Written by the CEO in conjunction with Jessica Lightfoot-Toye

In a sad twist of fate, as Aniello attempted to anticipate the position of the egg Aniello lunged towards where he perceived the egg was heading, unfortunately the egg, sensing that it was his protective father who sought to help him, swooped towards where it perceived the strange humming net would be. This resulted in mutual failure an ungainly and unsuccessful swipe at the ovoid offspring that sent Aniello teetering and ultimately plummeting off the high window ledge onto the hard stone parquet floor below with a sickening crunch.

“Oh dear, oh dear…” Said Rachel quite nonchalantly before swinging herself off the windowsill, from where she half flapped her way safely down to where he lay. Aniello was quite, quite dead, that much was clear. With a half comedic reproach, Rachel lifted her fist and shook it faux angrily in the air at the hovering egg “Now see what you’ve done to your father!” she shouted up towards it. The egg floated a little closer and appeared to bob remorsefully in the air. Rachel then peered down to look closer at her deceased husband. Her avian eye scanned him up and down for several moments before focussing on his caved in head. Then, taking out of her dress a small pair of scissors, she began to make a series of swift incisions, (which, if one were asked for a simile for them, one would say they resembled a pecking motion) into the wreckage of his head.

The blood spattered over her hands, up her sleeves, small bits grey matter flew hither and thither. Then, her eyes acquired a beady triumphant look, and she plunged her hand into the cavity and, after a moment of squelchy rummaging extracted a blood-soaked glistening black stone. Seemingly now oblivious to the hovering child-egg, she held the stone, peered at it intensely, then wiped it clean on her dress. Now with a wide-eyed look of concentration she focussed again on the stone. 

Upon doing so for just a miniscule amount of time, an incredible transformation began to occur. A blue light of a strange pulsating hue began to emanate from Aniello’s corpse. The air around it shimmered in an unearthly azure haze and an ineffably aural hum filled the air. The hum intensified, the light intensified until blue light and noise became one in a quasi-synaesthesic PHZZZZZZZZZZZZT! When this phenomenon subsided, there standing on the court floor was a very large majestic looking cockerel.

For a moment, the bewildered beast stood entirely still as though his incredible transformation  had somehow suspended him within a psychic trance. Rachel, who was already experienced in inhabiting a poultry vessel, rolled her eyes and released an inward sigh. Kneeling down to inspect him more closely, she cast a critical eye over his admittedly beautiful rust plumage which formed a brilliant copper cape which only further accentuated his vividly regal tail feathers. Having made this necessary assessment, she concluded that he was far more visually impressive in this form. Throughout the duration of this process, Aniello/the cockerel had not moved at all. Rachel, unphased, waved a clawed hand back and forth before him but his expression did not change, that is of course assuming that a cockerel would be capable of showing any expression at all. After a couple more pitiful passes, she sighed once more. 

“You really are useless. I see where our child gets it from”

At this remark, the egg-child, which had been quietly hovering above Rachel’s shoulder, swiftly retreated into the canopy of a nearby tree and concealed itself within the dense branches. Rachel pretending not to have noticed, concerned herself solely with the matter at hand. Having briefly pondered how she might break her husband’s trance, she reached behind him and harshly plucked one of his lustrous tail feathers to which he responded with an almighty shriek.

The cry (which was so loud it caused the surrounding palace walls to tremble as though disturbed by seismic activity) sent an unexpected shockwave throughout the kingdom which very much disturbed the many courtiers and local avian population alike. Rachel, wholly displeased by the unnecessary noise, shoved Aniello’s head into a nearby bucket of water. 

“Fool! Stop making such a terrible racket! You only have yourself to blame for this!”

In a dire state of distress, the squawking bird fruitlessly flapped his wings like the proverbial headless chicken, haphazardly striking his clawed toes behind him in an attempt to dissuade the perpetrator of his unjust treatment. When Rachel finally relented and released her grip upon his elongated neck, the drenched Aniello, surprisingly not dead, withdrew his head from the water and appeared to gasp for air. Croaking and choking out of the way, alarm shook him deep within his hollow bones as he caught his reflection within the rippling water. The shrieking then resumed.

“You witch! What have you done to me!?”