Hi, excursionists, it's me NARRII First off, an apology. I know
it has been several weeks since you've received anything new for me. I apologize
for this, but unfortunately the job that I took a few months ago has
been keeping me incredibly busy. This should resolve itself in a few weeks,
but my episodes could be a little sporadic in coming out, so I do
ask that you bear with me. Now. I know you're used to me
putting out all kinds of spooky and twist details during the Halloween month. Unfortunately
I just didn't have that kind of time this year. But I do have
a story for you for tonight. I'll leave it up to you to decide
if it's a trick or a treat. So happy Halloween excursionists, and I
look forward to seeing you all out there on that twisted path. Are you
ready? Welcome to Endo the night. I'm Narri, your guide on today's
ex scursion down a twisted path. Be careful not to get lost. Be
it dark or light, it's easy to lose your way. Are you ready?
Then let's begin. The Farmer's Daughter, the Cackling of the Hens,
and the tidy Red coop made the girl smile. The morning was filled with
buzzing bees and flitting butterflies, and an earthy smell blew through the breeze.
The thunder and lightning of the night before were nowhere to be found, and
the sun shone brightly. Thick dew dampened her pink cloth sneakers, but nothing
could dampen Annie Parker's spirits. Her pace quickened as she skipped toward the coop
with a basket swinging from one hand and a bucket of cracked corn from the
other. Reaching the door, she stopped and listened to the flock clucking their
egg song while they set about their daily duty of laying the cream colored ovals
an he was responsible for gathering each morning. She opened the door and the
birds rushed out into the poultry yard. A few late layers scrambled to finish
their business so they could join the others. Hello girls, Annie said,
as she tossed handfuls of corn onto the ground. Oh and you too,
Roscoe. I hadn't meant to leave my handsome rooster out. He crowed in
response, and flapped his wings in an aristocratic manner. You sure think you're
big stuff. Don't you, She giggled as he held his head up high.
Roscoe strutted around the hens, presumably to supervise them. His red comb
and waddles stood out in the bright contrast to the black and white feathers that
ruffled in the slight breeze. You, silly boy, The girls are doing
exactly what they're supposed to do. You just go on and eat. Let
me worry about supervising. Annie walked among the hens, calling each one by
name as she spoke softly. Clementine, you're looking good. And you Eleanor,
you're so pretty. The barred rock hen looked up at her wistfully,
then returned to pecking the ground and scratch the dirt with kicking feet. Eleanor
held a special place in the girl's heart. Some people might find her silly
for talking to her birds, but Annie believed they understood her and loved her
as much as she loved them. Annie looked out across the farm. The
rolling hills of the pasture waved in splotches of yellow and white daisies against the
green grass. A blue heron flew to stop on the bank of the pond
located at the base of the hill that sloped downward from the large Yankee barn.
I'll never stop loving this place, no matter how old I become.
The ruins of the old family log cabin, where her great grandfather was born
over a century ago, stood on the top of the hill, going up
the other side from the pond. She took great pride in those broken down
logs. Annie knew her roots grew deep in this piece of land. She
could feel it. Generations of Parkers and Hillmans lived and died on the three
hundred acres as she loved with all of her heart. Sometimes, she swore
she caught a glimpse of her ancestors going about their daily work on the farm.
She knew that wasn't possible, but it comforted her all the same.
Annie, are you done collecting the eggs? Her mother called from the back
porch. Looking at the empty basket. She knew she needed to get busy.
Not yet, Mama, I'm getting them now. Sorry, girls,
she said to the hens as she cut through their crowd while they scratched.
I need to gather your eggs. I'll be out to see you again later,
though, she giggled as Henrietta and Hazel two Rhode Island. Reds chased
each other about trying to claim ownership of one large earthworm currently in possession of
the big Wyanot Clementine. Many people in the cities wouldn't understand why I enjoyed
this so much, but I wouldn't trade this for anything. At thirteen,
Annie embraced her heritage as a farmer's daughter. Still young enough to feel care
free, she was old enough to appreciate the advantages she had living in the
country. Her younger brothers, Levi and Emmett, ages four and six,
only knew their days were filled with fun and adventure. Someday they too,
would understand the matter. Parker Farms. She carefully gathered the eggs from the
hay filled nest boxes, then walked gently to the farmhouse so she didn't crack
any of her cargo. She climbed the steps to the back porch, opened
the screen door, and walked across the porch into the back entrance of the
kitchen. Here you go, Mamma, I'm sorry, I'm late. You're
fine, Annie, you aren't late. Besides, I know you enjoy spending
time with your birds. The only reason I called you when I did is
because daddy is going into town and thought you might want to join him.
Really, yes, he's going to the feet store and running a few other
errands. If you want to go, you need to scoot. He's waiting
for you at the truck. Her mother chuckled quietly as her daughter raced out
of the house to join her father, who stood in the shade of the
oak tree next to the truck. That old red Chevrolet was her father's favorite.
His father owned it before him, and Jean Parker babied and cared for
it almost as well as if it was one of his prized dairy cows.
Climb on in, Annie, girl, I have a plan. For many
years, she'd been the only child of Ada and Jean Parker. Before her
brothers arrived much later. She'd grown up as her father's farm hand and her
mother's gardening assistant. Annie loved the outdoors, and she loved going on special
outings like the one today. Mama said, you're going to the feed store.
Are we getting more grain? Well? Yeah, but that's not all.
Annie looked at him expectantly. You'll just have to see you when we
get there, won't you. He grinned and ruffled her hair. Trying to
anticipate what her father had in mind, gave her a couple of possible answers,
but each time he told her she'd have to wait and see. Her
excitement made the twenty minute drive seem like an hour. Finally, they pulled
into the parking lot of the MFA feed store that she'd gone with him too
since she was a toddler. Well, howdy, Annie and Jean, what
can I do for you today? Joe stopped stalking the work gloves on the
shelves and stepped out from behind the counter. I need five hundred pounds of
your cattle feed, a one hundred pounds of cracked corn for Annie's chickens,
and let's see. Ye seems like there was something else I came here for.
Daddy. You said you had a plan. Joe winked at Jean.
Oh that's right, Annie, I think your dad did mention something to me
just the other day. Now, what was it? Annie fidgeted, and
both men smiled at her. Okay, I won't keep you in suspense.
Come back with me here. Jean led her through the rows of farm supplies
to the back corner. Well, look you what they have here, he
pointed, at a square box about two feet wide on both sides and six
inches tall. Annie's eyes flew open an incubator. You're getting an incubator,
She jumped up and down in delight. Now, Jean, what would you
ever do with an incubator? Joe stepped behind them and winked at them.
Here, let's go ahead and get these two while you're at it. You'll
need them in about a month. In his hands, he held a heat
lamp and a bag of chicks. Really, Daddy, I get to hatch
some chicks from my girls. Yes, it seems like a good project for
you, and you're old enough to be responsible. You'll need to keep the
temperature and humidity just right, so you'll need to read the instructions. Plus
it will take you about a week to collect enough eggs to fill the incubator.
Looks like you've got yourself a project. Annie hugged her father. Thank
you, Daddy. I figured you'd begged for one long enough, and this
year you can have one. Your mom is saving today's eggs for you,
so in a week you can put this to good use. Annie felt like
it was Christmas. Can I keep them? Yes, you can keep all
of them. That you want to. You can also sell any that you
don't want to keep at the farmer's market. You should be able to get
three dollars a chick. Annie looked at the box the incubator held sixty eggs,
and her eyes grew wide. Wow was all that she could say.
Jean paid for the grain and the incubator loaded their purchases into the truck,
and then pulled away. When he turned toward home, Annie said, don't
you need to do other errands? Nope, I didn't even need the grain
yet. We came to town to get your incubator before they sold out of
them. Joe gave me a call this morning to let me know they were
in. Annie clutched the box that took up her entire lap, and then
some Dad, this is the best gift I have ever gotten. Her father
didn't stop smiling the entire drive home. Annie carefully carried her treasured box into
the house and couldn't stop talking about her excitement. Once she had it opened
and the box emptied, she read the instruction manual over and over. She
only took breaks to eat, do her chores, and spend time with her
flock. Rascoe, you're going to be a daddy. The rooster seemed unaffected
by the news and continued scratching in the dirt, rewarded by whatever treats he
found. He appeared happy without the stress of impending parenthood, miiring him down.
I'd hope you'd been a little more excited, Roscoe rooster. That night,
she was awakened by another thunderstorm. The lightning flashed and the thunder rattled
the glass at her bedroom window. Levi woke up crying from the storm,
and Annie heard her mother walk to the boy's room and comfort them. It's
okay, it's just a storm, nothing to worry about. Ada Parker stayed
with her sons until they fell back asleep, and then she crept down the
hall and went back to bed herself. The next morning, at breakfast,
Ada poured Gean a cup of coffee. Bleary eyed, she yawned and said,
that was some lightning last night. Really, I hadn't noticed. Jean
winked playfully at his wife, who gently slapped him on the shoulder. Annie
chewed a bit of toast. It's the worst lightning we've had in a long
time. I hope it didn't hurt the animals. Don't worry any girl.
I already went out and checked on all of them. The animals were fine,
thankfully. Jean took a bite of his bacon and then washed it down
with a sip of coffee. That was quite the storm, though the night
before wasn't much better. That's why I don't trust weathermen. They didn't predict
storms either night. Mama, I'm done with breakfast. Can I go check
on my chickens and gather eggs? You sure can, remember, do not
put the eggs in the refrigerator. I have a basket on the countertop for
you to put the eggs in for your incubator. Annie hopped up from the
table and ran to the coop with her basket and a bucket of corn for
her beloved birds. Pleased to see that the hens laid more than they normally
did, she brought her trove of eggs back to the house after spending time
checking out each member of the flock. For the next five days, she
repeated the routine, and each day she watched the basket of eggs fill,
from which she would soon fill her incubator as it sat on the kitchen counter.
Each night, storms raged, but no damage came from them. Thank
goodness, there hasn't been any hail that would wipe out a cornfield. Jean
tinkered with the tractor as he talked with his daughter. I remember, back
when I was a boy, we lost our entire crop one year to hale,
and your grandma's garden was beaten to heck too. What did you do?
There wasn't much we could do. We had to tighten our belts and
hope the next year we could do better. That was a lean year.
That afternoon, once the incubator was heated to the correct temperature and reached the
right level of humidity, Annie placed the eggs pointy side down on the rack
inside the incubator. Mark the calendar on the wall, and count exactly twenty
one days from today. Annie, that's when your babies will hatch. Ada
handed her a pencil to use to count off the days. Remember to keep
the humidity right so the chicks develop the way they should. I will,
Mamma. I've read the instructions over and over. She squeezed her mother's hand.
Thank you for letting me do this. I know you could use the
eggs to cook with, and it means a lot that you're letting me hatch
my chicks, Ada hugged her daughter. You are so welcome, honey.
When I was a little girl, I hatched chicks too, and I enjoy
the love you have for farming and your chickens. Days seemed to drag,
but Annie checked off the days on the calendar one by one. The storm
subsided and not a drop of rain fell in three weeks. Now drought,
not hale, was the concern for her father. We sure don't need the
pasture and crops to burn up. Hey, we'll be sky high this winter
if we can't grow more than one cutting the summer. Jean scanned the horizon
for a hint of any cloud while he worked near the milk barn one afternoon.
I know you're worried, daddy. It'll be okay. I know.
I don't want you to worry about it. You have exciting things coming up.
Your chicks should be about ready to hatch. I heard one peeping through
the shell earlier. You'd better go check on them. You don't want to
miss the big event. Not until night time did the eggs begin to hatch.
Annie sat on the floor peering through the plastic window at the top of
the incubator. One by one, tiny beaks pecked through the shells, but
Annie's excitement turned to fear when the young burst forth. She recoiled when she
saw what what are you? You aren't chicks? The naked, gray bodies
of strange creatures writhed in the warm incubator. While they had beaks, wings,
and clawed feet, they scarcely resembled a chick in any other way.
To Annie's horror. They batted their eyes at her and smiled, revealing hideous
teeth otherwise hidden inside their beaks. Their eyes seemed humanoid, and sparse clumps
of hair were scattered across their bodies. The largest ones spoke first. No,
Annie Parker, we aren't chicks, but you've been kind enough to hatch
our eggs. Too bad you thought we'd be chickens. The creatures laughed.
It's too bad you think your chickens are really chickens too. We've been waiting
for a time like this. Our expeditionary forces have lived on this planet for
decades, knowing our opportunity to rise up and conquer Earth when arrive. No,
there is no way this is real. Annie shook and rocked back and
forth. We are very real. Our ship transported us down to Earth,
and what you thought were thunderstorms, we slowly colonized Earth with each storm,
and our numbers became sufficient for our leaders to send young down to hatch.
You've been kind enough and enthusiastic enough to assist us in our invasion. That
was nothing but a thunderstorm. This isn't happening. That was no thunder enlightening
you heard. It was the sound of your doom. What do you mean?
Tears welled up in her eyes. You'll find out soon enough. You
and the rest of the people on this planet. You, Annie, are
quite lucky. However, how the creature looked past her, smiled and nodded
at what was behind her. At that moment, she heard an impact pecking
on the window of the room. A tall creature black and white with a
red comb and wattles, glared at her through the glass, clapping its wings
in an aristocratic manner. Roscoe, no longer the sweet rooster she thought she
owned, now watched over Annie his new pet, as his fellow aliens began
their triumphant rise to power. Thank you for joining me for this episode of
the Into the Night Anthology. Podcast written by Caroline Giamanco, narrated by Nari
Quak, theme music by Nico Rodriguez, all other original music, sound design
and editing by Omenhawk Studios. You can find our links in the show notes.
Into the Night is on your favorite podcatcher, so make sure to like,
subscribe, and leave a five star review to help other excursionists to join
us. I'll see you next time, and remember, whether in the shadows
or in the daylight, all twisted paths lead you into the night. Into
the Night Anthology is a creative typo entertainment production