A Chicken's Side to the Story
I went to sleep last night as myself. I wake up as something quite different. I have a beak. If I cross my eyes and look down, I can see it protruding out of my face where my nose and mouth should've been.
Are the remnants of Jimson weed in my body still playing with my mind?
I try to move my arms. There's a weird flapping sound, so I turn my head to look. What I see scares me so bad that I try to run from myself. This only ends in slamming into the bars of a cage. Panic washes over me. I'm in a cage... I have wings, feathers, and a beak. What happened? Why am I a bird?
Some shriveled old hag hobbles up to the cage and peers down at me with red eyes. She leans heavily on her cane and gives me a toothless grin. If I wasn't a chicken, I'd be shivering in abject horror right now.
I glare up at the woman in helpless fury, but she seems unaffected as she continues to smile and works her way over to a table.
My cage is on top of several others, so I can see everything on the table. A giant knife lies there, gleaming maliciously in the warm light of the candles. I wonder why she's using candles.
Stupid bird. I can't stay focused with it yammering on like it is. Being a chicken is very confusing. It's like having an identity crisis on a whole new level.
My eyes zero in on the steel butcher's knife, and I can't control the fear that overwhelms both the chicken and I. I've decided that the knife is a threat, and so has the chicken, apparently. So naturally, I start trying to escape the cage. I frantically slam against the bars of the door.
The old woman looks over at me, her craggy face amassing more wrinkles as she frowns. "Oh, stop that... I'm going to eat you anyway." Her creaky voice paralyzes me.
She's going to what? Horrified, I let out a timid cluck and move back towards the other side of the metal cage. I step in a pile of chicken poop on the way back, and realize that the bird has made a mess. This is wonderful. I mean, how could this day get better?
With another toothless grin, the hag turns back to her table and starts to hum a song. She goes about gathering spices and herbs for a while, just humming in that nasally way that makes you want to grit your teeth and scream. After she has everything she needs, she goes back to the table and starts chopping things up.
Her cracked voice begins to softly echo through the house as she starts singing. I don't like the words, either. Everything has to do with eating chickens and little children.
Little children? This is insane. If I'm not already on drugs, I need to be put on them, because this isn't normal. I'm pretty sure that the crazy asylum would gladly take me to keep me from being a danger to society.
The old witch's head pops up, and she sniffs the air. The image is disturbing. She hobbles off into the tiny parlor adjoining the dingy kitchen I'm in. Chickens must have good hearing because I can hear everything that's going on from here.
"Nibble, nibble, gnaw... Who is eating my house?" The old woman's shrill voice startles whoever she's talking to.
Eating her house? This doesn't look like an edible, life size house to me. Also, I'm fairly sure that brick and mortar don't taste very good. However, the chicken's so mindless with terror that nothing is registering with its brain.
There's a gasp, and then a girl's voice answers, "The wind, the wind — the heaven born wind."
That is officially the weirdest answer ever. It makes perfect sense, right? Wind would definitely talk and eat her house. If I could roll my eyes, I would.
I crowd towards the door of the cage, trying to get a good look. Her parlor opens directly into this area and another room, which looks sort of like a living room from what I can see. The witch shuffles to the brown door and flings it open.
Two children stand in front of the door. The witch moves to the side, and I see them drop something. It looks like gingerbread and marzipan to me. Maybe I'm hallucinating about Hansel and Gretel. My brain comes up with the weirdest things.
I'm going to need therapy if I survive this. Not just this dream, but the whole blasted game. I wonder if they'll provide the victor with a psychiatrist. On second thought, maybe I'll be okay mentally. I'll figure myself out. Eventually.
"Oh, you dear children!" The woman claps her hands together in delight. "Who brought you here? Come in, and stay with me. It's not safe out there, but I'll take care of you." Her voice is like thick maple syrup, oozing with chocolate covered lies and deception.
I try to snort, but all that comes out is an indignant squawk. This woman wants to eat them, and she says she'll take care of them? I guess she will, but not in a good way.
What sort of idiot trusts a woman with a gingerbread and marzipan house? Kids, I suppose. Didn't their parents tell them not to trust strangers offering candy? Probably not. They flounce into the house with huge smiles and thank the hag.
The woman sits them down at a cute pink and white table with white wicker chairs and heaps their plates with pancakes, nuts, and all sorts of fruit. Then she hands them tall glasses of milk. Condensation beads on the cups.
"Eat up, children. You look like you're starving! There's more if you want it."
The children eat it without a second thought. I mean, come on. It's a creepy old lady with a weird house. The food has got to be safe, right? They're lucky she didn't poison them.
Not that she needs to. They trust her completely and nod off to sleep in oblivion.
As soon as they're asleep, the woman grabs hold of the boy. He wakes up and starts screaming and kicking. The sister also wakes up. She runs to them, pulling on the hag's arm and trying to get her brother loose. It doesn't help.
The witch drags the boy out of the house and slams the door in the girl's face. She's probably going to lock him in the barn. If she has one.
***
Time is strange here. It skips forward in leaps and bounds or goes by so slowly that a minute seems like a day. Roughly four weeks later, the woman comes back from her daily checkup on Hansel, and the gleam in her eye terrifies me.
I won't get eaten now that the children are here. At least, not for a while. I have to escape before then. I feel bad for being so relieved that the woman isn't going to eat me, but I can't help it.
The witch hobbles over to Gretel's cell and grabs her arm, dragging her out of her slumber. "Now, then, Gretel." She pushes the girl out of the cage and towards my side of the dingy back room. "Get yourself together and get some water. Regardless of whether Hansel is thin or not, I'm going to cook and eat him."
Gretel starts trying to escape, but the old woman keeps her penned into the small room where I'm caged. The fire dances on the hearth behind them, causing their shadows to flicker and leap over the straw-covered dirt floor.
"Dear God, help us!" Gretel wails. "If the animals had eaten us in the forest, at least we would've died together."
"Shut up," the old hag snarls, slapping Gretel. "Crying isn't going to help."
Gretel does as she's told and goes silent. Her face has gone white, and her hazel eyes are wide with terror. The woman's slap leaves a red hand print of her cheek, stark against the paleness of her face. She wrings her hands, eyes darting about in search of some way to get free of the monster. Her eyes meet mine for one terrified second before she sinks onto the floor, crying in silence.
The witch is oblivious to this. She goes about the humming routine again and breaks out into song. Crazy woman. Who sings while preparing to cook another human being? Apparently, she does. I'm fairly sure she isn't human.
"We'll bake first," the hag says. "I've heated the oven, and kneaded the dough." She pushes the kid toward a huge oven in the corner of the room. I hadn't noticed it before in my preoccupation with escape.
Gretel is still crying and shaking. She pushes back against the witch, but with no actual intent of escape. She's obviously given up on that.
"Climb in," the witch hisses. "And see if it's hot enough. Then we can put the bread in."
"I don't know how. How do I get in?" Gretel whimpers. "It's too high."
Smart kid. If I could cheer her on, I would. They stand at the hearth of the oven.
The witch backhands her. "Stupid child!" she laughs, the sound rattling in her frail chest. "The door is big enough. Look, I can get in myself." She thrusts her head into the oven.
Okay, so now all the girl's got to do is push her.
Sure enough, Gretel gives the old hag a good shove and shuts the door. The gremlin of a woman screeches for Gretel to let her out, but Gretel doesn't. She runs out the door and doesn't return.
Wise move.
Only now I'm stuck in here with a screaming woman who's burning to death while Gretel escapes. The smell of burning flesh assails me, and I gag. The oven seems to grow brighter and brighter. The whole house quakes and trembles.
Hey! What about me? I wish I could actually yell or form words, but a beak isn't much help with that. Why do I always get into these scrapes? I sit there sulking, wondering what to do now. It turns out that I don't have to wait long.
Gretel and Hansel run back in for some unknown reason.
Hansel's eyes light on me. "Hey, Gretel. Forget the treasure. A chicken is just as good."
Gretel looks at me. "But, Hansel... We need the money. A chicken's temporary."
"Well, grab the chicken too, then."
My cage door swings open, and Gretel takes me out gently. The siblings flee the house just in time. It shakes and trembles before exploding. We fall to the ground as debris showers us.
Sitting up, Gretel pets my head. "It's okay, Scratch."
What kind of name is that?
"Such a good chicken. It'll be okay, boy."
Hansel snorts and stuff strands of pearls and diamond rings into Gretel's apron pockets.
I'm growing sleepy now as Gretel continues petting me and whispering soothing words. This is actually not a bad ending to the day. I may've almost been eaten by a crazy old witch, but I'm safe now, and these kids are sort of sweet in their own way. I'm glad that we all made it out.
"Yes, aren't you a good chicken?" Gretel buries her face in my soft feathers.
I close my eyes, basking in the attention. She's such an adorable little girl. Now that she isn't terrified for her life and her brother's, she's not half bad.
Then Hansel has to ruin it. And he seemed like such a nice little boy. "Yeah, he sure will taste good. Wait until dad sees all this... We've made him rich and brought him a free chicken dinner."
Terror finally overwhelms the chicken. The bird has a heart attack, and everything goes dark.