Chapter Twelve
Wade
The sky is bright with stars, the only light for miles. It’s the way I like it. I prefer when it’s dark, when it’s quiet, when no one is bothering me. When the world is asleep, I can lie here and be peaceful.
Only it isn’t exactly peaceful because laughter is coming from inside the house. Daisy’s cheery laugh floats through the open windows, and Gus’s follows. Dinner was good, but not enough to make me want to stay after.
I’m happy he’s enjoying himself, I guess.
Really, I think he’s being stupid. There’s no point being friendly with this girl when her family is the one who did this to us.
She’s as guilty as Agnes is. She says she didn’t know about the curse, but how can that be true?
We saw her here all the time. She, like us, wasn’t born when the curse happened, but she was around enough to know something.
And it’s the same thing with that safe. Gus tells me he’s certain she’s trying to help get it open… but why doesn’t she know the code? Wouldn’t Agnes have left it for her? My grandfather left all sorts of things for my father for when he passed, this way he was prepared for his passing.
See, this curse is a mess. I don’t know what happened and where it went wrong, or if it’s supposed to be this way, but it’s only been us three stuck here on the farm.
Our grandfathers and fathers were fine to roam around and do as they pleased.
Maybe it was done on purpose so the town wouldn’t notice something wrong?
They didn’t get stuck here on the farm like we are.
We are the ones who have suffered the most, and it’s why I’m so angry all the time.
We didn’t do a damn thing yet we’re paying the harshest price.
It isn’t fair.
Rhett is already in the coop, probably working on laying his egg.
It hurts like a bitch, but we don’t really have a choice in the matter.
It just happens. Every damn day. Well, most days…
when I’m in an especially foul mood, they don’t come, and I have a massive stomach ache all day until the damn thing finally pops out of me.
I shift, resting my arms behind my head as the horses move around in their stalls. I swear those things never sleep, and sometimes I wonder if they’re people too.
When we’re in chicken form, we can’t communicate with each other outside of looks or nodding and shaking our heads. It’s a pain in the ass, but it’s easier to be in chicken form.
Human form drains us. Makes us tired. And eventually, we shift back automatically. Some days we can’t handle a full eight hours of human form. Other days it isn’t so bad. And the closer we get to the property line, the harder it is to stay human.
“I’m going to take whatever good I can get.”
It’s those words that keep replaying in my head. Don’t know why since I don’t agree with it. What’s the point in enjoying something if you know it’s going to go away? If you know it’s going to end, why bother? You’re only going to miss it when it’s gone. It’s only going to hurt more later on.
Though, that meal was really good—which is exactly the problem.
The meal was good, and now I’m thinking about it.
I could go back in there and have another—but one day I won’t have that choice.
And who the hell even knows what’s going to happen to us since she’s selling the farm, according to Rhett.
What’s going to happen when someone buys the place and realizes it comes with chickens they can’t get rid of?
What then? They going to kill us and eat us for dinner? That’s what I would do.
This is all so ridiculous.
So damn ridiculous.
Who the hell gets cursed to be a chicken? Agnes is crazy. Actually crazy.
The house falls silent, and I keep staring at the stars, wondering what it’s like up there. I loved the stars when I was younger and wished I could have been born to a different family. A family of scientists and not big-dollar farmers who cared more about their image than happiness.
Agnes wasn’t that type of woman, from what I’ve gathered. She just wanted to live her life on her family’s land. That’s all. So why the hell did our grandfathers have to go sticking their noses where it didn’t belong?
I hope their afterlives aren’t peaceful, because despite everything around me, I haven’t felt peace my entire life.
I wake in the coop with Rhett, both of us having laid an egg for Daisy. I glance at Rhett, tilting my head to the side, silently asking where Gus is. He gives me a look back that says he doesn’t know.
I hop off my nest and walk to the door, pushing it open with my weight. The only reason it stays closed is to keep the foxes from getting us. No one is worried about us running off or anything. Can’t freaking go anywhere.
The back door bursts open the moment I step over the threshold, my foot gets caught, and I trip, stumbling out like a baby lamb.
Gus is barreling out of the house, grinning a mile wide while looking crazed. I right myself and mentally prepare for whatever is about to happen… but nothing could have prepared me for what he is about to say.
He yanks the door open, running to me and stopping a foot in front of me. I look all the way up at him, craning my neck back.
“I slept all night in human form.”
My head tilts to the side again, so confused.
He’s nodding, still smiling. “All night. I woke up like this.” He gestures down his body. “I swear. I didn’t change at all.”
I shift into human form, which is a lot easier now than it used to be. It’s also no longer painful… the only thing painful is when I get frustrated and sprout feathers at random. It feels like pulling a hair out. Annoying.
“What are you talking about?” I bark.
“I fell asleep inside the house, and I woke up like this.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, glancing at the house.
“So sure.”
Daisy comes out of the house next, her hair a damn mess.
“Are you okay, Gus?” she calls, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.
“Never better!” he calls back. “This is amazing. I told you she would fix this. I told you.” He runs back to her, picking her up and spinning her around. She laughs, and they both head back into the house.
Rhett is beside me a moment later, also in human form.
“You think it’s the house?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, it’s not the damn house.”
I think they did something.