THE SAD CHICKEN STORY:
Once upon a time we got some chickens. (Last year, twelve of them.) When they were teenagers in chicken years, we sent them outside to get a job. They lived in a lovely apartment with food, water, and roosting spots on a wooden castle. (Really.)
Then, two of them gave in to temptation and got TOO CLOSE TO THE FENCE, allowing some short, dark, and handsome predator to pull them through the fence. Trouble was, they didn't fit. They went out in pieces.
The next morning, the tragedy was discovered, along with one surviving chicken dubbed "Wingless," because, well, she got too close to the line of temptation and lost a wing, but her life was saved.
Wingless and her surviving sisters began earning their keep by producing lovely brown eggs. They enjoyed leaving their apartment to scratch in the yard and sunbathe their russet feathers and yellow beaks beneath the sun's warm rays.
Then tragedy struck again when a Strange Dog entered the yard through an open gate and carried a chicken home to meet its family. We never saw that chicken again.
Nine sisters remained. The gate was reinforced and closed every day. But who would have thought that the chain link fence would give way to a burrowing dog with his cold eyes fixed on Wingless? It turns out that she only got two lives, because she's a chicken, not a cat.
Eight chickens left. Fewer eggs in the fridge. And the neighbor up the street has never lost a single chicken, to dogs or raccoons or speeding cars or space aliens or anything.
Time to readdress the situation. Spiky chicken collars, anyone?
This sad but true tale provides a good model for story writing. A goal (chickens) fraught with various troubles (separate predator attacks) and finishing with a solution. (Ninja chickens. They look cute in their little black belts.)
Now go write a story. It's good for you.
(See "What Brothers Do" at shirleybahlmann.blogspot by clicking here!)
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