Alektorophobia

Its presence was hard to ignore as it crept its way into the bedroom. The old wooden flooring under it creaking with every step. I pulled the wool blanket up over my face in hopes to hide myself from the beast that had just entered. If I can’t see it then it can’t see me, right? At least that's what my mama taught me when I was a little girl.

After a couple seconds, the floor stopped creaking.

Did it see me? Did it leave? Was it even real? My mind raced.

I slowly lowered the blanket so that only my eyes peered over it. The room was dark, but I could still make out the creature's silhouette. It was standing in the middle of the room, its beady little eyes looking right at me. I felt paralyzed, my spine chilled and my stomach turned. It began to creep closer to the bed. Its movements, jerky and unpredictable yet steady and confident. As it’s body moved, it’s head stayed completely still, eyes locked on me.

It stood over my bed, over me. I could see it…all of it.

Its body was human, two arms and two legs, but they were skinny. Skinny enough to see its veins pulsing under its skin. Its hands and feet were human too. Its head however was small, feather covered. Its eyes were small and beady and it didn’t have a mouth, but a beak. The smell that resonated from it reeked of an old coop. Beads of sweat down its naked body and onto the floor.

The fowl looked upon me and still I couldn’t move. Its beak opened and let out a chilling shriek that sounded both beast and human.

I awoke, shooting up out of bed, my heart trying its damndest to jump out of my chest. I looked around the room, trying to steady my breathing. 

Alektorophobia, they call it. The fear of chickens. It started when I was just a little girl. My mama and papa were farmers. They had all sorts of animals that they cared for. From time to time I would give them a hand, milking the cows, shearing the sheep, feeding the pigs, but I could never and would never go near the chickens. Maybe it was the way they moved, or their beady little eyes, or the way they howled in the morning. I was dragged to different doctors but that was no help. I thought maybe with age I would grow out of this, I thought maybe if I married a farmer and got some of what the doctors call exposure therapy it would do me some good. But that was just foolish.

I walked into the kitchen where my husband, Clint, was finishing up his breakfast. Remnants of eggs, bacon and toast crumbs scattered about his plate. My stomach turned at the thought of eating. He downed the last of his coffee and sat up from the table.

“You look a little pale Lou-Anne,” he said, grabbing his plate from the table and heading to the sink. “ You feelin alright?”

“Yeah I’m just a little nauseous.”

He set his plate and mug into the sink. “Yeah mornin sickness will do that to yah.” He smiled. 

“Yeah yer probably right.” I said, but I don’t think he was. Now don’t get me wrong, pregnancy does cause morning sickness, he ain’t fibbin, but I don’t think that’s why my stomach is upset. I’m 8 and a half months pregnant, and most women stop experiencing morning sickness after their first trimester. I think the cause was from that dream. From that fowl. 

“I gotta head into town and pick up some stuff from Gary Lee’s, you gonna be ok to hold down the fort?”

“Yeah of course, I’ll take the hay down to the horses.”

“Now don’t be foolish, you need to rest and keep our boy safe.” He said putting his hand on my stomach. It was true, we were having a boy. The doctor told us on our last visit. Said he was one of the healthiest babies he’d ever seen. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, if you need me you got Lee’s number on the fridge.” Clint grabbed his things and took off in his old rust bucket of a truck. I watched from the kitchen window as he took off down the dirt road leading out of the property. I stared for a while out the window until his truck vanished on the horizon. Then pain hit me like a ton of bricks.

Contractions. 

I clenched my stomach and doubled over in pain. This one was short, but damn if it didn’t make me pee myself. When the pain subsided, I stepped over the puddle and headed to the bedroom. I pulled off my soiled nightgown and threw it into the hamper, panties along with them. I’ll deal with you later, I thought. Before I could put new clothes on, a shadowy figure passed the corner of my eye. 

“Clint?” I hollered. “Watch yer step in the kitchen, I had a little accident. Junior is dying to come out.”

No response.

“Hello?”

Still nothing. 

I threw on a fresh set of clothes and made my way toward the hall. As I reached the doorway, chills ran down my spine. Brown feathers scattered the hallway to the living room. I became dizzy and could feel my body starting to sweat. Despite my best judgment, I followed them, hoping to god that it was just something that Clint dragged in from outside. As I made the corner I could smell something rancid, something filthy, something animal. I froze. 

Standing tall in the living room was the fowl. The thin layer of sweat on its skin dripped onto the rug. This time it’s body was still but it’s head was darting around the room, looking for something, looking for me. I took a step back, but the floor under me creaked. The fowl’s head snapped back in my direction and took off after me. I ran as fast as I could down the hallway, trying my best not to scramble Junior. I looked back, the creature was still after me. Its body hunched down, to not hit its head on the ceiling, running in the most unsettling way. I quickly turned into the bedroom and slammed the door shut making sure to slide the lock into place. The creature banged against the door with its beak. The loud thuds echoed through the bedroom. I slumped down onto the floor and covered my ears, tears streamed down my face. It continued for a moment and then stopped. I uncovered my ears, and wiped my eyes. I sat in the calm, but it was interrupted by another set of contractions. This time stronger. This might be the one. Why now? I thought to myself. I clenched my belly and fell on my back. What followed was screaming, contracting and pain. A vicious cycle that lasted for what felt like hours, but was really only a minute. Suddenly, I felt wet, my sweatpants became soaked. 

My water broke.

The thudding on the door ramped up again. The beast’s banging was faster and more aggressive. It was trying to break in. It was trying to take my baby. I screamed at the top of my lungs, not sure if it was caused by fear or pain. The door began splitting apart. A hole formed in the middle of the door, and the fowl stopped for a moment to peeked through. I let out another scream. It continued to peck at the hole. I needed to remove my sweatpants or the baby couldn’t come out. When my contractions subsided, I did my best to slip out. My body tensed and I screamed in pain, trying to control my breathing. The sweatpants were almost off but my panties were still in the way. Another contraction stopped my progress and another chunk of door broke off, revealing more of the fowl. It stopped its rampage again to peek through the hole. Even within sight of its beady eyes, I managed to get my panties around my ankles. With my legs now up, I pushed, and screamed, and breathed. Then I pushed, screamed and breathed. The fowl managed to break another piece off of the door, this time it paused but didn't look through the hole. Instead an arm came through, its sweaty, wrinkly, skinny arm reaching for the lock. My pushes, screams and breaths continued, as it tried to unlock the door.

“Please god no, please no.” I said with tears streaming down my cheeks.

Another round and I could feel something new, something was coming. My baby was coming. I pushed harder and harder, took a minute to breathe, and pushed again even harder. The fowl swiped at the lock, and managed to unlatch it. Its skinny, slimy hand retreated back through the hole. I pushed again and could feel more of the baby, but the door knob twisted and slowly opened.

The fowl slowly made its way into the room, its movements not as animalistic. It stood over me just like it did in my dream. My face was covered in tears and sweat, I let out one last push. The fowl crouched down and reached for my baby. Too weak to fight, all I could do was cry.

“Please…don’t take my baby.” I said, unable to lift my head to see what was happening. “Please don’t take my baby!”

The fowl lifted back up, with its arms wrapped around something. It turned towards the door and started to leave.

“Get back here with my baby!”

I looked at the fowl, it turned toward me. Its arms still covered my baby. 

“Please…don’t.”

The beast’s arms lowered, revealing my beautiful child… but there was no child, there was no baby. Only an egg, a brown, blood covered, giant egg. The fowl turned back towards the door and left the room.

My head fell back to the floor, I could only see the ceiling now.

“My baby.”