The tale of Amefurikozō
This somewhat-twisted tale has nothing to do with faeries, or even about the chicken. Well it started with the chicken, things always start somewhere. A chicken you might not know in your world, but in Mah, a land of the little creatures and of the big creatures, of dangling hands and trees with a 100 eyes, of things you have only dreamed about. But we’ll get to all those intricacies in due time.
In Mah, the Chicken was not only a known creature, but he was also greatly feared. This fire breathing chicken went by the name of Basan. His modus operand, albeit always constant, was highly effective. You see, he had a simple approach, not by choice I am sure, but simplicity, you will come to learn, is one of life’s most precious tools. And, what you will also come to learn, is that not all tools we come across are used for good.
You see, the town folk of Mah might have lived in fear of Basan, but they lived in reckless fear, and a reckless life always holds consequences. Consequences, my friend, that need to be learnt.
This is what life is about. Some of it at least. Beauty, pain, mistakes, lessons, rewards, risks, smiles and first loves, soul mates, dancing in rain and lying in the sun. And then all over again, with more. No order and no certainties. The sooner you realize this, boys and girls, grannies and grandpas, moms and dads, the more magical life becomes.
One can image that living amongst the fire breathing chicken, and the other haunting creatures in Mah, that the lifestyle of the strange little folk of Mah was all together somewhat questionable. One such example was their Thursday night gathering. This was a time of crude carnivalesque indulgence; a night of celebrating nothing in particular and everything at once.
A charged circuit of strange creatures dancing merrily; their shiny feet all one toe short. A sight this made indeed. You see, without all your toes, dancing becomes ever more entertaining to watch. This unusual – to us at least – Toe Conundrum might have made witnessing the wee Mah folk dancing amusing, it was also conundrum that Basan took advantage of.
The chortles, murmurs, sniggers, occasional grunts, much laughter and some piercing shrieks began to dissolve into glitchy echoes as the waning moon begin to fade. Echoes that would spend the week hiding amongst the prickly pear forest that towered around Rah - a forest of secrets and a forest one did not venture in. It kept the trespassers out, and the town folk in.
The echoes, hiding amongst the prickly leaves and mile roots, would wait anxiously until Thursday arrived, distracting the little folk and causing a bit of frenzied behavior. As the echoes began to rustle in exciting they signaled to the Chicken Monster that the evening would hold much excitement, tragic for the folk but satisfying for Basan.
For Thursday evening, as the chaos crumbled and the wee folk wandered home in the dark, was the time for Basan to do to his own little dance. A dance of fire. A dance with consequences.
