Chicken Catastrophe : Short Story

Which was the reason why I hated Eros. I hated that I loved him. I hated that his one glance on me could lift up my mood instantly. For the last six years, ever since Mom and I moved to New York, I have been madly in love with the most unreachable guy in our school.

I went to my living room to ask my mom a question, to see she wasn’t there. I asked my brother “where’s mom?” and he replied with “shes at the hospital, grandpa got burnt.” I would never have expected “grandpa got burnt” to be as severe as it was. I remember my mom coming home around two in the morning. I got up and out of bed to ask some questions. She said “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Pack some stuff up, we’re going to Waterloo tomorrow.” So I listened and packed up a bag.

And then, the day I had feared of most, finally arrived. We lost our father, the only figure I truly felt safe with. After months of mourning and painful transformations, our mother fell sick. In those terrible days, days during which I was locked in the basement most of the time, for my safety and even more: for the safety of my family, I was incapable of helping. To this, I regret even today.

This week’s reading topic is about the history of chickens. In the Smithsonian article “ How the Chicken Conquered the World” by Andrew Lawler and Jerry Adler, it discusses about how chickens have saved the Western civilization. According to the legend, the Athenian general Themistocles came across a cocks fight during his way to invade the Persians forces. In addition, history records that the Greeks repel the invaders and preserved the civilisation “honors the creatures by breading, frying and dipping them into one’s choice of sauce.” These creatures are known as the descendants of roosters.

Reading literature is always one of my favorite hobbies when I have a free time or have nothing to do. I absolutely love spending my times to read any kinds of literatures, such as romantic and fantasy novels for relaxing and escaping the real world to the imagination world. My last literature, excepted some text books, is The Decapitated Chicken and Other Stories that is written by Horacio Quiroga. There are composed of many short stories, but only two stories are mostly impressing me because they are about love. These two stories, “The Decapitated Chicken” and “The Feather Pillow,” have the same theme; they are about love. They do not only give me an enjoyment, but they also give me consideration points about a family and loves. Both “The

That beautiful morning, the morning of the day that marked an event that will change the lives of those who were witness to a melancholy occurrence. That day started with kids and parents going about their normal morning routines trying to get ready for their days at school and work. Nobody expected the turmoil that would ensue in the middle of that beautiful november afternoon.The sunlight coming in the window and the rays lightly brushing the skin for just a slight warmth when eating the delicious home cooked breakfast made by a caring heart. This was the morning that Tom Nensel had that day. Tom, my father, was one of those unsuspecting

We were in the car on our way to the Baseball game. It was pretty hot outside, 90 degrees or so. We were going 60 miles an hour down I-55. Dad and I hadn’t really talked until Litchfield, but when traffic completely stopped, we had nothing to do but talk. “So what did you do this week?”Dad asked. Of course it was the summer, so I hadn’t done anything in the past week, so I just

The story ‘’ The Decapitated Chicken’’ is about a young couple who have four mentally ill sons and one ‘’normal‘’ daughter. The narrator recounts how, with the birth of each son, the couple hoped for a ‘’ normal‘’ child. Finally, the couple’s fifth child, a daughter, is ‘’ normal ‘’. She receives her parent’s attention, while the four ‘’ idiots‘’ are given to less than loving care of a servant. In the text it says ‘’ with such emotions there was no longer any possibility of affection for the four boys. The servant dresses them, fed them, put them to bed, with gross brutality.’’ This shows how the parents no longer cared about the four sons and how the servant treated the boys with cruelty because of the way they are. This is the

It was a late summer afternoon in Crenshaw Los Angles. The sun is setting and I was sitting at the stairs of the two apartment building I lived at. I was waiting for my dad to return from work. Down in the street gust of wind blew torn paper into spirals. The sun was shining through the bright blue empty sky making it hard to see through the distance as the light shines through my eyes. My father was walking towards me with the harsh light of the sun outlining his body. As my father began to come closer to me the sun began to set even more. Light fading away as soon as my father stood in front of me. As he stood in front of me I was able to smell the fresh paint that was stained on his pants all the way up to his neck. He then squats down in

Warily, I walked over to where my father was standing right outside the school, waiting for Cole and I, when I saw he had shades on, I knew for sure that something was wrong, due to the fact he never wore shades. When we were to the pick-up my whole family was in there. Noticing, when I jumped in the pick-up, my mother also had shades on. Anxiously, I sat there attentively for the longest second of my life, then my father stammered to us that grandfather had passed away. Countless emotions were running through me, overwhelmed; I didn’t know what to think, raving; owing to they said he was going to be adequate, grieving; due to I didn’t get to talk t6o my grandfather before he passed

His booming laugh filled my ears with joy. He asked me to help carry some hunting equipment out to the car. I nodded eagerly. It was my first ever-hunting trip. Even though I didn’t know what to expect and I couldn’t even touch a gun it was still going to be fun. When we arrived at the hunting ground it was barren and brown and the crisp thirty mile and hour wind jabbed me every second. The previous appeal of this trip had suddenly turned to disgust and the hunting hadn’t even begun. My dad smiled at me and I feebly smiled back. The first hour was fine, the feeling in my hands went within ten minutes even though I was wearing gloves. The third hour , I started crying and my dad bribed me to stop with candy and verbal threats of punishment. However, by the fifth hour of thirty degree weather and less than two birds being shot, I sat down. The final act of defiance to try and turn the tides in my five year old favor. My actions in fact had the opposite effect and my Dad kept walking. Shivering, teary-eyed, and defeated. I stood up and dragged the small wooden gun behind me. The walk to the car seemed like an eternity, nevertheless, we got there before the sun went

I was walking to my house after a long day of school. All day I was waiting for this moment; To see my dog. I walked inside. I saw my dad, which was strange because he was never home. I look around. There was an empty dog bed, covered in brownish-red fur. My sister’s head was in her hands, she was shaking uncontrollably. I turn towards my dad, his eyes filled with pity and sorrow. I set my backpack down and search for my companion. Being the insensitive and ignorant child I was, I ask, “ Where’s Duke?”. My dad glanced at me making direct contact. The words I was about to absorb , were almost deadpan. He replied monotonously, “ He’s gone.”. The only word that can explain how I was feeling was numb. I hadn’t realized the stumble backwards into the wall, or the tears shed, not even the comfort I was trying to be given. Though I thought that this was going

We rarely saw Dad without a smile, except when we left food on our plate, and it wasn’t because there were starving children in India. We also learned never to say we were hungry because Dad would mutter, “You kids don’t know what it is to be hungry.” At the time I didn’t know why he said it, but I did know it was terribly important that we gratefully eat whatever food was put in front of us. Dad was loving and thoughtful

There once was a fuzzy little chicken named Hennery. Hennery woke up one morning and opened his fridge to find he was all out of food, so off to the store he drove in his very small car. Shopping through the store he found some fruit and placed it in his basket. Walking down the sweets aisle, he tossed some donuts, and then some cookies. He spotted some Twinkies and threw those in his basket. In addition, he soon began tossing everything that he saw in sight into his basket. After his basket was so full he could barely push it. Making his way through the register and paying he arrived at his small car. He began to load the groceries in his car when he realized he didn’t have enough room. However, after thinking for a few

The phone rang again. Hoping for good news, yet again I was disappointed. It was my mom; she said she was following our pastor to my grandmother’s house. She said, “We are going to tell Grandma he’s gone”. I knew this would be one of the hardest things to do; it was her birthday after all. The three of us jumped in the car. We drove up to Grandma’s house. I remember Tosha running into the house and falling into her arms. Everyone tried to pull themselves together, but how could this be? This had never happened to us before. The wheel was broken.