Two Chicken Stories

 Good morning, FFFs,

This has been a very busy writing week for me. Since I'm trying to write the 4th of July story for "A Very Bookish 4th of July" and still work on "Phil Wood", I've been writing 2k words or more a day this week. I try to get 1k on "Phil Wood" written in the morning or afternoon, then switch to "the 4th" in the later afternoon and after supper. This means I've already written 9k words this week! Since I normally write between 5-6k words a week with an occasional week where I get 8-9k, this is rather astonishing. But I'm really enjoying getting so much written.

I also started teaching writing classes again this week. Yesterday was my first classes. I had 5 students in one class and they were all new, which was rather fun. Then in the afternoon I had two older girls and we did a creative writing class. They are both going to write a short story. Both classes went well and were a lot of fun.

And guess what? Registration for KDWC is now open. We already have 40 campers signed up. The gates for camp open on the 25th, but camp itself doesn't start until the 1st. This will be a month long camp. If you're a writer and have never joined camp, maybe you should consider coming this time and seeing what it's like.

 Today I have two short stories for you. Since I'm celebrating the 10 year birthday of my first book, I thought I'd share two short stories from it with you today. These are both based on real events.

 

This first story is true. It was told to me by a friend. I only changed the names, time in history and place so as to fit in my book: Home Fires of the Great War

Time: April 1919. The Great War was over but many of the soldiers had yet to come home including the father of this family.

Place: A farm near Codell, Kansas

Family Info: The one telling the story is 17-year-old Emma. Her twin brother is Edmund. Emma is writing a letter to her cousin, Maria, who lives in Nova Scotia, Canada.

Nighty, the Rooster

         Oh, I must tell you about Evie. It would have been laughable if it were not so pitiable. We have, or rather did have, a black rooster whose name was Nighty. I believe Georgie named him, not that it matters. Nighty was mean. His favorite past time seemed to be terrorizing any person, with a few exceptions, who was outside. For some reason he never chased David, Edmund or Karl. Any of the rest of us were fair game as far as he was concerned. He was treacherous. If you turned squarely around on him and started walking toward him, he would turn tail and leave, but the moment your back was turned, he would be running straight for you. It got so bad that the younger ones wouldn’t go outside without one of the older boys. That rooster was the only one Kirsten couldn’t tame. Evie loves to be outside, but was terrified of Nighty. She would run screaming to the house or to the nearest person if he so much as looked at her. Finally Edmund had enough of it. One day he caught Nighty, who had just chased Evie inside, grabbed his legs and snapped his head against a fence post before tossing him behind the barn.

         When Evie heard the news she ran outside at once and shouted, “Nighty’s dead! Nighty’s dead!”

         Kirsten and Rosalie were much quieter upon hearing the news but also took immediate advantage and spent the rest of the day playing happily outside.

         A day or two later, Evie was outside playing and singing, “Nighty’s dead! Nighty’s dead!” I was in the kitchen with the older boys when a sudden, shrill, terrified scream came from outside! The boys sprang to their feet in an instant, knocking over their chairs as they did so.

         “Nighty’s comin’ af’er me!” Evie’s holler sent us all into action. At once we rushed for the door. Edmund was first. Leaping off the porch he sprinted across the yard and scooped up Evie in his arms. I stared from the safety of the porch. There indeed was Nighty. His head was hanging down at a grotesque angle from a broken neck, and he was staggering straight for Edmund.

         “That beast!” Edmund exclaimed. “Here, David, take Evie, and I’ll deal with him.” That was easier said than done, for Evie refused to let go of Edmund. Try as they might, they couldn’t get Evie to leave Edmund. Meanwhile the rooster was coming closer and closer. Evie’s screams again rent the air, and Edmund gave up to the inevitable and said, “One of you can do it, and make a good job of it!”

         David caught the luckless rooster and Karl grabbed a hatchet. In another minute, the rooster was without his head. Unlike the other butchering of chickens they do, the boys didn’t let go of this one for some minutes after his head was off. If you don’t know chickens, they run around like crazy for a little bit after their heads have been chopped off. Nighty would most certainly have headed straight for Edmund and Evie.

         Evie was still clinging in terror to Edmund’s neck and crying, saying over and over, “Nighty’s af’er me! He is!”

         “No, Evie,” Edmund soothed. “David has him, and Karl is chopping off his head. He won’t be after you any more.”

         “But he comes back!” Her face was buried against his neck while her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. She was shaking and trembling.

         Mama and I hurried over, but even with our combined effort, it made no difference. Edmund was the only one she wanted then, and it took nearly a quarter of an hour for him to just get her calmed down enough to raise her head.

         He took her to see that Nighty was really dead, and then they watched as he was buried. Still, it was almost a full hour later before Evie would let go of Edmund’s neck. She refused to go outside alone for two days after that, and will never go anywhere near where Nighty is buried, probably fearing that he will somehow come out of the ground and chase her. She has regained most of her courage by now, though she still looks warily at the barn when she passes it. The other way she was affected is that she dislikes any and all chickens. No longer will she go with Kirsten to feed and gather the eggs. She wants nothing to do with them. I can’t say that I blame her, can you?

 

In the Nests

    It was a lovely spring morning on the farm. The older boys and Papa were out in the barn milking the cows. Emma had gone out to gather the eggs as Kirsten, who usually gathered them, was sick in bed. Emma enjoyed gathering eggs especially on such a pretty morning. Everything was still waking up, the grass was damp with the night’s dew, and a meadowlark sang loudly on a nearby fence rail. Emma’s thoughts were not on the eggs she was placing in her basket. A breeze tossed her dark hair and whipped her dress around her ankles. It was a perfect day.
    Emma had gathered almost a dozen eggs, when reaching into the next nest she felt something move! She let out a shriek and almost dropped her basket. Staring at the nest in horror she thought, “What have I just touched?” She didn’t dare put her hand in the nest again. On seeing a slight movement among the straw, she screamed once more just as Edmund, David, Karl and Papa arrived.
    “What happened?” they demanded a little breathlessly.
    “Something moved in that nest,” Emma shuddered, pointing with a trembling hand to the straw which was still moving slightly. David reached boldly in and dragged out a large black snake! Stifling another cry that rose to her lips, Emma looked away. How the boys laughed!
    “Emma,” Edmund laughed at his twin. “It was just a nice little black snake.”
    “I don’t care, he scared me!” Emma had a dread of snakes which her brothers thought ridiculous. “I don’t think I dare gather any more eggs.”
    After a little more teasing from the three boys and even some from Papa, Edmund stayed to help her. He put his hand into the next nest and exclaimed, “Oh!” in a startled voice.
    Emma gave a stifled squeal.
    “Oh, it was only an egg,” Edmund said with a teasing little grin.
    “You!” Emma exclaimed and gave him a slight push.
    When there were only three nests left, Edmund tried coaxing his twin to get the eggs again. Emma shivered and shook her head.
    “Look,” he reasoned reaching confidently into another nest, “there aren’t any more snakes.”
    Only two lone nests remained unchecked. “Come on, Emma,” he urged. “I’ll get these, and you gather from that last one.”
    Slowly, with great reluctance, Emma reached into the last nest. Immediately, she let out a piercing scream and jumped back in terror! There was another snake! Edmund doubled over with laughter, but Emma shrieked again as the snake poked his head out, his small red tongue flicking in and out and his black beady eyes gleaming. Edmund was of no help, for he was bent double with laughter while tears ran down his cheeks from his merriment. As the snake began to wriggle out of the nest, Emma’s scream rose in a crescendo louder, and she whirled around to run to the house. As she turned, she bumped into Karl.
    “Karl!” Emma implored clutching his arm frantically, “Do something!”
    For a moment, he looked at her, the snake, and Edmund. Striding over, he caught the snake, which really wasn’t very big, and without a moment’s hesitation dropped it down the back of Edmund’s shirt! The sight of his face made Emma stand still for a minute and watch. Edmund’s laughter stopped suddenly as he felt the snake wriggling against his skin. One look at Karl and he burst into uncontrollable laughter once more. Shaking with mirth he untucked his shirt and let the snake fall to the ground. At that Karl joined in the laughter. So Emma left the two of them to their merriment and their snakes and went inside. “See if I ever gather eggs again!” she thought as the boys’ laughter still rang out from inside the safe, quiet kitchen.

Have you ever found a snake in something?

Do you like stories that are from real life?

Are you going to be a part of KDWC this time?