Chicken Cult

Issue #1 (pilot)

It was a night like any other. No one cared about the moon and its streaming silver light because it was upstaged by the ugly yellow street lights that loomed over this ass crack of a city. The stars were blocked out by a dark plume of pollution and the streets were lined with clatter of rubbish and snow.

Feeling a sneeze coming on, young Astra Vega readied her hands to cover her mouth…but it didn’t come. Cursing the cold she lowered her hands and clutched her lion of a stomach. She leaned against the cold brick wall of the Happy Harbour High School Library, her eyes sifting through the dark shadows beyond the illuminating abilities of a single street lamp to her left.

Time passed and the mercury contracted. Astra checked the time on her phone. After almost being blinded by its ‘full brightness’ light, she came to the conclusion that Trinity was late. Trinity always ran late when it was her turn for the chicken run. Once every week, Astra and her roommate Trinity would go for a chicken run at night and feast on fried goodness in the Book of Isles. Every week they would alternate the responsibility of buying the chicken. Astra didn’t know if it was Trinity’s non-existent stamina or sheer laziness that always made her late, but she didn’t care. She just wanted chicken.

Yet another half hour passed, and the poor girl was still standing outside the old school library. The temperature was at the below zero range. She would go straight to the Book of Isles but Trinity had the key to the back door. Everything was just working out swimmingly. Astra stood there, on the border of the street lamp’s light, completely still, staring at the snow gathered at her feet. She wasn’t like other people who were unable to stand still and had the urge to tap their foot or rock back and forth or fiddle with their shirt hems. She stood as still as tree, her eyes bleak with patience, her skin as pale as boiled chicken.

“Did you freeze to death or something?” the sudden sound of speech woke her from her icy sleep.

Astra looked up to a tall boy under a red hood. He looked familiar; maybe they attended the same school? He pushed back his hood to reveal a warm tanned face bright with a perky smile.

“Are you ok?” He was holding a juice box with a gloved hand and a plastic bag in the other, “It’s pretty late, are you lost or something?”

Astra remembered that humans required speech. She lightly coughed to clear her throat before squeaking, “Uh, no. I’m just waiting for a friend.”

His face lit up as he took a sip of his juice, “Oh, you’re Astra right? We have geography together.”

Astra zoned out as he blabbered on about how he knew her. Her eyes were totally focused on the juice box in his grasp. Something woke inside of her, something dark. It was a feeling of a constant tension slowly easing. But the ease was craving…

“Yeah so do you need someone to keep you company or something?” he questioned as Astra’s eyes flashed red.

A flurry of warmth washed over her as a wolfish smile cracked across her porcelain face. Two sharp fangs emerged amongst her teeth and she dashed forward with superhuman speed. The boy didn’t even see it coming. Astra witnessed his innocent face as she neared in for the kill. Such ignorance to the cruel world around him, much tasty.

Scarlet blood stained the dirty snow gathered around the lifeless body sprawled on the ground. Astra crouched down to examine the dead body, her mouth expanding and her fans exposing. She leaned in and snatched the half full juice box from the dead boy’s grasp. Feeling content with herself, she rocked back onto her heels and plunged her fangs deep into the juice box’s cardboard. Sweet elixir danced on her tongue as she emptied its contents. The dark craving in her soul was latching onto the taste.