His grandmother warned him, but he took no notice. Had he not seen his grandfather do it a hundred times. How hard could it be to chop the head off a chicken?
The old hen clucked in his arms, unaware of what was about to happen. 'There, there, soon be over I promise'. He placed her on the bench and picked up the cleaver. No going back. The boy surprised himself with his speed. He pulled the hen's head forward and swung the cleaver down. The sickening crunch numbed him. There was blood everywhere, but no chicken.
Maybe I should try and write more flash stories. It was quick and fun.
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