The noise started as a low rumble located far away.
He turned in a circle. Fields and woods lay undisturbed in all directions; yet, it persisted. From a low rumble it became louder; incoherent, impossible to identify.
Birds escaped the shadowed woods. Black dots dovetailed away, upset by the oncoming tsunami of sound. Grasses hesitantly quivered; the ground vibrated with urgency.
From all directions they flooded.
From everywhere.
Hundreds and thousands of people, all streaming towards him. The chatter was unbearable. Drowning.
Stopping, enclosing him in a circle; the noise finally ceased.
Silence.
Then.
Raucous singing:
‘Happy Birthday To You…‘
©DJA 2016
From the Compendium of One Hundred Word Stories
The Angry Farmer 