The Feathermark Society

The Feathermark Society

Hoer Verde, Brazil, was like a ghost town. The streets were silent, because nearly all the people had fled in terror. Only the brave of heart and foolish were left behind, and even they only ventured out if there was a good reason.

A good reason came on April 28, 1923, with the arrival of Miss Elsie Stokes, a young woman from the States. She came walking into town in the warmth of late afternoon, holding a large suitcase in one hand and hefting her dark skirt high with the other.

It wasn’t long before Elsie noticed the light patter of feet behind her. The sound echoed like gunshots in the eerily deserted streets. She turned purposefully around in time to see a middle-aged gentleman try to dart out of sight behind a decrepit wagon.

“Who’s there?” she asked loudly. There was a slight flash of cream-colored cloth behind the wagon, but no one appeared. “If you don’t come out this instant, I will personally come and drag you out at umbrella-point,” Elsie said bravely. She was not a rude person by nature, but she had not expected Hoer Verde to be so utterly void of life, and as the only person she had seen seemed to be intent on keeping out of sight, she wasn’t sure if they meant harm to her.

Elsie positioned her parasol in front of her and strode forward. But before she had taken three steps, the man rose sheepishly from his spot and gazed at her warily through bright grey eyes.

“Why were you spying on me?” Elsie demanded in Portuguese. She was a remarkably pretty girl, with dark brown hair and dreamy green eyes. The strange man noticed this right away but respectfully kept his thoughts to himself and instead commented on the first thing that came into his head. “The hotel is that way, if you’re here for a visit. Course’, seeing as the family who ran it has been gone for two months now, you might not be in luck.” Then he blushed.

Elsie noticed this and had mercy on him. He wasn’t a bad looking man, with his jet-black waves and those probing eyes.

“I haven’t come for a visit,” she responded in a more friendly tone. “I have come here to live. I’m a missionary!

“A what now?” Black-beard asked blankly.

“A missionary. I’ve come to minister to the people of Hoer Verde. Are you a Christian, Mr.….” Elsie trailed off as she realized that the subject of her little message hadn’t mentioned his name.

“Carlos. Just Carlos, no Mister about it.” Carlos then seemed to register what she’d said before. He skipped her question easily and asked one of his own: “You’ve come here to live, you say? You’re either mighty brave or mighty foolish to come to this god-forsaken place with no one to protect you.” He was honestly worried about this interesting woman’s welfare. It was a new feeling, as he couldn’t remember having ever been worried about anyone but himself before now. But Elsie took his well-meaning comment the wrong way.

She narrowed her eyes at him and said stiffly, “My brother, the Reverend John Stokes, is to arrive in two weeks. I offered to come ahead to prepare the hearts of the people for his message.” She seemed to imply that he could benefit from the preacher’s words. Then as an after-thought she added, “As you’re the only person I’ve seen during my time in this town, would you be so kind as to direct me to the parsonage? I seem to be a bit lost.”

Carlos gladly took the suitcase she offered and fell into step beside her, one hand on her elbow to guide her. As they walked, he thought about what she’d said. He wasn’t too big on the idea of a Bible-pounder coming to his town. But if a preacher was the price to pay for the angel walking at his side, Carlos was willing to come to every sermon.

“My name is Elsie Stokes,” the lovely young woman said out of the blue.

“I’m right tickled to meet you,” Carlos said, drawing on the ridiculous etiquette his sister Maria had tried to teach him before leaving town awhile back. Then he worried that he had somehow gotten the words mixed up. He’d never had much of a reason to talk to womenfolk.

But Elsie gave a tinkly laugh in gracious acknowledgment before asking the question he’d hoped to avoid. “Mr.- uh, Carlos, you mentioned back there that the people running the inn left town recently. Why is that?”

“Waaall…” Carlos didn’t want to lie to her. Elsie had a sort of air about her that made him want to tell her everything he’d ever done, down to accidentally setting a lady’s feather hat on fire at the last Founder’s Day. Carlos found himself telling her the truth.

“It’s all on account of something that happened a bit over two months ago. It scared folks around here so much that nearly everybody in town packed up and hightailed it out of here, including my family.” Here Carlos paused, wondering if that would be enough to satisfy Elsie. It wasn’t.

Elsie paused at a wooden bench in front of a long-deserted mercantile and sat smoothly down among rustling skirts.

“Yes,” she began, “I did notice that there seems to be a shortage of people around here. But I didn’t stop to think why. Suppose you tell me?”

Carlos reluctantly seated himself beside her, carefully avoiding sitting on her dress.

“Well, it all started about thirty years ago, when I was just a little boy. My father used to take me on his knee and tell me stories about the Feathermark Society, a group made up of the scariest men and women you’ll see anywhere. It was all crackly-voiced old ladies and men that would strike fear into anybody’s heart.” Carlos shifted in his seat and gazed into the distance, switching smoothly into storyteller mode. Elsie cocked her head in interest.

“Anyway,” Carlos went on, “My father would always tell me and my siblings to never associate with these people, ‘cause if you made them mad, they’d call down a curse from heaven on you. It’s happened, too. I seen it myself.” Carlos nodded his head in conviction even as Elsie shook hers.

“I don’t believe that human beings have such power to do such things. You must be mistaken,” she said firmly and began to get up. Carlos lightly took hold of her arm to prevent her from leaving.

“Just wait, Miss Elsie. Let me finish the story.” Elsie sighed through her nose and sat back down. Carlos released her and continued, “I remember the last time a preacher came to town, around five years ago. A Mr. Charles Minton, if my memory serves me correctly.”

“Yes. I remember hearing about him,” Elsie said in surprise. “He disappeared from his house mysteriously one night and was never seen again.”

“That’s only part of the story. The very day he vanished he had been preaching a sermon on false teachers and people claiming to have a higher authority than God. Then he started in on the Feathermark Society, calling them hypocrites and saying that God would punish them for their misdeeds. Nearly everyone in town heard it, including myself. That same day, Reverend Minton disappeared, and no trace of him was ever found. Except for one thing.” Carlos stopped.

“What?” Elsie asked in a breathy voice.

“A piece of paper bearing the symbol of the Society—an eagle clutching a lightning bolt. It was right on his kitchen table for everybody to see. So, of course, everyone assumed that the Feathermark Society had come and taken him away. Nobody knows where.”

“What a ghastly story,” Elsie said dazedly, standing up from her bench.

“Nonetheless, it’s true, Miss Stokes.” Carlos began to walk in the direction of the parsonage again, and Elsie had no choice but to follow him.

“But you still haven’t told me why all the people left town two months ago. Was it because of the Society?” Elsie asked, hurrying after him.

“It surely was. A massive dust storm sprang up out of nowhere during the Thanksgiving gathering at the church. Killed twenty-four people. But the crazy thing about it is that once the storm was over, the Feathermark Society was nowhere to be found. It was like all those people had vanished into thin air. Everyone was relieved—at first.”

“What happened?”

“The very next day a schoolteacher found the words “There is no salvation” on her chalkboard. It was signed with an eagle holding a lightning bolt, the Society’s emblem. Everybody thought the Society brought on the storm to punish them for stepping foot inside a church, and it was enough to make most people up and leave.” Carlos looked at her.

“I’m sure most of that is just superstition. Noone can call up a dust storm but God himself. And He most certainly was not punishing you. There’s a reasonable explanation for all of this… Why are you stopping?”

“We’re here,” Carlos stated simply.

Elsie gazed up at a large red-brick house with a small front lawn and white picket fence.

“It’s lovely!” Elsie quickly found the key under the door mat, where Carlos directed her, and they stepped inside. Elsie noticed that it was tastefully decorated with nice furniture, but Carlos seemed unimpressed.

Elsie spent the rest of the day cleaning and inadvertently thinking about Carlos’ story. It couldn’t be true—could it?

Carlos, with whom she had formed an easy friendship, stayed to help and went home at dusk. Elsie was shocked to discover that he lived right next door in a small white cottage.

This served to be a good thing, as Elsie could call on him for help anytime she needed it, which she did several times over the next two weeks.

They even developed a morning routine: Carlos would come over early each morning and have coffee on the porch with Elsie, and he would come back in the evening for dinner.

It was during one of these morning conversations with Carlos that Elsie discovered why she was being greeted with such stiffness within the small community.

“Well, it’s because the last time a preacher came to town, all those terrible things happened. Folks are scared it’ll happen again.” Carlos answered uncomfortably when asked.

“Surely not!” Elsie said in surprise. “The Feathermark Society is long gone—do people still fear them?”

“That’s just it, Elsie. We don’t know exactly where the Society has gone. People are afraid they’re watching us, waiting to strike again.”

“Fiddlesticks!” Elsie scoffed, but she couldn’t help but worry about the greeting her brother would receive when he arrived.

Two nights before her brother was set to come, Elsie was sitting in her living room reading a novel she had brought in her suitcase. She was just getting to the good part when a loud knock sounded on her heavy oak door.

Elsie peeled herself off the couch, and realizing how dark it had gotten while she was reading, flicked on the lamp by the couch.

She crossed to the door and opened it. Nobody was there. Elsie stepped onto her porch, and wrapping her robe around her, peered into the dark.

“Hello? Is anybody there?” Elsie frowned and turned on her heel to go back inside. Her toe brushed against an object tucked under the door mat. Elsie picked it up and saw that it was a letter. That’s odd, she thought. Why would anybody be sending me a letter? Hardly anybody here knows me…

Elsie went back inside and shut the door against the creeping chill in the air. She went directly to the kitchen table, where the overhead light was the brightest. And then she opened the letter.

Inside the blank envelope was one sheet of white paper. Elsie tilted it upward so she could see it better.

“Don’t touch the bell at dusk. They would be back.” Beneath the carelessly scrawled words was a drawing. Elsie drew in her breath in horror and dropped the paper as if it was a hot coal. An eagle clutching a lightning bolt stared back at her.

Elsie didn’t get any sleep that night. She paced frantically about her house, overcome with dismay at the thought of the Feathermark Society knowing where she lived.

Maybe there is “something” to Carlos’ crazy tale. I said I didn’t believe it, but… she was overwhelmed by her thoughts.

Finally, as the dawn broke over the rooftops of houses and roosters began to crow, Elsie came to a decision. She went to see Carlos.

“A bell?” Carlos asked in confusion when she asked him if there was a community bell located in town. They were sitting on Elsie’s porch, he drinking coffee and she trying to act normal.

“Yes,” she answered with a calm she didn’t feel. What if the Society was watching her this very minute?

“Well, now, there is the bell hanging across the schoolhouse door, but no one ever touches it. We’re all afraid to.”

“Why?”

“Because the Feathermark Society hanged it there. Anything that has to do with that group of people gets treated like the plague around here.”

“Of course.” Elsie managed to get through the rest of the morning and send Carlos off without him becoming suspicious. She had come up with a plan. Now all she had to do was wait for dusk.

Elsie left her house that evening an hour before Carlos was to come over for dinner, just as the first fingers of night began to streak across the sky. She made her way toward the small schoolhouse, ignoring the curious faces that peered out at her from behind closed windows and screened-in doors.

When she got there, she just stood looking at the large bronze bell that hanged over the wooden double doors like a warning. She climbed the rickety white steps and placed her fingers on the frayed rope connected to the bell. Electricity seemed to course through her body as she reconsidered her decision.

What will happen if I pull the rope? Maybe nothing. But I might be making a huge mistake…

Before Elsie could talk herself out of it, she did something that may or may not have been a mistake.

She pulled the rope.