I remember one night when the air was very clear and dry. When I first went to bed it was cool and there was a slight northerly wind. I could see for miles over a panoramic view of the city. below.

Layers of atmosphere rolled like waves and city lights twinkled in the darkness. Strange sounds drifted on the wind, and faded into silence. The sky was black with thousands of stars, all little lights and worlds of their own. There were bands and ripples of thin high clouds like white ghosts flying across an empty sky. My own little world felt tiny, and insignificant against the vastness that surrounded us. I knew how small and unsafe I was when I looked up there.

The wind picked up a little. A tree branch scratched against the wooden house. I tried to ignore it, but the uneasiness clutched at me. And then I heard other crying or humming noises like some creature slowly dying.

We ate our own chickens back then. I often watched my father behead them with an axe. I didn’t like it, and couldn’t forget the horrible sight. Something out there sounded just like a thrashing headless chicken.  What could it be?