CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (feel good novels txt) 📗

one for whom it could.” Raviniel reached for Sekkiel’s hand. “God gave us all a great gift in this little egg, but just in case you’re still feeling guilty…?” Raviniel’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Can you help me maximize the gift?”

Ruthann entered the classroom armed with glossy magazines, a blueprint, and a huge smile. “Good morning, Bill!” Bill fluffed his feathers and regarded her with his head cocked, but he herded the other chicks back into their box. She cleaned up ahead of the kids coming in, then settled them down right away. “I have an exciting announcement. We’re going to have a guest!” Now she had the kids’ attention. “Do you remember Miss Lucy, from the farm where we send our chicks? In twenty minutes, she’s coming to talk to us.”

A girl shot up her hand. “Are we sending the chicks home?”

“We are sending them home, and she’s going to talk to us about it.”

Bill was right up against the edge of the box, watching everything. The girl pointed to him. “He wants to know, too!”

Ruthann grinned. “Of course he does, and I don’t blame him. But he’ll just have to wait.”

Lucy arrived right on time, lugging a full canvas bag. “Let’s talk about houses for chickens!” she exclaimed, and she spread out all her pictures and even produced a scale model of a wooden chicken coop. The kids ran over to Bill and the chicks with pictures and the model to show them what a future home might look like.

Ruthann grinned because Bill did seem interested.

“Chicks, and later chickens, need a safe place. They need space to live—two to three square feet per chicken inside their coop, and eight square feet per chicken outside.” Lucy showed how she secured her coops against coyotes and hawks. The kids were enthralled. Bill seemed pleased. Ruthann kept wringing her hands and fighting the excited feeling inside.

Lucy said, “Usually I take the chicks home, but this year, we’re going to do something special. Guess who’s going to take them?”

Ruthann couldn’t wait any longer. “I am!”

The kids cheered, so she spoke louder. “But I need some help! I can’t decide what kind of coop to build the chickens.”

The room was chaos. The children designed a chicken Versailles for Ruthann’s yard, then kept going over to the chicks’ box to shout their ideas and interpret the chicks’ responses. In the end, Ruthann carried Bill over to the table where the kids had an assortment of catalogs and sample photos. “What about you? You’re going to be living in it, so how about you choose?”

Bill strutted among the choices like a first-time homebuyer assessing curb appeal. He studied the miniature model. He didn’t like the square pens; he liked the ones with stairs and multiple levels. Finally, he stood before the ad for a stand-up chicken coop with a rounded top and three levels for roosting, plus access to an external run, and he pecked it.

Lucy gave a thumbs-up. “He’s got good taste. I can set that up for you in one week.”

Beaming, Ruthann said, “Just in time for them to come home with me.”

Lucy started packing her bag, and Ruthann noticed her necklace—feathers. “That’s a gorgeous pendant. Are you a bird enthusiast?”

“Actually, that’s an angel feather.” Lucy flipped over the pendant to show the other side engraved with a winged human-like figure. “Working with birds is just a side effect of loving things with wings.”

Ruthann glanced at Bill, who had settled back in the box with the other chicks. “I’ve always loved things with feathers.”

Lucy said, “Now you know. They love you too.”

Ruthann prayed, God, if there are any angels around helping us, please tell them thank you. And thank you too for my new chickens, as well as all the fun they’re going to be.

Sekkiel prayed while taking care of the bird sanctuary. Raviniel was spending a midnight hour away from Ruthann, playing with his hummingbirds. He looked brighter. “When Ruthann gets here, she’s going to be amazed. I may change the coop here to look more like the one she has for Bill.” Raviniel summoned a flower to his fingers, and one of the hummingbirds dove over to feed from it, its wings moving almost too fast for an angel’s eyes to track.

Thank you for working this out, Sekkiel prayed. He’s so happy now.

Raviniel touched the hovering bird, and it darted away. “I’ve started whispering to her that she should learn about other birds too, but so far she hasn’t done more than remember the Common Birds of North America book in her classroom. She got a stained glass window hanger in the shape of an angel because it had beautiful wings, though, so maybe someday.” Raviniel stretched. “She doesn’t realize yet, but Bill is a hen. All six are hens, actually, so that makes it easier. God was very good to us.”

You were, Sekkiel prayed. You were better to me than I deserved.

The Holy Spirit replied, Why didn’t you trust me?

Sekkiel shivered as he closed the chicken coop. It was myself I didn’t trust.

Then why not trust that I could fix whatever you broke? The Holy Spirit warmed his heart. I want you to come to me with broken dreams and lost loves. A warm wind ruffled over Sekkiel’s wings, and the Holy Spirit added, You weren’t the only one reaching out for a distant creature hiding in its shell.

The End

About the Author

Jane Lebak writes books and knits socks.

Both are warm, but you can’t have the socks.

janelebak.com

Stray Thoughts

John M. Olsen

Stray Thoughts John M. Olsen

The penthouse apartment and its rooftop garden had been the find of a lifetime.

The balcony looked out across the distant Pacific Ocean, and most days, Delores enjoyed a gentle breeze kissed with the scent of trees from the adjacent park. In all her years, she could never afford such a place before everything fell apart, but now she had everything she