletcher’s Pavement becomes the playground of warlocks and werewolves baying at the nocturnal proprietor of the sky, in all its milky glory. The pale disc gives a distinct shaft of light, just bright enough to illuminate the Abbey standing proud as though keeping watch over the way, but not quite bright enough for the weary traveller to see what is positioned beneath his feet, as though even the moon in her infinite glory would be wary of what she would find, should she look properly.
If a traveller, or anybody foolish enough to travel down Fletcher’s Pavement at night, were to take in their surroundings, they would be shocked, even amazed by the sheer number of cats which inhabit the way on a nightly basis. It is said by the people of the town that cats are attracted to the Pavement, just as a drunkard would be attracted to his public house. Whether this is because they can smell the loneliness emitted by the street, or whether (and this is the view favoured by the townspeople), Fletcher persists in welcoming them, in his eternal death, as in his lifetime, remains a mystery. However their constant howling lends a chill to the spine and a scream to the lips, and therefore, for obvious reasons, the street is not one to have been widely investigated at night.
