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Called 'Chicken Feed' - A drabble.
Blasting through her earphones, 10,000 watts... pure, undefiled rock, herbal tea and a means to escape.
The tally rising to 7,000. All dead. An earthquake and it wasn't the only one.
The music drowned her in a sea of angst -
Stick it to the man! Yeah!
Death and decay mattered no more as she indulged in a little 'chicken soup' for her soul.
Chicken feed. 10,000 tons of it.
Food was low and Kirk was now a rich man - he'd hijacked the jackpot.
A renegade truck driver on the highway to his escape.
Where was he going? Could he hide himself and the chicken feed he was carrying? How long before ultimately being discovered?
Was his escape worth it?
It was his only shot.
Although it was 12pm, the dull iridescent beam of street lights guided his maniacal path as he swerved shakily along the major roads.
She wished it was night - the moon was pretty nowadays as it had become the same crimson color as her nail varnish.
Apart from that the day and the night had meshed together making a mockery of everything that darkness and night originally stood for.
She walked past some TVs in a shop window. Nights ago, she had seen the public execution of a group of radicals, Christians, tried in court for opposing homosexual rights.
Why couldn't they just take drugs to escape the trials and tribulations of every day life like everyone else? Why put yourself at risk?
Sipping her herbal tea she ambled out onto the street.
Hitting the gas pedal, he went faster, more desperate, as though being chased.
The great escape.
Already he was thinking of what he would do with all this food. Engineered for chickens, but famines had spread wide across every country and there was some pretty little bags with dollar signs he could fetch for all of this.
Money was money, but this was... chicken feed.
Wrapped in his own thoughts it was too late before a cup of freshly bought herbal tea hit his windshield and the truck bumped underneath him.
Is there a moral in this story? A point?
Just that everyone is so worked up escaping life that they've lost all meaning on what it is that Jesus stands for.
People die pointlessly having no conviction in which to submit.
If nothing else, we've got to be grateful that we live for something more.
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