The Chicken (by Jotham)

Prompted writing from A Cup of Words Writers’ Group, Monday, March 2, 2009.

Prompt: There’s a chicken on the top of the dryer.

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Silence.

It crept in from everywhere.

The emotional attack from every angle.

Lonely. Alone. Isolated. Abandoned.

No one was around anymore.

Each and every one had left him.

Even his closest friends refused to talk to him.

Betrayal.

He could feel it pressing on his heart.

They all had turned their backs on him.

At crucial moments.

When he needed them the most.

They didn’t care.

They didn’t give a damn that he had no one else.

Hurt.

Physical. Emotional. Overwhelming.

They turned the other way.

Causing his heart to break.

He felt the refusal in his bones.

His Heart. His flesh.

Maybe if they knew what was inside.

The real him.

He had to show them.

He was better than they thought.

He could survive without them.

Maybe that’s why he was here.

Sure he was alone.

But he was at the top of his world.

He wasn’t sure how he did it.

But for sure he was the first chicken.

On the top of this particular dryer.