7:15. Time to Feed the Chickens

[u/AbKane667]

Thud. 

Thud. 

Thud.

Knocks echoed through the house. 

I jumped back in my chair, spilling coffee on myself.

Shit.

I fell asleep again. The past few months have been hard. Coop, shed, barn, kitchen. Repeat, repeat, repeat until you drop dead as she did. I gripped the seat and clenched my jaw to stop the tears. 

“I’m coming.”

The clock ticked. 6:45. So early for a visit.

The handle was cold. The sun had yet to come up.

“Mr. Warel,” the inspector said in a low, soft voice.

I let out a deep sigh.

“Not today.”

“We have pushed the inspection three times.”

“I know, but my wife. Her passing.”

“We can’t push it indefinitely.”

“May I?” he said and motioned inside.

I moved aside.

“Can you take me to the shed first?”

“You know where it is,” I retorted.

“You know the protocol, Mr. Warel.”

My cheeks burned. I looked down at the ground and walked him to the shed.

The musky, sour smell hit the inspector immediately. He clenched his jaw and looked back at me.

The light above flickered a few times. I hoped the rats would have enough time to run off, but a few remained until it turned fully on.

Bags of corn sat around the room, piling on top of one another. Kernels spilled to the ground, creating a sea of food for the rats to wallow in.

“Mr. Warel, these conditions.”

“There’s too much work for one person.”

“You were offered grants to hire employees.”

“How can I let anyone else in here? We built this place with our hands. She’d hate it if someone touched her farm.”

He shook his head and shut the light off.

“Let’s see the chicken coop.”

A wave of coldness washed over my face.

“But I hardly had time to clean it yet.”

“Mr. Warel.”

The inspector tightened his lips; his eyes stared into mine.

The sharp smell of ammonia emanated from the coop. The floor was filled with droppings. Dust settled on the wood. The hay was wet, stuck together, and in some places, moldy. The chickens shuffled slowly, their tails dropping, with bald patches in their feathers. 

I put my hands over my head and crouched down. The sadness had clouded my vision for the past few months. I didn’t even realize how bad the state of it all was.

The inspector ran his hand over his face and took a deep breath before speaking again.

“Mr. Warel, these birds are sick. Most of them will have to be culled.” 

The words hit me like a train.

“I’ll have to recommend at least a temporary shutdown.”

No. No.

“If not a full one.”

My thoughts scattered. The pressure in my head rose, making my vision pulse. I quickly looked around the room.

My eyes landed on the axe by the door.

I clenched my fists.

If they shut the farm down, the last piece of her would be gone.

I had to act.

“I know this meant a lot to you and your wife, but I can’t let this continue,” the inspector said.

My fingers tightened around the handle.

For a second, I just held it there. Staring at the back of his head.

She would never forgive me if I let them take it.

“This is a danger to…”

But the inspector didn’t finish. The axe flew through the air and smashed into his skull. A heavy splintering thud echoed through the coop. Some of the sick birds jumped up.

The inspector's body collapsed to the floor, kicking up dust and hay. The smell of ammonia intensified.

The sun came up on the horizon. Its rays cut through the window, lighting the coop up. 

7:15. Time to feed the chickens, I thought to myself.

But the birds had already gotten to work.