100-Word Fiction: ‘Chicken’

Apparently the humble chicken
Is the closest living thing
To the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

I heard a woman say it
In the street today
So it surely must be correct.

My thoughts drifted off
To a man I once knew,
A friendship now extinct

It was the accumulation
Of little lies
Over the years.

And the hurtful things
That he would say as jokes
That made it worse.

And the way his own fears
Played out against mine:
It had to stop.

Confirmed first suspicions.

Sometimes I see the chicken
In the old T-Rex
But sometimes the monster in the chicken.


Author: MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. 'Scarecrow', a debut collection of poetry is available now from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

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