Category Archives: fiction

by Christiane Williams-Vigil The soil loosens under his talons. Deep copper tones of clumps break apart into fine powder. The rooster pecks at the ground a few times to try and stir grub from their hiding spots. In the Sierras, the scent of early morning pan and café de olla fills every Adobe home. HisContinue reading “El Gallo”

by Vishali Muthuvinayagam She had lovely white feathers draped down her side. They never got as dirty as mine did. I’m not sure how she did it. She had a really kind laugh. To a human, our laughs sound the same, but I could always tell when she was laughing. She stood up against theContinue reading “Cage-Free”

by Rebecca Stansfield They might live in the house with her, those four-legged hairballs, but I am her favourite. My dinosaur claws try to scale the carpeted stairs, before my entrance is impeded, that damn dog always comes out of nowhere with his dopey face. She’s happier with me, in the garden, pottering about, lookingContinue reading “The Hen”

by MJ Huntsgood I meet my stepmother’s chickens while my father is in the ICU. They’re fluffy and small and smell like the inside of a sewage system but she puts one in my hands and I smile for her Facebook photo because that’s what you do when a loved one is dying. You pose.Continue reading “Can’t Chicken Out”

by J.K. Levine All my friends want chickens. They ask: have you heard about the bird flu? A hundred million chickens infected. They cull the sick. That’s why the price of eggs is so high. And they appeal to reason: a chicken would pay for itself in this economy, and if we sold the eggs,Continue reading “Cage Free”

by Raymond Brunell Old Bess wasn’t any hen. Her speckled feathers carried the dust of a hundred seasons, and her comb was forever dull and dusty. But her eggs—well, those had changed. Last Tuesday, she laid one glowing like dandelion wine, and when it cracked, no chick appeared. Instead, a tiny, perfect cloud rose, noContinue reading “Compliment Clouds”

by Nyla Singleton This little egg, oh, how I wish it were mine. This coop I’ve learned to call home is nothing short of lively. Mother hens stake their claim, flaunting their perfectly born chicks. The cluck of their excitement, the erratic flap of their wings, the unbearable sparkle in their beady eyes—I feel nothingContinue reading “This Little Chick of Mine”

by E.N. Estrada Beloved, I hope you are well. Cluck cluck. Scritch. Scratch. Cluck cluck. The sounds of chickens are everywhere, here. I sometimes watch them running about from my window, but they pay me no mind. The room I inhabit is on the top floor, and affords me a lovely image of the fields,Continue reading “The Chickens at the Pink House”

by Laura Shell So there is one rooster in the neighborhood that sounds normal, emits the typical cock-a-doodle-doo cry in the wee hours of the morning. Then there is the other rooster, the one that submits a scream like someone is holding a hand around its throat. It’s like an “Ehhhhhhh,” sound. And it’s muchContinue reading “The Rooster That Screams”

by Raymond Brunell The chickens next door spoke perfect French. Not tourist French—university French, debating Sartre while pecking beetles. “L’existence précède l’essence,” proclaimed the russet hen. “But what of our essence, confined to this pen?” I pressed my ear to the window. Their philosophical discourse was the only conversation worth having. More profound than colleagues,Continue reading “Viens Ici”