On November 21, 2011 I was to write a story from a turkey’s point of view for the writing club. It’s my piece of fiction which reflects being a four year old watching Granny catch a Sunday chicken dinner on the farm. Now the turkey talks.
Here they come! It’s the fourth year in a row. I got away every other year. The first year I was too small. They didn’t even bother with me. The second year I was just finding my wings; flitting here and there in the yard outside the chicken coop. The third year I saw them coming; her with the axe in one hand and the coat hanger bent into shape.
I was glad she got the other one. That big turkey had been bugging me even since I knew him. He was always spouting his head off so time it was chopped off.
I’m not moving as fast this year as I used to. I’ve had thoughts lately of impending doom. Maybe I’ll be joining him and have to work out all those unresolved issues.
They got me! At least they knew what they were doing. My leg out from under me; hanging straight upside down and then my spirit was soaring free.
I saw that ball of fluffy, white, meaty me; what used to be me flopping around in the grass.
Interesting to watch my feathers all ending up on the manure pile with my innards, and I don’t know when I’ve been this clean.
Surprised they only got fifty cents a pound for me. Guess you’ll do anything when you’re desperate.
Picky eaters! This one doesn’t like my white meat. This one the dark.
My gizzard was a hit.
I have been in so many stomachs. And now it’s toilets. At least I’m headed down the watery sewage system and back into the flow of life.
Living life free again!
ellensagh 