The chicken has fallen into sickness.
It seems that when the body is ill, the mind becomes ill and everything else becomes ill. Every it was wrong. Downright wrong. Every little thing is in every little way against the chicken. There was a loneliness that the chicken could not hold in. The chicken wanted to scream out at creatures who could care, but apparently, there were none. The chicken was alone.
The chicken wondered why it was alone. It has long since forgotten about the certain mammal that caused its little chicken heart to tremble in fear. The certain mammal was now one of the others. Another creature that didn’t want a thing to do with the chicken. The feeling was mutual.
There was not a place the chicken could want to go. Everything is a burden, a chore. It wanted to stay in the coop, build a nest, lay some eggs, and do the usual things young chickens do. There wasn’t a single farm creature that the chicken wanted to associate with. This time too, the feeling was mutual.
The chicken roamed the sleepy halls of the farm, Clucking songs with its hoarse voice to itself, it’s only audience. It felt that it could become a bird of darkness, but somehow even the most evil people in movies had friends, support. The chicken had itself.
Perhaps one day, soon enough, the loneliness would drive the chicken hopping mad and the young flightless bird would be convinced it was a rabbit of some sort. At least then it could feel more free, more special. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad a transformation.
” i should not have expected anything” thought the chicken. It was the day before the festival of breaking out of the eggshell. That has been long gone and over, but the world has somehow made a celebration out of egg-breaking days. This was not so for the chicken apparently. No. And It was not in any case disappointed. Who is it kidding?
It expected nothing, as the chicken has promised itself. It has self proclaimed its lack of need for such a celebration. But there has to be a better way of acknowledgement. Any it would agree.
A change in the flow of the chicken’s life was evident. There was no more refusal to be a nugget. Only anticipation was left. Anticipation for a fast forward into the world of the nugget. leaving the farm wouldn’t be enough. Every creature in the world was the same. They wouldn’t care less about the chicken hearted.
From here on out, the chicken was on its own. Or rather, it always has been. It was gonna have to be the world’s toughest chicken. That’s the only way it was going to survive. And in order to do that, it’s gotta figure out what it means to be tough.
There are thoughtful days like these that you spend with your bestest friend (namely oneself) eating icecream and taking long winding trips together to and from your coop and the central farm… It’s these cheerful summer days that the chicken never understands…
The greatest joys comes with the summer rain that washes the sweat off the stale smelling poultry… The population of the central farm dwindled to a mere handful of familiar faces. All were greatly welcomed.
There was a jealousy in the chicken hearted. Jealousy of the fun between the creatures other than itself. “expect nothing. You may just be surprised.” The chicken lives by, or could only live by that. But perhaps it didn’t truly hope for nothing? Or rather, obviously it hoped for something. But what? What could the mere chicken expect of the world, now obsessed in the refreshment of the summer rain?
If the chicken were to disappear into the cheerful gloom, what was there to miss but a couple fewer nuggets for dinner? A depressing, self-pitying creature as such was rather much not welcomed. Not even by its bestest friend(namely itself). And tomorrow was yet another day to not look forward to.
I have brittle bones it seems I bite my tongue and I torch my dreams. I have a little voice to speak with , an a mind full of thoughts and secrecy . Things cannot be reversed. We learn from the times when we are cursed that things cannot be reversed, we learn from the ones we fear the worst and learn from the ones we hate the most.
There are times when he wishes he isn’t that much of strong or lucky… But then he realizes that even if he wasn’t he’d still be alone.
Every once in a while, one has to make a list of how much one is worth.. Perhaps though, this only pertains to some-it as caught up in constant paranoia as a chicken.
Back in the farm the chicken has been presented a list of absurd jobs:
For the most part, a chicken is an accessory. Thought there isn’t anything to the least bit aesthetically pleasing about carrying about a chicken. Perhaps it is the plain feathery nothingness of such a flightless bird that brings forth the light of any-it that stands close by.
Ahh perhaps the chicken is only an accessory and nothing more? A portable wall perhaps? To fill space? In any case, the feelings of a wall portable or not, are rather insignificant. Whether or not the wall decides to stay stationary or willingly roll along, it is none of anyone’s concern. And hence the chicken was downgraded to the inanimate.
The chicken soon realised that in the farm, though species were plentiful, there seemed to be only one of its kind. Not in a good way though. The chicken was in no way unique. It was a mix mash of the ultra-ordinary, stuck in its own policy of isolationism, cut off from the rest of the flock. The chicken could only dig itself a little coop and talk to the four other walls aside itself.
For matters of chicken attraction things are going smoothly… In terms of the low side that is. The chicken is stuck in a stagnant, far away distance. “smoothly” it is stuck ,stranded in the cold icy sea. Paranoia has long burnt into fear and the only possible resolving factor is ending everything to do with that certain mammal for good.
The chicken believes in living in the present. But with the present rejecting the chicken’s residence, the chicken can only settle in the past and look to the future, where the formation of a cold,empty nugget seems imminent.
I’m a very possessive person and I hate it…. Should stop being attached to anything? :x
It’s awful to be apart of the shojo manga as a side, unnecessary character, not part of the circle. Not ever part of the circle.