Every morning, before Chicken opens her eyes, she listens. Not for birdsong, or wind, or rain outside, but for the sound of the jar. It sits on her nightstand like a small planet, a jar sealed with a metal cap, holding whatever sky her mind has conjured overnight. Some mornings it glows. Some mornings it grieves. She never knows which world she’ll wake to. Morning opens like a breath. Chicken blinks awake to light, thick and golden, pooling inside the glass jar on her night

Chicken woke to a sound that didn’t belong to morning-a knock, deliberate and impatient, echoing through her chateau like a thought she wasn’t ready to face. The air was thick with sleep and ink. Her notebook still lay open on the bedside table, a half-finished line trembling in the draft. Outside, the first light of dawn spread weakly across the lavender fields, the kind of pale gold that hadn’t made up its mind to be day yet. Another knock. Louder. Feathered with chaos.

The Saturday market hummed with chatter and color, stalls spilling peaches and figs, lavender bundled like prayers, honey jars lined in rows, their light a molten amber caught and held by the sun. Chicken strutted ahead, feathers puffed with pride, while Winnie followed close, a basket of apples tucked against her side. She fiddled with the embroidered edge of her scarf, cheeks warm in the morning air. They were weighing melons when a sharp laugh carried across the square.

The night glowed honey warm over the little French town. From the hill, Chicken's chateau flickered with candlelight, its windows like...

The room is still, except for the steady hum of crickets outside her window. Moonlight threads through the curtains, weaving a pale river...

The day casts long shadows into Chicken's path as she trudges through the town's narrow streets, her satchel weighed down by rejection...

Golden sunlight streams through the windows, spilling over the cozy room like a warm embrace. Outside, birdsong weaves a gentle melody,...

It’s movie night at Chicken’s little chateau. The air is tinged with the scent of fresh pine from the nearby woods, and the soft hum of...

The morning sun drapes its golden cloak over Chicken’s chateau, bathing the porch in warmth. Here sits Caroline, unfolding her paints...

The sun ascends, weaving light into the tapestry of dawn. Rufus, the whimsical rooster, commences his day on his usual perch by...

In the quiet sanctum of her bedroom, Chicken lounges, her feet nonchalantly propped on the side table nestled between two inviting...

Chicken’s chateau sits quietly amid a sea of verdant hills, its soft beige walls glowing gently in the fading light. The peaceful evening...

As twilight drapes its velvet cloak across the horizon, Chicken's steps whisper along the cobblestone paths of her quaint village. The...

In the quiet veil of night, a flutter of bright lights dances past the slightly parted curtains of Chicken's château. The soft glow is a...

It's a bright afternoon in the garden behind Chicken's château. The sun is hanging high in the sky, casting golden rays across the rows...