This piece of flash fiction is written for Friday Fictioneers.
“John,” I said helplessly, “what’s wrong?”
“My chicken,” john mumbled.
“Chicken?”
“He takes over my mind whenever he gets an opportunity. He remains hidden because he’s afraid of these.” He indicates a bottle of pills on the table. “But they won’t last forever. It’s almost ten and they are wearing off. He’s close behind me right now. Pretty soon he will be digging his teeth and claws in my neck. Then I’ll give in and take another tablet and he will retreat to the background. He comes five minutes earlier every day. He wants to be the one to kill me you see.”
Oh Danny Boy! 
Very sad. At least, something’s been found to help him. That would be so scary as it’s so real to him. Tragic. Well written Danny. — Suzanne
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Always appreciate your comments.
DJ
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Sad, really.
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This is a chillilng tale, that’s for sure. I can’t imagine a life like this. The mind plays wicked games sometimes. Well done.
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Thank you. I appreciate the comment.
DJ
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Effectively chilling! (shiver) What an intense response to such a playful photo – I love it!
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Thanks for the nice comment!
DJ
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Maybe if he stops with the pills (or takes more of them if they’re anti-psychotics) the chicken will leave the poor fellow alone…
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Sadly, John probably doesn’t find the chicken dance as much fun as I do.
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Seems like there’s finally someone who found that awful chicken thing as creepy as I did!
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It was strange. Thanks for stopping by.
DJ
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Death by Chicken – indirectly of course. Nice one.
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oh dear…I see pill addiction in John’s future.
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Yup!
DJ
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