(Editor’s note: SHORT SHOTS is a column where I review short stories from horror anthologies, collections, and zines.)
SPOILER ALERT!
I like receiving newsletters in my email from my favorite horror writers, and one of the best is The Fear County Chronicle by Splatterpunk Award-winning author Ronald Kelly. His newsletter provides an introspective and sometimes painfully honest look into an aging horror writer’s journey along with an interesting historical perspective and commentary about the horror genre itself.
In The Fear County Chronicle #40, the Tennessee author treats us to a short story titled “The Hatchling,” a dark tale showcasing his brand of Southern Fried Horror. It may be the scariest story about a chicken’s egg that I’ve ever read. First published in Tri-State Fantasist #2, “The Hatchling” is also available in Kelly’s 2010 collection Dark Dixie.
Told from the first-person POV of a 74-year-old farmer, “The Hatchling” begins with the farmer and his wife finding a hen “split in two … from the inside out” in their chicken coop. Apparently, the hen laid an egg “the size of a coconut.” However, this is no ordinary egg. “It was slick as a black pearl. You could see your reflection in its surface; the shell was so shiny.”
The discovery leads to the farmer’s fateful decision to keep the egg. “I was kind of curious as to what sort of chicken would hatch out of such a strange egg.” If curiosity killed the cat, what hatches from a coconut-sized, sulfur-smelling black egg is likely to kill a lot more. I totally related to the farmer’s “let’s see what happens” approach because it’s exactly what I would do. A huge reason why I enjoyed the story is because Kelly nails the voice of the old country farmer with his plainspoken thoughts (“I reckon,” “I oughta”) and Southern slang (“a’tall,” “dadblamed”).
Once the egg hatches, the farmer immediately senses the danger caused by the event even if he doesn’t know its full significance yet. “I had never, in all my years of living on that farm, locked the doors of my own house. I did that night, however, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I had done so.”
Kelly’s ability to unveil the slow reveal amidst a pall of dread is masterful as strange deaths occur over the coming weeks in the aftermath of objects disappearing from the farm … sharp objects. The story’s denouement features a shocking wakeup call for the farmer, propelled by the inevitable final confrontation between man and beast.
Despite the creature-feature tone of the tale, “The Hatchling” made me wonder if there was more beneath the surface, particularly in regard to cockfighting. I couldn’t help but return to an earlier paragraph about the farmer’s guilt over his involvement in the so-called sport. “When I was a younger man my association with chickens was not so innocent. There was a time when I had quite a reputation among the local sportsmen as a first-class breeder of champion fighting cocks. However, I sickened of that blood sport as I grew older and wiser and, much to the relief of my wife Margret, gave it up for honest work.”
Could that tidbit of the farmer’s background — seemingly revealed in passing — be the impetus for the egg hatching at his chicken coop? Add in the method of the killings (which you have to read to discover), and the karma theory gains more traction. Whatever the case, the Pumpkinhead vibes are strong with this one.
Perhaps “The Hatchling” is a straight-up monster story, but the fact it could very well be a cautionary tale about curiosity killing the cat and punishment for past deeds demonstrates the storytelling talent of Kelly and reinforces his reputation as a master of Southern horror fiction.
LIONEL RAY GREEN 