I was going to go with something feathery and terrifying because, if you’ve ever met a chicken, you know they can be feather and terrifying. But somewhere in the past couple of days, I happened to view a PSA about not venturing through a railroad crossing when the warning signs were down, and that became this microfiction piece.
Day 14: Chickens
Come on, do it! Just do it! What are you, a—
“Fuck you, all right?” Cash flipped his friends off, then dropped his hand to the stick shift and yanked the old Jeep into neutral.
Against the backdrop of his friends whooping and getting out their cell phones to stream the moment, Cash looked back and forth.
The red lights flashed back and forth. The bells clanged.
Everything was still empty in both directions. There was just enough of a gap for him to swing the beast around.
He almost hoped would catch a glimpse, give him a reason to slam on the brakes. But no, the coast remained clear.
“Do it, DO it, do IT, DO IT!”
For just a second, he heard his dad’s voice over the din his friends were making.
No, Cash, don—
He pressed the clutch, shifted to first.
Cash.
The Jeep leapt toward the tracks.
* * *
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