Flash Fiction: A Wayne Donald and Kinley Chris Adventure
Wayne Donald stares outside their upstairs bedroom window. She is scratching the curly, messy knot of hair on her head while she huffs and breathes outwardly in exasperation.
“You gon’ tell Charlie ’bout them chickens of theirs cluckin’ about in the yard again, Kinley Chris, or do I have to put on my knickers and go on over there and do it myself?”
Wayne Donald is in rare form this morning. It is a raging hot Sunday in the depths of the South, and wandering chickens are the last things she wants to deal with the day before going back to school. The girls had been out for Christmas break, enjoying every moment of freedom their grandmother would allow, and now… the countdown to back-to-school has begun.
“Who out there?! Which ones? Some, I don’t mind. I put some chicken feed out near the fence yesterday morning—might be sopping that up.”
“Looks like Helen, Lucy, and Quack.” She squints her eyes to look closer outside of their upstairs bedroom window—zooming in with imaginary binoculars. “Yeah… that’s definitely Helen, Lucy, and Quack.”
Kinley Chris looks up from an adventurous book she had been reading, keenly stares at her younger sister, and nods in approval.
“Long as it’s not those other demon birds, I say, let them be. Charlie Rhett and ‘nem are at church anyway at this hour. It ain’t no need bangin’ on their door about some harmless chickens just cuz you don’t like the way they cluck.”
“They irritate me, Kinley Chris, and I just can’t take it. Why you gotta put that chicken feed out on Sunday mornings when I wanna sleep in?”
“Who are you to tell me where and when to put chicken feed, Wayne Donald? It’s late morning, and you shoulda been up about an hour ago anyway. Don’t get on my bad side before noon.”
Wayne Donald shuffles off to her bed, plops her flimsy body back down, tucks her face underneath the sheets, and fake-sobs. Through the sheets, she continues her argument with her big sister.
“I’m just sayin’… they cluck and squawk and make so much noise while they’re eatin’, Kinley Chris. How can you even read with all that racket walkin’ in through the window?”
“You were just up, Wayne Donald. You could’ve closed the window, silly. They aren’t that loud, and it’s too early to be complainin’. Get yourself a few more winks in, and I’ll go downstairs in a bit and fetch us some breakfast. If Helen, Lucy, or Quack laid some eggs, we’ll have us a mighty fine batch of eatin’.”
To this, Wayne Donald does not debate. She turns over, snuggles up into a ball, and closes her eyes. “Fifteen more minutes,” she says. “Fifteen more minutes.”
Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part V.
This piece is my offering for this week’s Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge, #353. I love it when these two sisters start speaking to me. When I saw the prompt roll out this past Monday, and those chickens staring back at me, I said, “Ha! Wayne Donald and Kinley Chris,” so here we are. Thank you so much for reading.
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A Cornered Gurl 
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