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Once upon a time, there was a happy chicken full of life and full of joy. The eWorld was a funny place, plenty of colours, birds and flowers, a place where he love to live in. He had a beautiful girlfriend, a fast car and a great job; Chicken felt so lucky to work in this enterprise because this was a place where he could make people feel good, to make people enjoy playing. This place was eRepublik, of course.



There was a Halloween night when everything happened. Chicken was working on the night shift, trying to solve some ‘bugs’ that were disturbing the players; nothing so serious. He was relaxed in his comfortable office chair, thinking about his girlfriend wearing fine lingerie, when a light switched on the control pannel. It was so strange because this light showed a problem in area 51, in the basement, a place that was empty (CIA agents took the last two alien corpses that morning); nobody was working there that night. Chicken spent some seconds looking fixed to the brighting light, asking himself why it was happening it in that moment, when the clock rang and announced the midnight hour. He standed up, put his trousers on, belched for ten seconds (leaving a distinctive odor) and took his maintenance tools, walking to the elevator whistling a funny song.



When he arrived to area 51, everything was very quiet. Rats were on holidays in Boca Ratón (Florida) and they weren't running by the corridors. Was so cold there; Chicken could see his breath when breathing (and smelled so bad). He took a mint candy and started to walk to the room at the end of the corridor. The lights where on when he pushed the door. It was all so strange because the company was promoting a policy of energy saving. He walked to the control pannel of this floor: the switch for ‘Alarm’ was on. Somebody did it. But... who? And why? This questions were reverbering in his mind when he began to smell a horrible odor; not horrible as the farts that had been pulling that night (he had eaten chili for dinner), it was worst, like rotting flesh, like no hope for men (or chicken)... like death. He recognized the smell because that was using his girlfriend as car freshener. Chicken began to examine the room when he heard a clang behind him. A dense smoke began to fill the room. He turned to see what was there and he saw and creepy image: Death was looking directly to his eyes. That was a strange sensation because Death was wearing a long black cloak and his face was covered with the deepest darkness that Chicken had never seen; he couldn’t saw his eyes. But Chicken felt like a cold air tore his chest, felt like he was breathing blades that were bounding him and were increasingly close to his heart.

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- Chicken, I came to claim your life- Death said. His voice was deep and dark, like a preacher talking about Hell.
- Wow!- Chicken said. - What a spectacular appearence - and he started to clap his wings (he had no hands; was a chicken).
- I've been taking acting classes.- The voice was still dark, but with a point of pride.- Now, die, please. I've got a date in the battlefield; Personahumana will start fighting in ten minutes.
- I cannot die yet, man. I have tickets to see ‘Cirque du Soleil’ next Saturday.
- You are on my list, Chicken. Then, you have to die.
- But this is bad for health. No, I can not accept. But thank you so much.

Chicken took his tools and started to walk to the door. He was crossing fingers and watching Death’s scythe from the corner of the eye.

- Wait a second.- Death said.- You can not go anywhere.

But chicken was not listening. He was running faster than ever in his life, with blood pumping in his ears and feeling as if he was breathing crystals.

The corridor was dark as the armpit of a cricket and long as Heidi's childhood in this moment for Chicken, but he did not stop running faster and faster. Death was was yelling him to stop and die, but he was thinking that was not a good idea. And he failed, stumbling and falling on the floor just when he reached the elevator. He fell back, filling his whole body scratched and sore. Then, he looked to the corridor: Death was running not so fast toward him (his black dress because was an obstacle for his legs). Chicken tried to push the button to the third floor. He could have tried to press the button to the ground floor, but he was thinking on buy a chocolate bar on the candy machine on the third floor because had chestnuts. But he failed... again (what a failer!) and he pushed the button to close door but they caught him by the neck. Death arrived with all his fury and breathless ("I'm too old for this stupid things", he was saying to himself) and pointed with his cold and fleshless finger to Chicken's face to threaten him.



- You make me run. No person made me running for no reason since I was going to gym classes at school. Then, you have to suffer.
- Is it really necessary? I don't like to suffer. It's true, you can ask my friends about it...
- Shut up, chicken! Prepare your soul for death.

Death raised his scythe and threw it in a quick movement, cutting off his head with one accurate gash.

Death was smiling with his new trophy in his hand. Blood was painting the floor in red around his feet. He put the head inside a bag that he took from his pocket. He was closing the bag when his cellular started ringing; was difficult to put the phone to his ear as he held the bag in one hand and his scythe in the other.



- Hello. Death is talking.
- Hi, Death, I'm Peter, Saint Peter.
- Hey, Pete, old boy, what’s up?
- Listen to me, Death, the sizar has made ​​a mistake with your list for today. There are two people you don't have to kill. One of them is Justin Bieber...
- What the…! But I really want to kill him!
- All of us want to kill him, but we are preparing something special for him. Think on something with bananas.
- Ok, it sounds funny. Who's the other?
- Chicken McChick.
- Oops!
- What did you do?
- I'm afraid that I cut his head.
- Mmmmm... So radical. What can we do now?- Phone line was silent for a few seconds.- Ok, listen to me: you are not going to say anything about this mistake (we have a reputation to maintain). Give Chicken back to life, but you have to convince him that he has been a bad boy and he has to pay for his sins with his head.
- Like a damm...
- Yes, that's the idea. Call me back when you finish the work. Bye!
- Bye, man.

Death blowed and looked to the bag in his hand. He did not want to give any explanation and decided to leave a note for his victim, he programmed Chicken’s back to life for five minutes after he left the place.

Chicken woke up lying on the floor. He was dirty and sore, but... alive! Anyway, something was not right. He tried to scratch his scalp... and he couldn't find it! He was terrified until he found Death's note and read it. He settled down and was happy to calculate the amount of money you would save hairdressing and he returned home to explain to his girlfriend the strange event.

After this day, Chicken was known as Headless Chicken, and still works for Plato for the same success (ehem... you know) and he commemorated that strange event wearing a pumpkin as headed every Halloween.



THE END

"This story/poem/etc. participates in the Halloween Community Contest (link: http://forum.erepublik.com/index.php?/topic/1708-halloween-the-spookiest-story-contest/)"