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 the others like Ralph and Scout. Her head lunged towards Scout that one day. I was scared. Which was weird, because I’m never scared when I’m with her. Chickens kept disappearing. We didn’t know what was going on. She was frantic. “Something bad is gonna happen to us, Petunia. I can feel it in my bones.” I knew she was right. I just didn’t want to admit it. I wanted to focus on spending time together. We spent most of our days figuring out how long we could stay perched on these tall blocks near us. We would fall off the blocks and laugh so loud. I don’t think she wanted to be perched high up just for fun. I think she wanted to learn more, and maybe standing high up could help her see. I knew she’d go before me. I didn’t think they’d want a scraggly one like me. Everyone kinda forgot when a chicken left. Ralph and Scout would cackle and tease me. “There’s only ever been six chickens here! What do you mean, someone is missing? Crazy girl!” I’m not sure what kept me remembering, cause we all ate the same food and lived the same days. I think it might have been my love for her that kept me alert. And, I sure was alert when she left.
Vishali Muthuvinayagam lives in Chapel Hill, NC. She is a writer and zinester currently working at UNC-Chapel Hill.