Chickens of The Dawn

The Voice

The storm outside raged and fought with the rickety old barn. Torn pieces of steel roofing threatened to come loose and let the rain and thunder rampage to the dry haven of hay. Jenny looked up and eyed the rafters with unease. Her brother shifted beside her. He cleared his throat and got to his feet.
"Jen, uh..." He cleared his throat again. "I reckon they'll be taking me soon..."
Jenny turned her head and stared at him. They had agreed to not speak of it.
Her heart seemed to sink faster than than the rain that pelted the ground outside. The taking was a miserable topic, but it was inevitable. Sometime, they had to accept it.
Jenny loved her brother, but the farmer's way was not to be avoided. A rooster's destiny could not be denied. A single salty tear leaked down her feathered cheek.
Jenny looked away,unable to stand looking at him any longer. By the end of the fortnight, he would be gone forever.
"Jenny, listen, listen. C'mere." He opened his mottled wings and draped them around her shoulders. "Farmer's gonna make it real quick, just like all the others. And you'll remember me, right? That's all the legacy I need."
She felt herself begin to sob uncontrollably, but she didn't try to stop. Struggling was the only thing she'd ever known, but never had been effective.
Who cares, anyway? She thought hopelessly.
Eventually, the tears subsided. Jenny sighed and leaned into her brother's warmth. He let out a shaky breath and went still beside her. "Jen?" He whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared."
She looked out of their nesting box, not daring to reply. Sometimes talking just made it worse. Talking meant hope, and hope was dangerous. Hope meant thinking about the inevitability of death, the meaning of a chicken life, and how humans owned them. Hope meant thinking about things that should not be hoped for.

The following morning, Jen's brother woke up and crowed, waking up everyone and everything in the immediate vicinity. Jennifer and her brother had not moved at all. They stayed in sad silence for the entirety of the night, listening to the wind howl and the rain patter.
The darkness was sucked out at precisely 6:30 in the morning. The farmer opened the door that let out a rusty creak. Sunlight poured in, and the man brought a bucket of fresh water. Despite the fresh morning, all Jenny could think about was the fact that this could be her brother's last day. She felt that empty feeling inside again, that feeling of depression, loneliness, misery. Grief had already built up inside of her for many weeks. Unspoken words between the hatchlings were some of her most painful memories. She was almost fully fledged now, being twelve weeks old, and would live out the rest of her life as a laying hen. Supplying humans with a daily meal of eggs. Then she would expire and be executed like all the others. Humans ran a business. That was that. Chickens were stupid. That was that. Life was meaningless, other that serving man. That was that. Jenny felt a desire to prove everything wrong. That was that.
All of her short life, she felt a deep and meaningful hatred for man. When she confided in her brother, he had pulled her aside and lectured her to push it down. Don't feel. Serve. Serve and you'll live.
Live?
Survive?
Was there a difference?
Apparently, no one knew. No one cared.

Jenny ran outside and soaked up the sunlight, feeling the beautiful rays warm her fragile bones and make her sleek grey feathers shine. Her brother followed close behind, and a silent agreement passed between them.
Live for today.
The farmer returned through the door and scattered feed on the ground, and the rest of the chickens flocked and scurried around him to get at the food. Jenny honestly thought the small brown pellets were quite horrid tasting, but it wasn't as though any of them had a choice. Occasionally they got some of their own used eggshells, mixed in with the human's compost, which they thought was a bit odd. They ate it anyways, and it was surprisingly accepted as a treat by the flock.
Jennifer and her brother pecked away at the yellow pieces of corn for a few minutes before they felt their stomachs satisfied. The old donkey brayed in the dusty paddock, a distant reminder of their uncomfortable living conditions.
Suddenly there was a whisper in Jenny's ear, deep and raspy, but feminine.
"Die you will," it croaked. "Die, die, die on a log, an axe to your neck."
Jennifer whipped around to face the speaker. But....
There was no one there.
She lifted a foot, feeling her talons clench to her pads, a sure sign she was feeling very uneasy. She scanned the area, searching for any one out of the ordinary.
Suddenly there it was, the voice, embedded in her head like a needle in flesh.
"You will die!" It screamed. "DIE DIE DIE DIE!"
Jenny screeched in pain and crumpled to the ground, clutching her head with a foot.
It was silent and the pain faded. Although it did feel as though a human had crushed her skull and put it back together.
"Go. Leave." the voice commanded quietly. The echo filled her head, then was gone. It escaped her and she heaved a great breath.
What on earth had just happened?