The red hen clucks at him, pecking at the dirt around his feet. It's summertime, which means school is not currently in session, but that doesn't mean he does not have work to do. A hawk took one of the innocent little chickens the other day, so he has been assigned to watch over them for awhile.
He sits on the porch, watching the chickens strut around and scratch for food. One has three little chicks. The one closest to him, that he has affectionately named Molly, is different from the rest. While the others have red feathers and perfect beaks, pretty golden eyes, fluffy tails and cute waddles, Molly is different. She, for one, is stark black. She is missing one eye. She walks with a limp; she is missing most of her left foot. She has no fluffy tail, as the places where her beautiful feathers once grew have been replaced with scar tissue. She almost has no waddle left.
While most see an ugly chicken, one that is better off culled, he sees a brave, gorgeous creature. One who only has one eye, because some rough, mean boys used to torment her. One who only has part of a foot because she protected her babies from a racoon. One who has scars becuase she was burned in a fire after a careless man kicked her aside and into the flames.
He reaches for this beautiful chicken, murmuring to her as he places her in his lap. She clucks softly, gently- settling down as if she is on her nest.
Yes, she is different. That is why he loves her, because he is different too.
"I love you, Molly," Ezra Thompson says.
YOU ARE READING
Little Blue Strings
General Fiction**COMPLETED** This is the story of Life, Death, a lonely human, and all those other names and faces that linger or are forgotten by time. It is a story of the violent and chaotic world, and the places in which, every now and then, everything is stil...
