Never Heard

One

Life in the countryside was something one would consider peaceful, why wouldn't it be. Living in a small village there is very little to venture into. It was so quiet, so clean, so worry free, so alone. You think it is at least as you look down and the cross to you see your flowers before. A few white Anemone flowers scattered on the loose soil, beneath where the wood cross stood, crooked, splinter coming off the sides, chipped at and growing grass at the base. You lower your head , say a quick prayer, then turn on your heels and walk off to exit the cemetery. You didnt talk to your parents much growing up so there was no need to know.

"You are neither to be seen nor heard," Mother said.

Down the dusty lane you walk until you reach the cottage you had called home for so long. You unhook your gate and walk along the path that leads to the front door 0of the cottage. Besides it grows the same Anemone flowers and beyond the vegetables you grow and sell at the local market that would happen in the mornings. You graze your eyes over your small garden and notice the planets are flourishing as they should this time of year think nothing more of it. Maybe you would have a cream soup with the bounty of veggies and the cream you had made a few nights before.

Maybe eat it before it spoils.

Just as you thought that and when reaching your door, the sound of a voice called out to, nearly like one out of a dream. You draw your hand away from the door knob and look back to see Mrs Sour out beside your gate, a heavy looking hen at her hip and smile on her face. "Hey there sweetie, back so soon from the graves." she asked, not rudely more to check on you, to see if it still hurt. Did it ever. "Ah yes ma'am, just got back now. It's nice to go visit them once in a while." you try to voice loud to span over the garden and so the old ladies ears can hear you.

"Good, good my baby. Anyway I got you this hen, she is quite the meaty one" she giggles as she rocks the chicken in her arms much to its dissatisfaction. "I bought her for you. She can give you some eggs or meat. What you do with it is up to you baby." She says and you decide to approach, walking down the path with a smile and a nod of appreciation to collect the hen, it struggles a bit in your hold but clams after a while. " Thank ma'am. Maybe I shall keep her. What do you call her?" you wonder and the old lady just smiles as he looks up at you. " Her name is Dippitys, but keeping her will do you no good but bring trouble." you wonder how so but before the thought leaves you she begins to speak.

"Well for one you have a yard of veggies, she will ruin and then where will I get my pumpkin." She jokes and you both laugh a little but that warmth of laughter is replaced by something a little sad, maybe sinister. "You see, there have been some critters eating my little hens. But only when they have surpassed a certain amount. So I recently got a new rooster and had to get rid of a hen so I didn't wake up to feathers in my garden." The wind blows and it's cold. Mrs Sour closes the gate and is off down to her farm about 500m off.

You take the hen, cut off her neck, wash her body and feed on her thighs and legs that evening.