Chicken, Human, and Demon

CHICKEN

Moist and cold sand covered the land in this farm. Millions of worms moved the sand as they tried to run away in this farm. Big and small, black and white-all kinds of worm existed on this land. They have no arm, no legs, or no eyes. Blinded, they were. Their existence seemed powerless and futile for which they didn't give a shit about.

A long and slender worm wriggled though the soil and moved forward. It was an odd one-a mutated one-an evolved one. His color was neither black nor white. Its legs gave him an advantage over the others. His arms boxed any sand particles that came in his way. It was a young one, still finding its place in this world.

A chicken bent over and looked at this odd worm. It looked interesting to the chicken. The chicken must have thought to eat it. It looked tasty, nutritious. So why not? Everyone likes rare food. But the chicken was a mother, nonetheless. So the chicken opened its beak and took the odd worm in its mouth and fed it to one of its growing child-a beautiful baby chick still finding its way out of the egg. Chicken looked worried about its newborn chick. The mother put its head around the chick's head like a mother holding his baby for the first time. But this was more. To this chicken, it may as well be the last time.

In this farm, there were thousands of chickens. Big and small, white and black, matured and deformed-all kinds of chicken bred in this place. Chicken touched each other's bodies. Taking one foot without disturbing the other was impossible in this farm. They were like ants trying to emerge from the ground but no other space to go to. Some chicken even suffocated whose lungs are not competitive to grasp for air. Some were deformed, without legs, or beaks, or eyes - unable to walk, unable to make talk, unable to eat–like a dying man trying to find youth even though he knows that it's already gone.

The baby chick who eat the special worm shined in this black-hole farm. Yellow-colored fur of this chick deemed the lights of sun. Its voice had a soothing quality to it that comforted its mother and its siblings. Its eyes were looking for light, looking for hope in this black hole. As it walked to take the first ever step of its life outside the nest, its mother built, a farmer came and took the baby chick away.

The farmer put the baby chick in a bucket with others. Corroded and rusty bucket made the chick sick, but the farmer was used it. For decades, he is doing this. His father was also a farmer before him, and his father's father was too. It's a family tradition. The bucket was full-anymore and the chicken will fall off.

The farmer went outside to open nearby slaughter house. Fresh red blood covered the land of this part of the farm. Buckets filled with blood stood on one side. Hard to say whether it belongs to chickens or humans. He started slaughtering the chickens. One by one and finally came the time of baby chick. He took it. This baby chick was special. Normally, chicks grow old to become full-grown chicken. Older chickens have more muscle mass, so farmer can sell them for high price but this chick was a rare item. The tastiness of this chick faded as it grew older. Scientist called them–'doomed'. Doomed to be born to be eaten.

The farmer held the chick upside down and slit its throat. As its consciousness faded into nothingness, the last drop of blood left its body. Then farmer drowned its body in hot water to make feathers wet and put its body in a machine which removed the feathers from its body. Finally nothing left except raw, pink skin covering the food meant to be devoured by humans. A fragile man would have lost his heart and burst in tears like rain feeling the emptied rivers of summer, but the farmer was expressionless. His focused eyes and steady hands said only one thing–he was used to this. Someone who can do it even if he is sleeping.

The farmer went outside to his truck and put the bucket with thirty other buckets in the back of his truck. Orange-brown color, with few blue dots scattered here and there, covered his truck. But only the god knows that orange-brown wasn't the color of this truck originally. The color was soothing blue but corrosion of time turned it into the beast the truck looked today. The farmer went inside the truck and started its engine.

Engine screamed its way to nearby local restaurant–a scream that can even shatter the dreams of a sleeping rooster who forgot to crow that morning. The restaurant has following words written on it: 'the best place to eat, the safest place to eat.' Gigantic size of the restaurant can barely overshadow the mouth-watering aroma coming from its door, lingering in the entire street. This aroma lured the people from the entire country to its gold-plated door.

The farmer stopped the truck at the back of the restaurant and emptied the chicken from the bucket inside the storage of the restaurant, A man in an apron came out from a door inside the storage room–he was the master chef of this restaurant. He looked at the chicken and said, "same old, same old." But then he glanced at the baby cheek shining with its yellow color and said, "A rare thing to see a beauty like that."

"You have to pay triple if you want it." Farmer replied.

"Triple? Come on. I'll pay double. Not one dime more." Said the chef.

"Then no deal." Farmer smiled.

"Okay. Okay." said the chef reluctantly. After all, he has to compete with its competitors. He always paid farmer more than the others. So the farmer can bring the best chicken to his restaurant first and then after he has picked his sacrifices for the good of the stomach of his customers, the farmer went to other restaurant to sell off the rest of unwanted ones.