The Golden Eggs That Feed on Blood

After my father died, the hen in our yard suddenly started laying golden eggs.

The gold egg sat on the table, bright and gleaming.

So bright it nearly blinded me.

But my mother stared at my father's memorial photo, weeping as she spoke.

"Your old man knew how poor we were. He couldn't stand the thought of me suffering here alone."

"Last night he came to me in a dream, on purpose, and sent this hen that lays golden eggs."

"He said it plain: whichever child treats me best, that's who gets to keep the hen!"

My brother and I glanced at each other, the excitement plain on both our faces.