Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24946232-20140628144014

I'm 13 years old now but I was 7 years young when it happened. Every night i wake up in a sticky sweat thinking about the chicken.

My Mum's friend from pilates went on holiday to the Vatican City so she asked my mum to care for her flock of chickens while she was away. We set up a coop outside for the hens. I was very excited for the arrival of the birds; so blissfully unaware of the terror in store for me.

On the morning, following the first night of our guest's stay, we awoke to a coop empty all but for one single hen. My Mum called her pilates friend later that day telling the awful news of her chicken's mysterious dissaperance. They agreed that it must of been foxes, but that night I heard my parents talking downstairs: My dad was saying that it couldn't have been foxes as there was no blood, feathers or indications of a struggle. As

I heard these words I gazed out of my bedroom window to the garden below. From within the coop, I saw the lone chicken... it was dark; but it seemed like that bird was staring right at me. Staring right into my very soul...

For the next few days it seemed the chicken was very content. We realized, however, that the bird did not eat any of the feed we gave it. She spent most of her time standing in her coop gazing towards our house, As the week progressed I felt uneasy looking out my bedroom window.

I think it was on a Saturday, it was especially hot that night so I left my window open before slipping into bed. My Mum came and kissed me goodnight before turning out the light and submerging the room in darkness. As I began to drift to sleep; I was jerked awake by a sudden soft weight on my chest. I looked down and saw the shadowy bulbous outline of a hen. I closed my eyes in disbelief of the chicken being in my room. As I did this I felt a shift of weight on my chest. It became difficult to breath. All of the air was being pushed out of me. I opened my eyes again: the neat, small silouette of the chicken was gone, replaced by a form that filled my field of vision. In the murky darkness I could make out a wrinkley, pale and spindlely torso. My whole body tensed with fear.

I can't remember what happened next. In my memory all I have is a vague "fade to black". All I remember is waking up the next morning. The next day I just convinced myself that what had happened the night before was a dream. A bad dream.

That day my aunt, uncle and older cousin came over for sunday roast. We ate outside, not taking the chickens feelings in to consideration as we tucked into one of it's avian fellows. whilst we were eating, my cousin was staring at the chicken in the coop. She said how human it's eyes were.

That night, even though it was very warm, I shut my window. As I did this I couldnt help but look at the chicken staring up at me as usual. I hastily closed the curtains. As I walked away from the window I felt silly for being so scared: it was just a hen. I turned around and put my hand back onto the curtain. I pulled it open slightly to take a second peek down at the coop...

There, crouched down behind the chicken wire, was a nude human form. His skin sagged from his skeletal frame and seemed lumenscent in the gloom. His face was blank and his eyes were like two black holes underneith a crazed tangle of white whisps of hair. He stared up at me from his haunched position.

I turned around and ran downstairs, desperately calling for my parents. They looked from the kitchen window and called me over. When I looked out, there stood the chicken. No old man in sight. My parents looked concerned but assured me that my eyes must have played tricks on me in the dark. They put me into bed and I asked my mum to close the curtain for me. I was too terrified to go anywhere near the window.

The next day my mum told me that her freind was coming back later that day to collect the single chicken. I was really happy that the day had finally come to say goodbye.

She arrived and we took her outside. She looked confused when she saw the bird. She said that she couldnt remember one of her chickens being that small. She shrugged it off and took the hen and placed it into a cat carrier to take it home. She put it in the back seat of her car while thanking us for looking after it. My parents apologized for the loss of the others, but she said it was fine.

As she drove away we waved her off. Then I saw him. He was turned around in the back seat. Staring at me as the car drove further away. He smiled a crooked smile; reveiling yellowed, cracked teeth.

I now know that mum's freind never made it home: She was involved in a fatal car accident that killed both her and another motorist. I don't know what happened to the chicken. It had been on my mind, but I never asked anyone.

I havn't had to think about all this for years now. But lately, for the last few weeks, when I walk (down the street or around the house) I can sometimes hear; a small tip tapping from behind me. I dare not turn around.

As I write this I can hear a rustling of feathers...  