Killing a Chicken#
Today I killed a hen, and I was responsible for plucking its feathers and gutting it. I filled a bucket with hot water from the noon sun and submerged the chicken in it. After a minute, I pulled out the scalding hot chicken and began plucking its feathers.
The hot chicken lay on the cement floor, with its neck and head lying still. As I plucked a clump of feathers, yellow skin was revealed. I suddenly noticed that the chicken's face was also yellow. When you observe a chicken up close, you can actually make out a face.
Perhaps it was the influence of the snake with a human face from the Korean movie "The Grave Robber" that I watched a few days ago, but I quickly plucked all the feathers and then made a cut in its abdomen. I reached into the warm chest cavity of the chicken and slowly pulled out all its internal organs.
I saw that this chicken had some butter near its anus and a small red mark about the width of a pinky finger on its abdomen. I peeled back the skin and flesh and discovered that it was indeed not a disease, but rather a birthmark on the chicken's skin.
Then, I carefully cut off the anus and the long string of internal organs from the chicken's body. To avoid cutting the intestines, I intentionally made a larger cut.
There was still a heart, a fecal sac, and a somewhat unhealthy liver in the internal organs. I cut open the fecal sac with a knife and found that it was filled with food eaten in the morning, mostly cornmeal and some fine grains of sand. After tearing off the yellow membrane and cleaning it, I put everything back into the chicken's body and prepared to give it to my grandmother.
This chicken was small, but its leg was slightly lame. So I decided to kill this one first and make a hen soup.
I had noticed this lame-legged chicken before. Yesterday, it was still foraging on the road, but today it has already been slaughtered.
Killing a Chicken and Killing a Human#
It was once said that killing a human would lead to descending into the 18 layers of hell. I don't like this kind of scare tactic. Does killing a chicken not lead to descending into the 18 layers of hell? Or perhaps neither killing a chicken nor killing a human leads to descending into the 18 layers of hell? What is the difference between humans and chickens? Is it the size of intelligence or the level of strength? If intelligence is the standard, then some mentally disabled people are even inferior to chimpanzees; if strength is the standard, then it is reasonable to kill both chickens and humans due to their weakness; if descending into hell is the standard, who determines the value of killing chickens and killing humans?
And if we look at killing chickens and killing humans from an external perspective, the reason why killing humans is not allowed is because of the collective: laws, morals, and religion. But the power granted by this collective also means that when these norms allow it, you can kill wantonly, and others can take your life without any hindrance.
The reason why humans can kill chickens is because it is allowed by the collective, to be precise, it is allowed by the human collective. We often think that morality exists within the collective, but the scope of this collective can expand. The conditions for expansion are another question.
Therefore, if necessary, I will not hesitate to trample on any laws, rules, or morals. This statement may sound dark, but as humans living in society, there are some rules that are impossible to trample on, regardless of my personal will. Although killing chickens for various reasons is a normal thing, it is difficult to conceal the emptiness of collective significance. The moral edifice of the ostrich that we have constructed is so self-deceptive.
The Impact of Slaughter#
After personally killing a life, all the dogmas, values, rules, and morals of the world seem like clowns.
This is a virus, a coldness from the depths of my heart that extinguishes all desire for life. This extremely bloody scene wakes me up from the illusion of existence. Wakes me up from the beautiful dreams woven by society. The graceful lady turns into a pile of bones, the mountains of meat and seas of alcohol turn into a stomach full of excrement and urine. Whether it is a humble gentleman or an innocent child, at this moment, they all feel emptiness. Only silence and numbness remain after the breathless silence and heartbeat.
Many people have only seen the white flesh, but have never thought about its origin. When we are driven by hunger, we never imagine that the meat we eat was once a living creature playing and laughing. When I piece together the memories of eating meat in its primitive form, I recall all the scenes of life and death, and truly reexamine life. Perhaps some people think that I am the one being carved on the chopping board, being treated as fish and meat, and that humans are at the top of the food chain, where the survival of the fittest reigns. But under this rule, all lives are just links. In the camp of strength and weakness, there is no strongest, only stronger; there is no eternal chopping board, only eternal fish and meat. And those who are treated as fish and meat are forever deceived by the illusion of the strong.
This is a world woven with lies and illusions, where reality hides in the depths of emptiness. Driven by desire, I fall into long-lasting pleasure. Is it like pigs and sheep, after the pleasure comes the piercing of all rules? And does the reality of death matter to who caused it? At this moment, I am like a fish that has not yet reached the chopping board, struggling and screaming before dying, or experiencing a different kind of liberation? If talking about liberation is too idealistic, then what other paths are there to take?
The method of liberation has been described by previous generations but remains unsolved. Truly facing this question inevitably requires a true examination of life. In the context of social change, truth constantly corrects the disharmony brought about by desires. The so-called development of society is ultimately a powerful struggle. But when it comes to the fleetingness of life, facing death in various forms, no matter how much sentiment is expressed, no matter how much ink is used, it is difficult to escape from it.
It is easy to despise the rules of the world, but it is difficult to liberate oneself from the emptiness of life. The former only requires being true, but what comes after being true?
After calmness, the sound of gasping remains clear, and I feel like I can't breathe.
Descend into Hell#
If there is something different about my life compared to others, it is the experience of interacting with animals, witnessing the birth and death of one animal after another. The knife goes in white, and comes out red, with fresh blood gushing out. The overwhelming stench of rotting flesh, the swollen reproductive organs the size of corn cobs on a dead sow, while the piglets still suckle on the purple nipples. Newly hatched chicks are bitten to death, and the midwife lamb pulls out its own uterus, unable to survive...
If killing a human leads to descending into hell, then killing a chicken must also lead to descending into hell, and it should be even more deserving of hell than killing a human. Unless hell is created by humans, if it is created by humans, then it is not hell, it is the human world.