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Over Easy By AnonEmis

"Since all life is futility, then the decision to exist must be the most irrational of all."

-Emile M. CioranI was born one day with no alternative. I fell through my life already knowing what I was alive for and what I would be. However, that made everything hollow, without mystery or curious dirt trails that led away from my routine to a grand adventure. I realize now that it was not my fault, seeing as I was deprived of many. things.I have never seen the sun rise. I have never shared secrets with a friend.

Or felt my feathers catch the wind.

Or dreamt of a nightmare, for inevitability made fears and hopes useless.

When my mother hatched me from my egg, the first thing I remember was feeling my someone's frightened confusion. That frantic sense was omnipresent for my first moments in the world. I felt a jolt of feral excitement as my beak cracked through the shell, the rush of air drying out the fluids of my container, causing my feathers to plaster against my paper skin. Like a frenzied maelstrom, I burst from my cage, shrugged off the brittle fragments, and began crying out to the air.

My small warbles were cut off when a warm body fell upon me and forced me down into the straw nest. A frantic rustle of feathers and a shifting of her body obscured my vision as I was forced against her stomach. Suddenly, I felt something sharp poke my flesh. Thankful for the distraction, I turned my head. I caught a glimpse of a cracked ovular object. The shape of the container was distended, squashed like a crushed pastry. Yellow and white goo dripped and flowed from the jagged peaks of the rim. That was when I realized I was just born. I was alive. Alive and scared.

I didn't see the next few days, rather, it was like a series of sensations. If I was cold, another body would draw closer and I would stop shivering. If I was restless, a soft crooning streamed to my ears and lulled me to sleep. Despite the comfort, I kept my eyes screwed shut, afraid of the terror from my first seconds. Eventually, my curiosity won out. I opened my eyes.

Screams punctuated the air as digits like thick armoured snakes snatched me away from warmth and enveloped me in plastic. I felt a rush of vertigo as I was lifted high into the air. Through the gaps between the gigantic fingers, I saw my mother's face for the first time. Her frenzied eyes were all I saw. I looked up and I saw what the fingers were attached to. A face, with features like melted wax and plastic. Two bulging eyes, a pudgy beak-like thing with pulsating holes, and two rows of white slabs framed by red bands of flesh. A mane of red hair framed its grotesque face. Fortunately for my sanity, the hands formed a sort of sphere around my small body and enveloped me in darkness. I could hear the desperate squawks piercing into my skull, amplified by the darkness of my prison. My beak opened and I emptied my lungs in an outburst of terror, hoping desperately that my feeble cries would penetrate the inky darkness. The shaking continued in a rhythmic thump, shaking me to my bones and drowning out the shrieks of my mother.

Suddenly, the hands opened and I tumbled out blinking and saw in front of me, a grizzled and ominous rooster. He was somber looking, with dark drooping feathers that shrouded his thin frame and head with a ruffle of chestnut feathers that choked his neck in a bristly collar. A cruel, curved beak supported two fleshy medallions that hung from his neck like shackles. His eyes were shot with red cracks. The cloaked bird peered at me from his beak, his crimson crown twitching as he exhaled softly. I met his gaze with reverence while he seemed disinterested, like a predator would regard an unappetizing quarry. All of a sudden, he began to stride forward. Fear clenched my heart. Was I about to die? Frozen in place, I could only watch as his large form blotted out my sight.

---

Over the next few days I began living with the grim-looking rooster in his own little house, the memories of my birth fading fast. It was sparsely furnished with a large straw nest in the corner and large bag of feed beside it. That humble place became my home while the rooster began teaching me how to speak. He would trace letters into the dirt encrusted floor and then speak them out loud, expecting me to repeat. It was an agonizing process, which often ended in the rooster painfully cuffing me across the head and leering down at me with a single beady eye. I railed at my jailor, screaming at him with words that would intermittently devolve into gibberish. I longed for the outside. So, so much. Eventually, Pluto tired and changed his method. He would point out objects in the house and vocalize them. Finally I began to make progress. In three days' time, I knew how to say his name. By the end of the fourth week, I could speak full sentences. I remember seeing the surprise etched on his features and then the small smile that accompanied it. It could hardly be considered a real smile, more of a small twitch of the lips, but it melted away all the resentment I felt towards him as I basked in his pride. With a motion of his wing, he urged me to follow him. My heart skipped a beat when Pluto neared the closed door. It skipped another as he beckoned me over before pushing the door open and releasing me to the brilliant light and air.

As I stared out into the world in wonder, Pluto stood next to me, placing a protective wing around my small body.

"Your name is Charon." He said. "Welcome to the world."

Looking up at his face, I cheerfully chirped.

"Hello Pluto, my name is Charon." His thin smile widened only to vanish as a slamming noise resonated in the air. Both our heads snapped to the source of the noise and my heart clenched in terror. I could feel Pluto stiffen and quickly place his own body between me and the disturbance. As I peeked around his chest, I saw a gigantic wooden panel open on a nearby structure to the left of Pluto's house. A shape shambled out of the open door. The shape had a pudgy body, with stick like appendages protruding from the sides and bottom. I could not see his features, but my mind was resolute. It was just like that nightmarish monster I saw when I was just a baby. A harsh nudge to my back galvanized my legs and forced me to move. As Pluto pushed me back to the house, I could feel tenseness in his voice.

"Humans," Pluto spat. "Don't let any of those monsters see you."

His gravelly voice was tinged with a mixture of disgust and fear. As I sat inside and watched Pluto close off my portal to the outside world, I felt a sort of relief.

---

Months went by in a whirl as Pluto slowly acclimated me to the way my life would play out. We would sleep in his little shelter until dusk, just after the two humans had retreated back to their home. Then, as soon as their door closed shut, ours creaked open. Pluto and I silently crept out of the opening and sat on the grass, positioning ourselves so that Pluto's house hid us from the tell-tale glow of the human's windows. It was a lovely routine, to be free of the stuffy miasma of the house and stretch for a few hours while the rooster simply talked. It didn't really matter to me what he lectured about, how to avoid chicken-hawks and other predators but mostly about the types of trees and how they changed according to the season. I remember occasionally glancing at the foliage of the nearby trees to give Pluto the impression that I was listening; I thought it was especially beautiful how the lush green colours would slowly shift to a vibrant, fiery hue.

"What do you think of those leaves?" Pluto asked one day.

I shrugged, lifting my wings and rustling them in indifference.

"They're very pretty." The rooster snorted. "How shallow." "They're leaves. They're red. They're nice to look at. What else do you think they are?" I rolled my eyes.

Pluto turned his feathered head, gazing at the crimson-wreathed branches. With a sigh, he spoke.

"I think they're a warning."

---

Most of our times outside followed the same routine, with Pluto pointing out something visible from our spot in the grass and asking me for my impressions of it. He always avoided drawing attention to the rickety chicken coop, the tattered roof just visible from over Pluto's home. I was old enough to know that's where I was born but Pluto still seemed to think I was too young to go inside. I would try to wander towards the ramshackle door, drawn in by visions of a crying hen and a scared child. He always stopped me though from entering the coop with a small whack on my head and a few stern words eventually pushed the coop from my head.

"Why can't I get this through your thick head? That place has nothing to offer you, Charon. Don't bother." Pluto glared at me, his red eyes unblinking.

"What are you hiding, old man? Why can't I go in?" I glared right back, doing my best to force back tears from the pain. I stood with my feet firmly planted and met his eyes angrily. We continued staring, both of us daring the other to look away. Minutes passed and my legs began trembling, my resolve slowly melting and pooling at my feet. Just when I was about to break down and apologize, Pluto shuffled forward and wrapped a ragged wing around me. The rooster was trembling.

"I'm... not trying to hide anything," He murmured haltingly, as if he were trying to find the words. He held me a little tighter.

"I'm trying to protect you. I'm not allowed in there either. Not anymore. The humans would likely kill us both."

"I hate the humans." I said sullenly. Feeling my anger dissipate, I leant my head into his side.

Pluto chuckled, his raspy voice like sawdust. He had a funny laugh.

"So do I." "Not surprising," In spite of my best efforts, my lips turned up in a small smile. "You hate almost everything."

That elicited another gruff chortle from the rooster. He looked at me and his smile became bitter.

"You're not wrong, I find this world detestable."

He withdrew his wing a few seconds later and the evening air snaked through my feathers, making me shiver.

"We're going back inside, it's almost dawn." Pluto began walking back home.

"You'll catch a cold or get eaten by a hawk if we stay here." He added.

I nodded and began following him.

"One more thing." Pluto stopped walking and stood still. I stopped as well and looked at him.

"Yes?" He turned his head and fixed me with a steady gaze.

"Don't call me old man."

... Many more weeks had passed and Pluto's house became just a little smaller as I grew up. With each passing day, my thoughts strayed further towards that chicken coop. When we were outside, I caught myself staring at the building looming ominously in the half-light but never dared to bring it up again. As far as Pluto was concerned, the topic was taboo.

It was particularly freezing day where the winds could be heard whistling through the cracks in the roof. We had been forced to stay inside for days because the cold had become murderous and bit through my feathers and into my skin like talons. Even inside, the chill was present. For the first time in my life, I could not sleep. Pluto and I were sitting in our home, he was dozing on the shared bed while I lazily scratched words onto a clean spot of wall with a small piece of charcoal Pluto scavenged from around the pile of junk by the human's house. While I wasn't envious of their blatant and wasteful attitude, I did envy their hands. Bits of dust and black powder often found their way into my throat as I hacked violently and let the charcoal fall from my beak onto the wooden floor.

SLAM A splintering crash snapped me out of my lethargic stupor. The sound echoed in the hollow space of the house and I immediately knew where it came from. I quietly creaked open the door and was immediately blinded by the brilliant white. Snow. I remember learning the word from Pluto but this was the first time I had ever laid eyes on it. Then I heard the crunching, like eggshells being trampled underfoot. Feeling dread seize my body, I opened the door further and saw the human. In its pudgy hand, it clutched a limp figure. My breath lodged in my throat. With a leg firmly grasped in the human's grip, a hen gawked lifelessly at me through glazed, dead, eyes. A switch flipped in my head and the floodgates opened. Memories, long since repressed by the trauma of birth, burst in front of my eyes.

Mother. Dead. The door closed behind the human and my mother's corpse. Frenzied panic seeped into my head. Grief wracked my body. My body shuddered in agony. My breath became explosive bursts. My lungs drew in air.

I screamed. "Mother!" I burst from the doorway, the rusted clasp of the lock slashing into my side as my feet flew over the snowy powder. Vibrant crimson stained the sterile white snow but adrenaline strangled any notions of pain.

"Mother!" I tripped and stumbled. Head over heels, I slammed into the ground face first. As I spat out freezing snow, I screamed again.

"Mother!" A sharp screech answered me. For a brief, euphoric moment, I thought she answered me. A second cry from above shattered any illusions. As I skidded to a halt, I glanced to the clear, morning sky. With massive wings spread, wicked talons outstretched, dagger-like beak ready to maim, a hawk dove upon me.

I cried out in terror and agony as the larger bird landed on me and began tearing into me. I felt my flesh being shorn from my bones like wet paper. Tears flowed from my eyes as I whipped my head in a frenzy and wailed in terrified agony. I was going to die.

A thump and a startled yelp forced my eyes open. As I desperately tried to keep my insides from spilling out, my wavering vision turned to see Pluto and the hawk in a blood-fueled frenzy. The hawk's beak snapped at the rooster, tearing into his side and wrenching feathers and skin from Pluto. With a shriek of pain, Pluto doubled over. The bird of prey took advantage and plunged down, aiming for the exposed neck. My heart caught in my throat as time slowed down. The hawk missed. Pluto scrambled out of the way and buffeted the hawk with powerful wing beats. Distracted by the multitude of blows, the hawk faltered. Pluto dove in and began his own vicious onslaught. His own beak ate through the larger bird's flesh as easily as air and his talons shredded the hawk's vulnerable underbelly. The fight devolved into a maelstrom of bloodlust. Beaks and talons tore through skin and into organs. Feathers flew into the air. Red droplets stained the snow.

With relief, I eventually saw Pluto stagger away from the motionless, mutilated, and bleeding hawk. But as I saw his one remaining eye widen in horror and grief, guilt shot through me.

I caused this. "Charon!" Pluto's ragged cry tore into my heart. As I watched him limp towards me, his organs barely contained in his shredded body, I started to cry again.

"Charon!" When Pluto collapsed inches away from my feet, still calling my name, I managed to choke out a few words.

"I'm sorry, so so so sorry Pluto. I didn't mean-"

My voice petered away as Pluto gently reached over and placed a shredded wing over my body.

"It's alright," He croaked in between labored breaths. "I caused all of this. All because I couldn't control myself."

"What? What do you mean?"

"This world is horrible, child. I'm so sorry for bringing you here." Pluto had closed his eyes, muttering deliriously. "I'm sorry. For you and your mother."

"Pluto!" The older rooster's eye opened, a mere slit. He smiled peacefully at me.

"I'm happy though." Pluto gathered me closer in his embrace. Blood ran like rivers from our wounds and pooled on the ground.

"We'll see each other soon. Okay? In a much better place, I promise."

He paused, blood starting to leak from his mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a human running towards us, a girl. With fiery-red hair. Another cough from Pluto forced me to turn to his mangled face again.

"Soon we'll be in a place where we're free and happy, I swear to you, child. I'll wait for you ok?"

Pluto's eye glazed over and his smile stiffened.

"I'll wait for you." He whispered.

"Pluto!"