Marie Lynn was a rather ordinary girl. Ordinary, yes, with a rather peculiar hobby. It must’ve started when she was very young, her fascination with dead things. You could say that it was fate, luck, or misfortune. Whatever the case may be, Marie Lynn treasured her tokens— every single one tucked into its special place in her drawers.
It must’ve started when she was very young. Her father, Daniel Lynn, a farmer and butcher, would wrangle up cattle outside on their farm. Her mother, Darling Lynn, would knit whilst her husband worked. Darling knew that her daughter was ordinary. Pin straight hair, thin lips, long features. “She got that from her father,” Darling Lynn would think to herself. Darling thought herself to be the most beautiful woman in Radford. From her bouncy, curls, her youthful glow, her dainty nose. She prided herself on being anything but ordinary.
One day, while Daniel Lynn was doing his usual work on the farm, Marie Lynn snuck out of her home and spied on her father, hidden within the back of their barn. She peered inside, it occurred to her that she’d never seen for herself what it was that her father did. There was no way she could’ve known. Marie Lynn watched as her father hacked away at the chicken, a frail scrawny thing, “You’re no good to me, chicken.” Marie Lynn heard her father say. The squeals reverberated inside the tiny barn, stirring up the rest of the animals within it. Howls and caws echoed as Marie Lynn’s eyes were glued to the hatchet within her fathers hand, she watched as it pulled away— collecting feathers and blood. The way it appeared to gleam from the reflection of the sun that poured into the small windows of the barn. She couldn’t look away. Her stomach churned, she wished to save the poor animal, though it was far too late.
Marie Lynn’s eyes fixated on the animal, watched as the blood continued to pool, watched as its life slowly dimmed— fleeting towards the space that is still a mystery to the living.
Her father walked out, leaving the remains laid out on the table. Marie Lynn approached the lifeless animal. “You poor thing,” she whispered to it, “had I known, I would’ve tried to save you. I’m so sorry.” She lifted its tiny head, it came clean off. She held the tiny creature’s head in the palm of her hands, recalling that just moments ago it was brimming with life. Marie Lynn heard the entrance door of the barn pry open. Panicked, she carefully held onto the small chicken’s head, clutching it towards her chest, and ducked for cover.
Later that evening, while Darling Lynn and Daniel Lynn were fast asleep, Marie Lynn took the chicken’s head into their washroom— cleaned it as best she could. She knew she needed to keep it.
And that is precisely what she did.
The Earthbound Misfit 