A cracked eggshell lay abandoned in the dirt, covered in strange black markings, as if someone had used it for a forgotten curse. The spellcaster was long gone, leaving the shell to break on its own. From within, a tiny chick emerged, its downy feathers damp and clinging to its frail body. But something was wrong. Its eyes were not the bright, curious beads of a newborn bird—they were deep, black voids, empty yet aware.
Instinct took over. The chick's razor-sharp claws scraped the ground, searching for worms. It pecked hungrily, devouring anything it could find. But as it moved through the overgrown grass—blades towering five times its size—a shadow loomed above. A massive python slithered silently, locking its cold gaze on the helpless prey below.
With a sudden lunge, the snake struck. Its powerful coils wrapped around the tiny chick, and in a single gulp, it swallowed it whole. The chick did not struggle. It did not panic. It simply disappeared into the snake's throat, crushed by the tightening muscles, its fragile body dissolving in the creature's acidic stomach.
An hour passed. The python lay still, basking, its belly full. But inside, something stirred. The half-digested chick twisted and convulsed, its broken form merging with the very acid that sought to consume it. Slowly, the shapeless mass restructured. A mouth formed—a grotesque, saw-toothed spiral of gnashing fangs.
Then it bit.
The python recoiled, writhing violently. A sickening crunch echoed as the lump inside it chewed through muscle and organs. The snake heaved, desperate to regurgitate its unnatural meal, but it was too late. Within moments, its insides were devoured, its body collapsing in on itself. The grasslands fell silent as the python's lifeless skin lay motionless.
Then, the mass moved.
It slithered, pulsed, and then—reshaped.
Feathers sprouted, bones realigned, and the chick emerged once more. But now, it was larger. Stronger. Its black feathers gleamed under the sunlight, absorbing the light rather than reflecting it.
For the first time, it made a sound.
"Coo… Coo… Cooooo…"
The voice was unnatural, stretching through the silence like a whisper from the grave.
It walked.
---
The cursed chicken entered a village, its soulless eyes scanning its surroundings. Human voices echoed between homes. A large, feral dog, usually fearless, stood stiff at the sight of the strange bird. Then, it growled—a deep, guttural warning. But the chicken did not flinch. It took a step forward.
The dog's growl faltered. Its ears flattened, its body trembled, and with a whimper, it turned and ran. The villagers whispered among themselves, unsettled by the sight.
One man, however, saw something else.
Meat.
A free, ownerless chicken wandering into his village? Surely, it was a gift from the gods. He licked his lips, already imagining the feast. Hiding behind a tree, he waited for the chicken to lower its guard. But before he could move, the bird's head snapped in his direction.
A shiver ran down his spine.
Impossible.
It was just a chicken.
Shaking off his unease, he stepped forward. The chicken did not flee. It did not cluck in alarm. Instead, it walked toward him—calmly, deliberately—then sat at his feet.
A perfect catch.
With a grin, he grabbed it. No struggle. No resistance. The bird simply allowed itself to be taken.
It's just a chicken, he reminded himself, pushing down the nagging unease.
At home, he prepared the meal with his wife. The chicken's neck was slit, yet not a single sound came from it. It simply bled, lifeless, as if it had been dead long before he caught it. Still, he dismissed the thought and continued. The feathers were plucked, the meat cleaned, the organs discarded. His wife seasoned the cuts with spices, and soon, the air filled with the rich, mouthwatering aroma of a well-prepared meal.
At the dinner table, his family—his wife, daughter, and aging parents—sat together, eager to eat. As they took their first bites, their expressions melted into bliss.
The taste was beyond anything they had ever known.
Rich. Tender. Divine.
If this were their last meal, they thought, they would die happy.
And they did.
---
Inside their stomachs, the meat reformed.
What had been chewed, swallowed, and digested did not break down—it gathered, shaped, and pulsed. Their insides twisted. Screams tore through the air as the family clutched their stomachs, agony ripping through them. Their bodies convulsed as something inside gnawed at their flesh.
Neighbors ran to see what was happening, but when they arrived, they froze in horror.
The five family members were no longer human.
Their bodies were hollow—only empty skin remained, sagging and lifeless. But within, something writhed.
From their gaping mouths, a dark, pulsing mass slithered out, merging into a larger, shifting form. It twisted, convulsing, reshaping, until it stood—a monstrous bird, now the size of an ostrich.
Its black feathers gleamed, dripping with an unnatural sheen.
Then, it tilted its head back.
And it sang.
"Coooo… Coooo… Cooooo…"
A sound of pure, eerie satisfaction.
Then, it walked.
Looking for its next prey.