Well, this is kind of a spur-of-the-moment project! In an effort to find a new, dynamic, adventurous, daring story to write, I found myself zapped dry of ideas. Until, of course, I watched my chickens out in the yard. More specifically, when I saw my "mild-mannered" BO glaring at me Inspired by a chicken, who'd of thunk! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story! I'm hoping to continue it in several installments if I, uh, don't get banned for horrible writing Amber's Summer: The Great Escape Deep in the semi-darkness came a crisp creak, a rasp of metal grating on wood, then silence. The dusty blackness was eerily devoid of sound, leaking into every corner of the chamber with its shadowed tendrils of gloom, poking and prodding until the tortured room had given itself over to the dark influence. There was a pause, then the stark, solitary door slid slowly and deliberately away from the dank structure, clinking messages of uneasiness as it withdrew. All was silence. Not a single noise could be perceived in this desolate place of gloom. Except, of course, for the loud, demanding complaints from the hens crammed against the door, offering enough psi to squash an elephant. They squirmed and squealed, jumping over one another in their haste to be just one feather-length closer to the opening that promised a glorious paradise of sunshine, soft dirt, and delectable moldy compost. Such thoughts only caused the prisoners to screech louder, even as a shaft of delicious light crept into the darkened chamber. At the very front of the seething crowd, Amber glared at the door, demanding it to open faster. It had no right to keep her from the riches of the outside world, from the open fields and the neighbors bird seed. A second was too long. Cackling with impatience, she lowered her head, and charged. The crevice sprung open at her applied force, and she barreled over the shoes of the almighty giver of mushy-gooey-yummy-everything-but-chocolate-stuff, paying no attention to its pitiful cries of pain. A huge jumble of legs and feathers followed as the other hens tried to disentangle themselves, not having anticipated the consequences of barricading against the door. There were more important things to contemplate than the laws of energy conservation. As the mass of chickens dispersed, Amber stood defiantly and gazed surreptitiously over her domain, fluffing her plumage. The warm, caressing breeze carried with it the song of the birds dining at the neighbors feeders, leaving her tail a little windswept. There was much to do. Summer was here, and she was going to employ herself into the career of a spoiled-rotten free range hen. Dust baths, snitches of grass, and brisk jogs around the acres marked a life full of harsh trials and flirts with danger! It was hard life, but she craved adventure. Perhaps, she thought, turning away from her immaculate coop and constant supply of food, water, and kitchen spoils, she would be up to such a hard life style. After all, Amber clucked to herself, this was her summer. Ambers summer.