The Day That Should Have Never Been

The chicken was at the mercy of the butcher. The more it tried to get away, the more it was reminded of the reality.
The butcher was at the mercy of the alcohol he drank. The more he tried to forget it, the more he got addicted.
The alcohol was at the mercy of the butchers body, the more it tried to affect him, the more it realized its disappearance with the butcher's death.

The day looked bright. The shop was attracting customers.

The chicken was about to be cut. Butcher held the chicken with one hand while he raised the knife with the other.

The strike was quick. The bright sun was stained with blood.

The chicken was alive on the table. The butcher's hand gripped it tight. The butcher fell on his back. His hand was still on the table.

He should not have drunk the morning.
But repenting would not help.

The butcher fell on his back. Much to the dismay of his customers, he did not get up.

The customers moved to the next shop.

The chicken slowly freed itself from the clutches of the lifeless hand. It jumped from the table onto the limping body of the butcher.

The doctor pronounced the butcher dead. Death was but natural.