What You Never Saw Coming: A.K.A The Semi-Random Chicken Report - Anna

To Start off the Epic adventures of flying pigs . . .

INTRODUCING . . . drum roll please . . .

What You Never Saw Coming:  A.K.A. the Semi Random Chicken Report 

By:  J. Annaliese Hawkins

Illustrated by: Joey Langford

Based on a true story (based is the key word here)

        It was a sunny Thursday afternoon, and we were all waiting for the minutes to tick by to leave for Grandma and Grandpa Hawkins house for our annual Thanksgiving dinner.  All of the sudden, out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of white, a streak of fur, and heard a squawk. I was only partially aware of what I just saw and heard.  I heard another squawk, but this time it registered. Jumping up and out of the kitchen chair, I sprinted to the chicken coop with my sister on my tail.  As we reached the bottom of the giant hill, we understood what those flashes of color were: dogs. Big hunting dogs out for our chickens, killing them one by one. It was almost like watching flies go down, but there was no time to watch. Alyx and I quickly moved into action, chasing the dogs out and away from the large chicken coop as they continued to scurry through the small hole in the gate.  

As I scrambled to latch the door, coop now dog free, Alyx stood in silent mourning. I followed her gaze and then I saw it.  Lying just feet away, there was a chicken laying motionless, obviously dead. It was an old chicken, one we didn’t like much, but it was still family. When Alyx escaped her trance to close the other door, she stopped once more. This time I didn’t need to follow her gaze to understand what happened, the feathers scattered about said plenty. Another chicken, Cinnamon was the name.  She came from one of our newer batches of chicks. A dog bark and I knew we weren’t done.

At this point, dad had made his way down the hill to help.  I was put in charge 

of the dog with a collar, while Dad and Alyx chased the other two dogs all the way up and down the rolling hills that made up the back pastor.  They eventually chased them down the hill towards the shop where we regrouped.  Dad dragged the aggressive dogs across the deserted street to the neighbors house. 

When somebody came out to get the dogs, Alyx and I headed up the steep 

hill accompanied by the deafening silence of deep heartache.  When we reached the top of the mini mountain, mom was there waiting for us with her arms wide open, full of compassion and love.  Mom said that Elle, the heartless creature, had stormed in saying, “They're all dead.  Can we eat now?”  

Later after some music and jokes, with our spirits much higher than they had 

been, dad came in with news. Not good news, but definitely not bad news, almost melancholy. He said there were two injured birds, but no more dead ones. Dad had other news, but are immaterial and unnecessary, almost superfluous to the story.  In the end we finally got to grandma and grandpa Hawkins house for thanksgiving dinner two hours later than planned.

The end.

I hear the flying pigs come for sure next Tuesday.