JavaScript is required to use Bungie.net

OffTopic

Emperor Abbott

Emperor Abbott

5/25/2012 8:00:42 AM
[quote] DISCLAIMER: In english, we were given a 45 minute creative writing task for exam preparation, that somehow had to relate to issues of power and authority and include the line "it's not my responsibilty." This is my story, which I got 12/15 for. It's slightly changed because apparently I do derpy paragraphs, but it seems odd in this structure. (ignore any spelling of grammar errors, I was rushing typing this up so I can go have a shower and get warm as it's kinda cold at the moment.) Anyway, read and tell me what you think.[/quote] The chicken stood alone. The crisp June air blew softly against its feathers, silent but as cold as ice. She gazed across the road, her beady eyes darting from left to right and a quiet chirp the only sound emanating from an ageing beak. Her feet moved slightly ever so often; a vast difference to the millions of thoughts flowing through her mind. "What if?" Chances are you've heard of this chicken and the accompanying age old question of "why did the chicken cross the road?" Timelessly echoed everywhere from school halls to office buildings, it is a familiar question; yet one that few understand the meaning of. You see, dear reader, that 'the other side' you've heard so much about isn't the other side of the road, but the afterlife. This chicken wanted to die. She turned her head sharply to the left and listened to the slow rumble of a garbage truck approaching. Its wheels moved slowly crunching on loose gravel, almost hypnotic to the distracted chicken. She has the power to make her own decisions in life. To be anything from KFC to an everyday salad. But this chicken can only see the road. Only the ending and nothing in between. As much as I can tell you about what I saw that dark morning, I still don't know why it had to act the way it did. Was it a lonely bird looking at the world's problems with a cold heart and the words "it's not my responsibility"? Or was she an average working bird, pushed too far. Maybe she had too many eggs to nurture, too many fellow chickens to listen to. But did she have the authority to leave her eggs behind with only a joke 'question' haunting them forever? Still, she waited. The metaphorical gears of her mind could almost be heard whirring as thousands of thoughts came into being. [i]when would be the perfect time to step forward? What if I wait too long?[/i] Or maybe it was thinking of the unhatched eggs waiting for it back in the coop. Alone in the world, waiting for the mother that will never return. Thrust upon their own decisions, their own judgement with possibly none to turn to. It was then that she heard me. I shifted my weight only slightly; which was followed by a sharp crack of twigs under my feet in an otherwise deathly quiet street. She looked into my eyes and I saw nothing but sadness in the beady black circles. She was probably wondering what I was going to do next. Would I try and stop her? Should she just run down the road squawking frantically? I felt like a negotiator with a megaphone gazing up at somebody preparing to leap from a building. But this megaphone is broken. '[i]I can't speak chicken[/i]' I remember thinking. A car might happen to come through the fog just as I rushed to grab her. Maybe if somebody had listened to her chirps things would have ended up differently. The chicks would have grown up to have eggs of their own. Whatever the answer, whatever the reason for her choice, whichever car was the one to hit her, the chicken ultimately got what it wanted. In the end, she won and that's all that matters. All that was left was a confused teenager stepping out from behind the wheel and a bloody red mess staining his tyres. I stepped away before he asked any questions that I couldn't answer. It all happened too quickly for me to put together and there were still the same questions of 'why was it in the street?' and 'who was this chicken, before today?' I zipped up my jacket and started the slow walk back home; the early morning grocery run forgotten and replaced with feelings of remorse and sadness. Such is life, I guess. [Edited on 07.19.2012 1:09 AM PDT]
Post Preview Cancel
preload icon
preload icon
preload icon
You are not allowed to view this content.