Now that spring is in full swing, there will be egg hunts everywhere! I even saw a basket of plastic eggs outside of a Trader Joe’s and considered being the lucky keeper, but opted to leave it for a child to find instead. That’s probably who the basket was intended for, although egg hunts for adults are becoming a thing now. Whether or not egg hunts for adults tip the “weird” scale too far for you, there’s no shame in participating in this week’s writing prompt.
Writing Prompt: The Hatching
During the annual spring egg hunt, your child is delighted to find an egg larger than their head. Not only is it huge, it’s also warm… and looks unlike any bird egg you’ve ever seen.
Post your response in the comments in 500 words or fewer.
During the annual spring egg hunt, Calvin is delighted to find an egg larger than his head. Not only is it huge, it’s also warm and looks unlike any bird egg he has ever seen. The paints on the egg are also very strange and the pattern is hypnotic. He thinks if it’s an ostrich egg as he gently suppresses the child within him who is expecting a dragon to pop out. While he is contemplating, the egg begins to hatch. A frisson takes over him as his eyes spread larger than the egg itself. Suddenly he is disgusted and blinded by the splash of amniotic fluid over his face. He quickly rubs his eyes and regains his vision. Gotcha! said the smaller newborn egg in front of him.
It’s a nice great tale which whipped up a nostalgic feeling about big bird. The simplicity of your style perfectly created the illusion of reality for me. Great attempt.
“Momma? The eggs, they aren’t alive, are they?”
“Oh, no, baby,” Myra chuckled. “No chickens in those eggs.” She followed Jannie’s gaze out the patio door and watched the children gathered around a bush in the far corner of her back yard.
“What are they all looking at?” she asked.
“One’s hatching,” Jannie replied.
Myra jumped out of the chair and ran outside, shouting at the children not to touch anything. The children backed away, exposing an egg rocking at the edge of the mulch. It was larger than the ones she had hidden that morning, yellow with bright blue polka dots and a green stripe zagging around its middle.
“Julius?” she yelled.
She positioned herself over the egg, pushing the children behind her. Thick, white ooze emanated from a large crack that cut through the upper half of the egg. The children edged to Myra’s sides, following her directions to keep away but making sure they could clearly see whatever happened next. Aaliyah had her mother’s cell phone held in the ubiquitous recording pose.
The egg crack widened, and Myra could see white fur glistening in the ooze.
Julius appeared behind Myra, baseball bat held high. He lowered it as Myra cast him a look. “The way you were shouting…” he began.
The egg popped, causing Myra and the children to scream. Julius’ bat flew back into the air.
A four-foot tall grey and white rabbit appeared in front of them, fur slicked back with a white and yellow slimy substance. It shook, sending its goo over the spectators. The eggshell, positioned between the rabbit’s ears like a yarmulke, flew off its head and landed on Aaliyah’s arm, which caused her to shriek in revulsion and drop the cell phone.
The rabbit looked at the crowd and swiftly hopped to the other side of the yard, where it thrust its front paws to its face and began clearing off its head and ears.
“Julius?” Myra asked. “Did you get something special for the kids?”
“Not that kinda special,” Julius replied.
The rabbit brought its paws to its neck and unfurled a blue polka-dotted bow tie. Then, shaking its right hind leg, then its left, it hopped away behind the house, leaving white puddles on the ground.
Jannie licked the slime off a finger. “It’s sweet, Momma,” she said. “Like frosting.”
Myra grabbed her daughter’s hands before she could lick them clean.
“All y’all go wash up,” she said. “Now. Time for pancakes.” She herded the kids into the house, with a firm look at Julius that it was his responsibility to clean up the whole mess.
Pven! Hey glad you’re back. Good response to the prompt!
One magical Easter, a girl found an egg.
She thought it was magic! It was larger than her head.
She carried it home, with her wee tiny legs.
And placed it near her when she slept on her bed.
She cared for it as much as she could,
Took baths, ate dinners, like all girls should.
It was her best friend, or so she puts,
But her dad found out and demanded the truth.
Her dad wanted to return it to its nest,
But the girl, she loved it, so they kept it instead.
But then she asked, “What happens next?”
The dad replied, “We’ll take care of it, don’t fret.”
A month has passed, magic came to the egg,
It grew legs, arms, a face, but no head.
The egg was its head, better than being dead,
At least he was thankful. What a courteous person! Or egg?
In no time at all, he began to speak,
At first it was gibberish, low and weak.
But the egg persevered and practiced every week,
Until he can say on his own “Mozambique”.
The dad then taught the little egg to walk,
Until he can walk like a peacock.
He practiced some more, until he can jog.
Soon enough, he can do the moonwalk.
The egg grew older as more time came
The girl gave her best friend, finally, a name.
A name that will not put the egg to shame,
Humpty Dumpty is what the egg became.
All was well, in their humble abode,
Humpty also helped in the house load
Chores, games, and fun overflowed,
Until one day, Humpty went alone on the road.
Humpty dumpty found a haul
Of gold and treasures in a cave so tall,
That’s when he saw a great big wall,
Of gold he swore he heard a call.
Humpty Dumpty, sat on the wall,
Humpty Dumpty, had a great fall,
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.
It felt like a rhyming day, so here’s what I got.
How fun that someone incorporated Humpty Dumpty in this prompt. Well done RafTries!
Nice Raf. The rhyming came out good
Calvin, the good-natured guy who lived down the hall from Tessa, didn’t seem himself these days. It all started after Easter weekend. He’d asked her out then she hadn’t seen him for a week. She’d spent Easter away and upon her return it seemed Cal had lost all interest.
Calvin breathed in the air in his apartment. It had become a thick greenish vapor ever since the thing began letting off fumes. The makeshift tent which housed it was no longer adequate and the thick orb of light forming around it made the object harder to conceal. Cal felt it pulling him towards it and he drew comfort from its warmth. He wanted to leave. He wanted to take the woman down the hall out and continue to go on with his life. The oval mass kept him from escaping. It needed him. He thought of the heavy sleeping bag in his closet. Tessa sent him a text message.
“I’m heading out to walk my dog and grab coffee; you available?” She was so friendly, he thought. And cute.
The sleeping bag would work in the short term. He threw it over the thing. He cleaned up, brushed his wavy preppy hair and grabbed a decent looking jacket.
They walked at a fast clip and Cal felt immediate relief from the pull of the thing. He hadn’t sought it out. It had landed in his apartment. The sky had opened up and it had drifted down to his fire escape. What was it? Why was it changing?
Questions swirled in Cal’s head clogging his mind and going around in circles the way Tessa’s spoon stirred her cappuccino. He brought his strong coffee to his lips burning his tongue but smiling as he did so. Deception would be eminent if he was to keep this alien ball. He must keep it.
“So, Tessa, you’re Canadian,” he put his hand on her arm, steadying her nervous hand, which had still been stirring the drink. “What brings you to this area?”
It worked. She smiled.
By the third date Cal felt he had to tell her his secret and he stood in the men’s room at the restaurant with cold water running down his face. He had taken it back out of the sleeping bag and put it on his pillow in his bed. There was more: it was growing.
As he began to tell her about that night, she sipped wine and smiled at him. He felt she was looking into his eyes.
“Hey,” she interrupted, “your eyes- they’ve changed. They look green now. Come to think of it- your skin looks a little green, Cal.”
“How many drinks have you had?” Cal laughed it off. He thought he may as well just bring her to the object.
In the pale street light through the blinds, the thing looked wet and it’s bright light had dissipated but it’s shell had softened.
“That’s an egg.” Tessa didn’t sound as horrified as Calvin had anticipated.
Why hadn’t he noticed it was an egg?
“I think it’s controlling me,” he was able to admit to her. “It doesn’t want me to leave.”
They talked a little longer and Tessa seemed to be interested in photographing it. She left talking about “doing some research.”
Day by day, week by week, the egg got stronger and Cal got weaker. He nursed it, protected it, slept on it and held it. He deleted Tessa from his phone. He stopped eating or sleeping. When he felt he was dying, the egg began to hatch.
When a man looking just like him emerged, Cal felt all his life transfer to the new creature and he laid still, at rest, at last having completed his work in giving life to the alien.
Brilliant piece!
You did something magical with this that
keep me going back to it. That’s what good writing does to me.
The twist at the end got me gasping in excitement. I, honestly, didn’t see it coming.
Keep up the good work!
Chill bumps to you this morning, that’s what’ve given me thiss morning
I am a scardy cat when I read stuff like this. I picked up that he doomed from the start and I thought he might be rescued. I am glad for one thing though, I read it in the daytime. Brrrrrrr.
Thank you Mohiro and Kerry!
Very well done, as usual. The transformation was great. I suspect Tessa will soon be seeing “Cal” again. At one point I thought Tessa was part of the alien invasion, so that misdirection worked.
Thank you, Reatha. Yea I debated whether to include her at all because of the word count but it provided a motivation for MC to pull away from the egg. I like how it came out – been producing duds lately.
I really enjoyed this writer_sk. Do you mind if I call you sk? One of your best pieces. Easily publishable, I would say, if you found the right publisher. When it comes to alien invasion, this seems to me would be they way it would be done.
awesome, thank you. Of course ~ my name is Sarah Kohm so it is just my initials.
I can’t help but think Tessa was aware of what the egg was all about and her interest in ‘doing research’ as an alien will have her showing up in a sequel? Good writing here!
The Hatching
Council had finally given all parks in the city of Rutherford the green light to hold an Easter egg event. Gold Bar Park Community was prepared and organized. The park’s perimeters had been secured and now dozens of parents and excited children waited for the fun to begin – the first time in five years. Then the whistle blew and the Easter egg hunt was on.
Children scampered across the grass amid shouts of glee when fingers discovered the hidden candy. Parents kept a watchful eye on the happy scene under some shady trees. Temperatures were already soaring.
“Dad.” “Mom.” Cries came from the run-down playground situated behind a small knoll that partially obscured some of the children.
“Stewart?” Dr. Thomas Barton yelled and started running followed by the other parents.
“Dad, look” Stewart pointed when Tom arrived. The other children gathered around Easter baskets forgotten, mouths agape at the sight.
A gargantuan speckled egg – about the size of a mini fridge – lay in the sand by a rusty swing set.
“Oh no.” A mother said to the children holding her arms out protectively. “Stay back.”
“What the heck?” A parent said. “I thought this was too good to be true.”
Tom – a scientist at the university – crouched down, touched the egg then looked up and said quietly, “It’s warm.”
“I’ve had enough.” A young mother carrying an infant in a sling grabbed her little boy by the hand. “Marcus we’re going home.”
“We should call the Watchers.” A father said already punching numbers in the phone embedded in his forearm.
Ominous crepitating sounds emanated from the egg as fissures splintered its surface.
“Let’s go Rosie.” A mother picked up her little girl.
“My candy.” Rosie said tearfully reaching for her basket in the grass.
“Not now.” Her mother said.
Other parents quickly followed suit and ran half dragging, some carrying their children to their hover cars even as Rutherford’s defense siren began blaring.
Tom stood up and that’s when he noticed the smaller eggs behind the first one. They too added to the chorus of crackling sounds as fissures fractured their surfaces.
“Son, we have to go.” Tom said.
“Dad is this another invasion?” Stewart’s eyes bulged as a slimy mass bubbled through the widening cracks in the eggs.
A glistening claw emerged from the shell quickly followed by another and another.
“Come on!” Tom yelled grabbing Stewart’s arm.
Safely airborne in their hover car, Stewart and Tom witnessed the Watchers dropping heavy metal mesh from their air patrol vehicles over the growing mass of struggling hatchings.
“What’s going to happen to them?” Stewart asked.
“They’ll be moved to the outback with the others.” Tom said, thankful they’d all escaped but also frustrated that another outdoor event had been ruined. Would it ever be safe?
Tom noted the news report on the screen in front of him about numerous sightings around the city.
“To answer your question son, it looks like another invasion.” Tom said. “We’re safe if we stay in our sky towers.
“It was fun being outside.” Stewart said looking down at the baskets and colorful candies on the green grass beneath them. “They eat everything don’t they? Maybe they’ll get sick on the candy and leave.”
Tom patted his son’s knee. “We’ll try again next year.”
You know, don’t you that you keep adding danger to danger until the old heart.started beating faster and faster.until the end. It’s muchore effective this way.and by the time I finished it. I started looking for my hover car. Excellent build up of tension and danger Critique.
Thank you for your comments Kerry. High praise indeed 🙂
Good science fiction writing ! I liked how your piece started off regular-sounding and then you worked in the details of the phone embedded in the skin etc gradually.
Strong visuals and detailed descriptions Gabe your story a true alien feel
Thank you Sarah for the comments. It means a lot!
Great take on the prompt. I appreciate how you seamlessly incorporated details about your world into the story without forcing. Always nice to see your work.
Thank you for the comments Reatha!
A good example of show-don’t tell when it comes to creating the scene. A really well done, enjoyable story.
Thank you for your comments!
Beautiful, fascinating read. Well-paced. Picturesque. Subtle ending.
Keep up the good work.
Thank you for the comments!
Hatching
I had a very bad feeling about this. Claire, on the other hand, was super excited, her smile, graceful, lavish, enchanting. Wish I could share her bliss. But there’s a gut feeling silently stirring in the whole of me the very moment I sighted the egg.
“Don’t touch it! ”
The caution came late. Not that Claire would have heeded me anyway. She has the sweetly naughty habit of asserting her will.
She lifted the strange egg, cuddling it. It’s the size and the shape of rugby ball, the shell, a sweet, soft lillac.
“Daddy, it’s warm!” Claire’s eyes glinted with irresistible warmth.
I took the egg, wondering what could be inside, wishing, at the same time, I could throw it away.
I shuddered to think what Claire would say or do next.
Again I was late.
“Daddy, let’s take it with us!”
Against my better judgement, her blunt innocence wooed me. I nodded in agreement. I flunk almost all the time not being able to resolutely say no to Claire’s demands. Claire, now seven, was the only child from my messy marriage to Robbyn. We didn’t have to contest Claire’s custody. Robbyn was clinically unstable for that. And the great bonding between dad and daughter just landed us in Africa on a week trip.
A consultant engineer, I was doing the first of the preliminary studies, prospecting petroleum for Chevron. Claire was on holiday. Last time I checked on Google Earth, our coordinates read Latitude 7.1127 and Longitude 5.1159. That placed us on Idanre Hill, Ondo State, South Western Nigeria. This was our last day. And we have done over a thousand feet of the three thousand feet summit. That was when Claire followed a path that took us to the egg. It’s a phoney adventure to find the Easter egg.
Claire snatched the egg from me. “It’s moving, daddy!”
She gently placed the egg back where she found it in the cleft of the rock, above a flattened boulder overlaid with dry twigs and shrubs. And right before our eyes, the egg shifted. And shifted again. Then the egg cracked. In seconds, the whole shell fragmented in pieces as what seemed a strange creature emerged.
I stood still. Claire moved towards the strange thing.
What happened next was horrifying. Shadow preceded the shriek and a wild flapping of taut, strong wings of an angry monster bird, heading for Claire. In my bid to save her, we both fell, our scream drowned by the shriek. I was tumbling. I could see, in rotation, the empyrean sky and the rustic village at the foot of the hill.
Finally, I crashed into a tree. Just then, I was hit on the chest by a crushing weight. It’s Claire! I held her tight. We could both see the monster bird fawning over her young!
What came to my mind was pterodactyl.
The flying reptile heaved up on the incoming draft, headed straight for us….
Thrilling, detailed and an enticing setting. You captured the parent’s awareness of his daughter’s power over his decision-making.
Creative and Well done
Thanks for taking time to read. Greater thanks for your warm response!
Great take on the prompt. I like the way you established the time and place so the pterodactyl was even more shocking and frightening. Chapter 2 next prompt?
Nicely done, mohiro. This had a realistic feel and was fun to read. It’s good to know I’m not the only one to fall prey to a child’s wishes.
A creative take on the prompt. It brought back Jurassic Park….The cliffhanger ending begs more story.
The sound of children’s laughter echoed through the park. Candy wrappers, dropped jelly beans, and plastic eggshells littered the musky wood chips on the playground. Mothers nervously chewed their nails as kids scuffed their knees on freshly cut grass. Fathers pooled together, hogging the picnic tables and benches whilst sipping their teas and coffees.
Miranda felt vaguely out of place. She was probably a decade younger than the rest of the mothers, and didn’t have a husband to save her a spot at the picnic area. She stood awkwardly in jeans and a T-shirt while the other mothers flounced past in their Sunday best.
“Cody,” Miranda called, “C’mon sweetie it’s almost time to go.”
A young boy who was undeniable Miranda’s son poked his head out from behind a bush.
“Can I at least get a picture with the Easter Bunny, Mom?”
Miranda glanced over at the large pastel purple bunny, and the sign that read ‘5$ per photo’. Miranda hesitated for a moment.
“No Cody, you got a picture last year.”
Miranda heard no response and paused.
“Cody?”
“Mom! Look at this egg!”
Cody had emerged from behind the bush with a large brown egg speckled with flecks of green and blue. It didn’t look like plastic. Other children began to point and gasp and stare. Cody’s peers gathered around him and began to praise him. Miranda smiled softly and breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly the children started screaming. Miranda and the fathers sprung into action, making sure each child was not injured.
“Cody!”
His eyes had rolled back into his head, only the whites of his eyeballs were visible as his mouth contorted into unnatural shapes. The top of the egg had been cracked off, possibly by the curious kids who wanted to see what enormous prize was hidden away.
Inside the egg was nothing. It wasn’t empty, no. It was filled to the brim with nothingness, a void. It wasn’t dark or light. It was absent of any color because it was the color of absence itself; and I pray that you never have to see it like they did.
I love this. Definitely didn’t see the ending coming. I also really appreciate how you were able to subtly provide context around the mother’s backstory/situation.
Wasn’t sure why Cody’s eyes rolled back in his head – I’m guessing it was a reaction to the egg contents.
I thought the story progressed at a nice pace but in the final paragraphs could be spread out a Little more and sequenced consecutively because it felt a little rushed and jumbled.
Hope you don’t mind my feedback and I liked where it ended up with the blank void.
Anyway cool concept and like I said good lead up.
I appreciate all feedback, and truth be told it was a bit rushed. I definitely knew how I wanted it to end. But if I had spent any more time on the desktop at that time of night, my dad would have had my head!
Been there! I am a procrastinator, too, so there’s that!
Definitely got my attention. Perhaps you could use this as introduction to a longer piece. I want to know more about the void.
Nice, E.C. I take it from your comment to writer_sk that you’re a young writer. The setting of the scene was really good as was your subtle ways of showing Miranda’s financial situation. I was a little confused about Cody’s reaction to the egg contents but I appreciated your description of the nothingness. Nicely done.
The ending was creepy using the ‘void’ and absence of anything inside the egg .. makes it a horror story. It triggered my imagination about what the emptiness meant. A bit more story might have rounded it out more. Well done.
It matters little that winter is setting in although it will be harder physically. Out here in the wilderness, it’s nature tooth and claw. And I won’t admit to my aches, my pains from relative immobility.
You see, personal responsibility and a strong moral compass are all that one needs to overcome life’s vicissitudes. In spite of the travails and obstacles in my path, I will hold my head up and continue on my assigned mission, though its premise was rushed, and she, who instigated the mission, has not appeared in a long time.
She.
I wonder sometimes where she is now…
****
“Hey, Mayzie! You lookin’ fine girl.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“OK. I’ll have a bird seed martini.”
“Hey Mayzie, like I’m glad to see you, but I heard you laid an egg last summer.”
“So what if I did? Females lay eggs. Duh! It’s not going to cramp my style. I can go partying if I want to! Hiccup.”
“But…”
“And besides. Who said that I have to sit on that egg myself, eh? You never heard of the BFM?”
“What’s that?”
“Bird Feminism Movement. I’m my own bird with my own life and my own rules. Hiccup.”
“Yes, but…”
“You’re a real buzzkill, you know that? What I do with my egg is my business. This is the problem with you male birds. You strut around like you’re God’s gift to birdland, but you’re just selfish losers.”
“Yes but the egg…”
“I told you, I got it covered! I got some chump to do my heavy lifting, so butt out! Hiccup.”
****
And Horton kept sitting there, day after day,
and soon it was Autumn, the leaves blew away
And then came the Winter…the snow and the sleet
And icicles hung
From his trunk and his feet.
But Horton kept sitting, and said with a sneeze,
“I’ll stay on this egg and I won’t let it freeze.
I meant what I said
And I said what I meant…
An elephant’s faithful
One hundred per cent.”
And at that very instant, the egg burst apart!
And out of the pieces of red and white shell,
From the egg that he’d sat on so long and so well,
Horton the Elephant saw something whizz!
It had Ears
And a Tail
And a trunk just like his!
Up yours, Mayzie.
(A nod to Theodore Geisel, who helped with this noodle,
Don’t know who he is? Well just do a Google…)
My smile grew bigger and bigger the more I read on! I loved this.
Well Hack, you managed a ten on this one
The mind is quick this week. Congrats, there is no higher than a ten
Ha!
I did the Google, though I suspected the answer. A humdinger, Hack. A pretty ambitious piece with lots of little tidbits. Nice.
This is perfect, one hundred percent!
Oh, I know Dr Seuss well! I’m not surprised he informs your work. Your writing has the same magical quality his does.
The “BFM” was a good reference. The birdseed martini was a fun detail.
I enjoyed reading this.
Writing Prompt: The Hatching
During the annual spring egg hunt, your child is delighted to find an egg larger than their head. Not only is it huge, it’s also warm… and looks unlike any bird egg you’ve ever seen.
Post your response in the comments in 500 words or fewer.
Easter morning! The kids scrambled into our bedroom, baskets in hand. “ Can we start?” They chirped excitedly. I lifted one eye and moaned, “Is the sun up?” Jerry Heaved himself onto his belly with a loud snort, sighed, and dropped back to sleep. I slung my arm over him and swiped at the curtain. Light shot me in the eye, giving me my answer. “Alrighty then, you know the rules. Stay in the backyard. Everyone gets 6 eggs each. On your mark, get set. Go!”
While the kids hunted for eggs, I wrestled myself out of bed and got busy with breakfast. Fresh squeezed orange juice and bacon crackling in the pan would go great with the easter eggs they found. And Jerry had baked fresh cinnamon rolls last night! Mmmm…..pop them in the microwave wrapped in a damp towel and they would be as if they had just come out of the oven.
My stomach growled. I poured myself a cup of tea and sat down to wait for the kids.
I could hear them outside. I imagined that Seven year old Sarah would be quiet and calculating as she searched for eggs, systematically but quickly and thoroughly, around the yard. Carlo, 5 and a half, would be running around like a maniac, missing half the eggs in his excitement. When he found one, he would yell, “I found one!” as if it was the first egg, in all of history, that had ever been found. Four year old Dilly would be distracted by every sight and sound and probably forget what he was even doing out there.
It wasn’t long before Sarah and Carlo were back in the kitchen with their baskets. Jerry was still in bed so I sent Carlo off to urge him awake and Sarah went out to get Dilly focused. Carlo came bouncing back, dragging Jerry to his chair and nudged him into it. He started toward the door to go help Sarah when he stopped short. “ Dilly!”, he cried. “What do you got?”
I twisted around to look. There was Dilly with his skinny little arms wrapped around an egg as big as his head! He rubbed his cheek against a smooth but lumpy shell and smiled. It’s warm and it’s bumping me.” Sarah followed right behind him, eyes wide. She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. “Did you hide that egg mom? Does he get a special prize or something?” We never had an egg like that before!” Jerry rubbed his eyes and looked confused. “Am I still sleeping? Because it looks like Dilly is holding a giant lumpy egg right now.” “No, Dad! You’re not dreaming!” exclaimed Carlo. “That’s a real big egg!” “Dilly, maybe you should give me that egg to hold, sweetie. I’m not sure what’s in it” Dilly hugged it tight. “No Mommy, it’s my egg and I like it so much. I found it all by myself!” “Where did you find it Dilly?” I asked. “It was with the other big eggs in the backyard,” he replied, smiling brightly. “ The OTHER big eggs?!” Jerry scooped Dilly and his egg into his arms and ran for the door with the rest of us right behind.
(End of chapter one.)
)I might have posted this wrong. Just joined.)
Aww, this family is sweet. Very nice story and dialogue.
A cliff hanger… An enjoyable little tale. Can’t wait for the conclusion.
Looking forward to the reveal.
Welcome to the site, great story to start with. Looking fonward to next week.
You have me hooked. Great little tale. I could picture the children and the breakfast. Waiting for part 2.
69. The Egg
[Follows “68. The Trap”, under “Spinning the Globe”, and is followed by “70. The Invasion”, under “Antiquing”. This is the last of the “the Empire’s days are numbered” chapters. Chapters 74-87 still need to be written, charting the Empire’s decline, and a couple more chapters are missing leading up to Barbara’s death. You can click on my name above for the complete list of chapters, and a few “proof of concept” novelized chapters.]
Barbara was only half surprised that the mission had been completely botched, and now she found herself trudging through a forest, bare-footed, away from the burning wreckage of the shuttlecraft, surrounded by unarmed troopers and disheveled diplomats.
The Subcommander, fortunately, was familiar with the flora and fauna of this planet, and there was a Union-friendly city two days’ trek away.
All was relative, of course, during a planet-wide civil war.
The ground was covered with layers upon layers of decomposing tree branches. The more rotten the better, in terms of comfort, so nobody complained about the slipperiness and squishiness of the rotting matter. Only occasionally did someone find their feet plunging into a hidden chasm or landing hastily upon a sharp-edged tree sprout.
Sleeping on the rot was not too terrible, thanks to the weather-proof escape suits, but left their hair with a scent that haunted them. The Sergeant who had taken the helmets out of the shuttlecraft in order to wash them, unnecessarily, had died in the crash, so there was some frustration among the officers at not being able to have a good yell at the feckless subordinate.
And they were hungry. There was nothing to eat anywhere. It was the wrong time of the year. This was the season for rotting, and the creatures that ate rotting stuff were, well, not very pleasant to eat.
They had tried that already.
“Oh, look!” An Overensign yelled out. He had drifted off to the side, away from the trekking group, lost in thought, and had stumbled into something interesting. Hopefully edible. “It’s an egg!”
The Subcommander went to him right away. “Ah. So it is.”
“What kind of egg is it?” asked a Subambassador.
“Does it matter? Aren’t all eggs edible?” the Overensign observed.
There was a silent exchange of looks that confirmed to one another that that was a very dumb thing to say. The Subcommander was the one who responded, “Well, depends…”
The egg was a large, leathery, jiggly blob, somewhat pinched in the middle, and was over fifty centimeters across. It did not seem to be sitting on any kind of a nesting material. The pinched middle let it sit across a tree’s exposed root, apparently so that it did not roll away.
The Subcommander poked at it. She clearly did not know what it was. “I don’t know…”
Barbara had a funny thought. “Don’t eat anything bigger than your head, they say.”
The Overensign frowned. “Aren’t most things we eat, you know… they start out bigger than my head, I mean…”
Barbara resisted the temptation to shake her head.
The Overensign poked at the egg, “I mean…”
To his misfortune, the egg suddenly exploded, covering the Overensign and the Subcommander with its contents.
It was not an egg. It was a pod of digestive juices that quickly consumed them.
“I suppose, if you are a plant, you can,” someone quipped.
They moved on.
The Empire was done for.
You’re the master of your world(s), Jen. Always unique.
Hack
Oh my, that ending was unexpecting. If this was written in more length, I would continue reading in a heartbeat.
You managed an egg hunt in your futuristic world, somewhat, I mean. What a gross pod that was. Well done.
Another great chapter. I really appreciate how you can weave the prompt into your saga without it seeming forced.
Oh wow. This was so good, Jen. I loved the visual of the floor of the planet and the theme of everything rotting and smelling. I thought the back and forth of the discussion on whether the egg was edible was pitch perfect. I second Reatha on your ability to seamlessly incorporate your existing characters and storyline into the prompt assignments.
Great ending here and their reaction to the digestive juices was unexpected and exactly right.
Thanks, everyone! (I confess, it is a rip-off of a Dr Who episode…)
The weather for our annual village fairy egg hunt was ideal. For weeks it was all my youngest could talk about. Now that his wings had fully sprouted he was confident he would find the best eggs, ones even better than his older siblings could find.
The children all waited eagerly behind the starting line. At the cue of, “on your mark” they each grabbed their baskets.
“Get set,” wings started fluttering and the tiny fairies hovered above the ground.
“Go!!” Young fairies zipped in all directions, the youngest running as fast as they could keep up. The rest of the parents flew up to the top of a nearby tree to watch the frenzy.
After a while, the kids came flying back to show off their winnings. The first ones would report that all eggs had been found until someone else came flying in behind them boasting about one more they spotted in a tricky area. There seemed to be an unspoken rule between them all that the fairy to find the last egg was “truly” the winner, so most would go back out to try to find more.
Another fifteen minutes later, my youngest was the only one yet to return at all.
“Did any of you see him?” I asked my children. Unsure if they were in trouble, their faces turned red and they all shook their heads.
“Alright everyone let’s go look,” I ordered. They all groaned as they were just starting to dig into their treats.
“The sooner we find him, the sooner you get back to your baskets”. At that stipulation they all took off ahead of me in a frantic search to find the missing fairy.
Far off the designated area I heard the grunting and frustration of a little voice. I lifted a giant leaf and found him exhausted, attempting to hoist an egg the size of his own body off the ground. At that age, I could understand the appeal of this egg in particular.
“Honey,” I said with mixed emotions of pity and amusement, “You can’t have that one”.
“But why not?” he whined. Just then, a giant shoe narrowly missed him. I flew to my son as fast as I could and snatched him out of the way, hiding us back behind the tree. A deafening squeal came from the giant, and we both reached up to cover our ears.
“I FOUND ONE!!!” the giant’s voice boomed, and a massive hand reached down and grabbed the plastic pink egg. The giant quickly turned and ran off, still leaving small trembles in its wake behind it. Once I was sure the coast was clear, I looked down at my son’s face of pure shock.
“That’s why,” I told him. “Come on now, I bet your brothers and sisters will be willing to share some of their treats with you”.
He grabbed my hand reluctantly, and we flew back to join the rest.
Delightful, Kate. Well done.
I liked the twist.
Very nice tone, Kate.
Hack
This should be a children’s book or written in more length because I thoroughly enjoyed this! It was sweet and I’m sure very colorful.
What a sweet story, reminded me of back when my father told me fairies lived under clover, but I had to be very gentle when I searched for four leaf ones.
I could picture them fluttering around
CHARLES WITTINGTON ANDERSON III
In the middle eighties, there lived a man in Dallas that resided in a stately mansion in the Turtle Creek area. A mysterious person at the least who even at the age of ninety three took a regular afternoon stroll by the creek whose named had been used in the early seventies to represent the very most expensive real estate that exists west of the Mississippi. New money and power doesn’t decide if you could live there unless your great grandparents were born in Dallas.
I mean no one knew where Chuck’s supply of fame, power and influence came from. A mystery no one had ever managed to find out. But I knew and only I do know. In the mid- thirties, close to downtown, an orphanage called ‘The Good Hope’ operated and one of their young orphans there was named Charles, a skinny, neglected child of eight. The orphanage had an Easter hunt that spring on the property of Turtle Creek which existed as a down and out hopeless area.
The Easter Egg hunt was given courtesy of the city who tried to help the orphanage. I was one of the children there and Charles and I hunted together. He ran ahead of me and darted into a small wooded area. By the time I got there, he came crashing out of the foliage carrying a monster egg, so heavy he could barely hold it. We left the hunt and ran back to the home and hid the egg in the basement. As days went by, the egg grew to a tremendous sixe. The next day early, we ran to the basement and the egg had disappeared.
A strange thing happened, I could see Charles talking to thin air. He was startled at my presence and offered his hand again to an empty space and appeared to be guiding something to the basement door. The door opened itself and then closed quietly. Charles came back, grinning from ear to ear.
“Did you see it Bobby, how big it was?”
“I didn’t see nothin’ Chuck. You’re crazy.”
“Bobby, her name is Harvena, she’s a girl rabbit. She told me she could see into the future and only very special people would notice her. I’m sorry you can’t see her, she’s taller than I am. She said for me to lock the basement door. She opens locked doors Bobby, imagine that.”
“I think you’re crazy Chuck, that’s what I think.”
Well you know the story now. Chuck passed away last week at 94. Guess what, he left? Harvena in my care. She is a beautiful rabbit over six feet tall. She standing here with me. You can’t see her can you? Well, tough apple, I can. We cashed some stock yesterday and are deciding which bank could use another eight million. By the way, you may wonder why I don’t look my age like I should.
Well, it seems Harvena has found a way to stop age just like she can stop time. Well we’re off. By the way, you haven’t lived till you do the tango with a six foot rabbit. She twirls you everywhere. Ta Ta.
[In Tribute to the play, Harvey]
Very clever, KC. And oh so enjoyable to read.
Thank John, one thing I would have changed, not just a female rabbit but a full blown Playboy bunny. Why did I not think of that? Duh!
Jimmy Stewart would have something to say about this… Ah, ah…ah very, ah good, Kerry.
Hack
Thanks Hack. I did talk to Jimmy Stewart first for permission. “Yeah ahh, you know uh, what royalties are you ., you know uh considering?”
Brilliant, Kerry. An excellent read.
Thanks Turtles, so good to see you back.
Loved, loved, loved this. The friendship between Bobby and Charlie was so well done.
I guess you liked it, I am so pleased. Thank you.
Kerry – can’t go wrong with an old orphanage as a setting.
Drew me in from the first paragraph. So much information was packed into your story.
I was surprised by the fact that it was a giant female (sometimes invisible) rabbit.
Sounds like the beginning of the plot to a quirky indie film.
Above in response to John, I mentioned I wish I had made her a playboy bunny. Now I think of it! Thanks so much for stopping by. Welcome back
Stately mansions, orphanages, and drama with children are huge drawing cards for me. An entertaining story Kerry. I’m trying to picture a tango with a six foot rabbit and I’m smiling!
Thank you Critique. Tango with a rabbit reminds me of Cotillion.
(First things first. Welcome back, Turtles!)
Marge Reads Headlines
“So, you agree?” Marge sat forward in her favorite wingback chair, tried to understand the expression on Arlee’s face. He’d been staring into space while she’d been talking.
“Uh, what was that?” Arlee pulled himself back from replaying the miserable game two nights before.
“Easter, what do you think of my idea for Sunday? Weren’t you listening?”
“Yes, of course I was listening.” It was a lie, but a little, white one. He couldn’t tell his lovely wife of almost fifty years that he’d been contemplating throwing his lucky Warriors tee shirt in the trash. He wouldn’t even consider the donate box, no one should be forced to wear that garment, no one. “Why don’t you just go over your idea again. You know my hearing isn’t what it was.” He silently added, Besides, you’ve been mumbling again.
“Well, I was thinking that perhaps the grandchildren are getting a bit old for an egg hunt. Perhaps after church and lunch we could watch a holiday movie instead. What do you think?”
“Yes, yes, that sounds fine. A movie.” But nothing basketball related, he wanted to scream. “What movie did you have in mind? I can’t seem to recall any …”
“Well, since Nathan showed me things I could do in addition to email, I’ve been searching,” Marge proudly held up her iPad mini, a birthday gift from the children.
“That’s nice,” Arlee said, glad they had an eight-year-old grandson, because his own electronic skills were limited to the remote that so far he’d resisted throwing at the TV screen.
“It seems as if lots of headlines are about this new movie that combines an egg hunt with a car. In fact, these last two,” she tapped the screen, “make it sound perfect.”
“If that’s what you want to do…”
“Listen, Arlee: 17 Easter eggs hidden in GOT. Or, this one, Giant GOT Easter egg.” Marge smiled. “Should I see about renting it? I think it’s on HBO.”
“Didn’t we try HBO once?”
“Yes, Dear, a special offer, but that show we watched was so violent. Something about this very bad man, Tony something, I believe his name was. Let me think.”
Arlee let her think.
“I’ve got it, his name was Tony Alto. Hmmm, or was it Tony Shalhoub?”
“Marge, dear, this Easter movie, why do you think it’s about a car?”
“Oh, Arlee, don’t you remember? The Beach Boys? Little GOT, really looking fine, wah, wah, wah, wah, wah, wah.”
“Marge, I recall that song, but it wasn’t The Beach Boys and it wasn’t GOT, it was GTO. Maybe you should find out more about that movie.” Arlee went back to mentally composing a letter to Coach Kerr explaining how the next game needed to be played when—
“Oh, my, oh, my goodness!” Marge gasped. “What on earth!”
“Marge, dear,” Arlee pulled his recliner to the upright position, just in case. “What is it? An email from the children?”
“No, no, it’s that GOT, it’s not a movie,’ Marge kept tapping the screen, “and it’s certainly not about Easter. I cannot believe what I’m reading. Oh, Arlee, listen to this, gratuitous nudity.”
“Uh, Marge, what was that?” Arlee started to stand. “Gratuitous what?”
“Oh, dear, what if I’d rented this, for Easter, for the children.”
“Hmmm, yes, well.” Arlee stammered.
“I think,” Marge put her iPad on the lamp table, “I’d better start planning an Easter egg hunt.”
Arlee pushed his recliner back, no longer envisioning basketball.
Tony Alto. You’re forgiven, Reatha, as who could quibble with your style.
Hack
Haha this was marvelous and cute! And hello hello! I’m glad to be back! In reading this, this was my favorite bit,
” I believe his name was. Let me think.”
Arlee let her think. “
Love Arlee and Marge. Not everyone has natural ability to figure out technology, me included. Last night, I babysat for the grandkids. My daughter doesn’t have TV service, they stream everything. I had to have them set the TV up for Netflix before they left.
Love Arlee and Marge. We can’t all be technology wizards. I know I’m not.
This was so completely real, it made me shudder. It’s very similar to conversations I have with my wife. Neither one of us can remember some of the movies we used to see together or the stars that made them so good. Working together we can do it. I would say “her name starts with the letter A” or so on. What a truism you can write!
The reason I have two responses is the first one disappeared, and I couldn’t remember what I wrote, so I added a second, and now here they both are,
Please feel free to comment twice any time. I always appreciate the thoughts.
Thanks everyone. I’ve never watched Game of Thrones, like Marge and Arlee, we don’t have HBO, so I was surprised when a few months ago I started seeing GOT headlines everywhere. Then when several included the words “Easter eggs” this story wrote itself. I did read a few news reports to try to determine why the frenzy and found the phrase “gratuitous nudity.”
Reatha, Marge and Arlee are so delightful I intentionally saved your story to come back to today when I had more time.
Perfectly innocent misunderstanding and such a clever way for it to unfold. This could be an article in Vanity Faire or Huff Post or something.
Very witty
Reatha you have a marvelous talent for making your characters believable and real. Thank you for a fun read. Arlee and Marge could be a series!
Great characterization. You made them all come alive through copious dialogue. Quite tasking, engaging. Realistic. Bold style. Bravely done.
“Hey Mom, look what I found! It’s a dinosaur egg!”
“That doesn’t look like an egg, Timmy.”
I took it from him; it was surprisingly light for its size. Huge and relatively flat, like a pressed sandwich. Although it was warm, it felt not like an egg but a river rock, the surface a layer of polished smoothness over an unyielding core. It seemed to have the slightest glow, which disappeared immediately when I tried to focus on it.
“Well, what is it then?”
“I don’t know.”
“So it *could* be a dinosaur.”
“It could be, but probably not. It seems like a rock.”
“No, it sort of moved by itself, like something was inside.”
“Well, then I guess we should make it a nest and see what happens.”
I pulled some of the older and more stained tea towels from the drawer. I layered them in the largest stock pot we had and placed the egg, or rock, gently in the temporary nest. We watched it intently for about fifteen minutes before I picked up my tablet and immersed myself in my book. Timmy was still watching, waiting in the quiet kitchen.
“Mom! Look!”
The egg had a Byzantine network of cracks and small pieces of it were falling all around. A sharp point emerged from the side of the egg—a beak? Next, a pointed crest leaning backward. As the egg shivered apart, a bony form revealed itself—a skeleton. An animate skeleton, but bones nonetheless.
“Holy shit!”
“MOM! You told me not to say that!”
“Sorry, kiddo. It looks like a pterodactyl! That isn’t—how could—what the actual f—“ I stopped before Timmy could chastise me again.
The creature, all its bones connected, started to peck at the egg fragments. As it swallowed them, it formed organs, muscles, and finally, skin. The leathery skin was a pearlescent pale blue. No longer a flat-packed pile of bones, it extended its wings and flapped to perch on Timmy’s head. Timmy giggled.
“Mom, it’s alive! We hatched a dinosaur! A DINOSAUR!”
The dog charged into the kitchen, fiercely barking at the intruder balanced on Timmy’s head. The creature quickly glided down to the doggie door and used its enormous beak to nudge the flap open. It pushed through and we stumbled over ourselves to get outside. It was already perched in the sumac tree, and it and we watched each other for a long minute before it extended its wings and flew away, toward the future.
Looks like life found a way. Nice!
Hack
Great story, very enjoyable. Mom is very real.
Wow I was drawn in immediately! I liked how this flowed and kept my attention throughout it. Nicely written.
Very imaginative and well done. When the creature flew toward the future, it suggested a positive feeling to me, like hope.
Whoa. Nice ending. Excellent attention to detail.
Great when the mom swears once then almost again.
Devin reached for the oh crap handle to hang on as I swung Mom’s Chevette into the Dairy Queen lot. The bald tires screamed, joining the chorus of Robert Palmer’s “Addicted to Love” rattling through the cheap door speakers.
“This has to be it.”
Devin nodded as he figured out the clue. “Ah, right. Bovine Royalty.”
The place was packed. With school fast approaching everyone wanted to get out for a few last days of freedom. My gaze happened upon the lovely Michelle Dryson sitting with her friends at a picnic table, sharing a basket of fries. What a fox.
Dustin nudged me from such thoughts. “Okay, Loverboy, let’s do this.”
WGOL had been running the scavenger all week. Far as we knew, Devin and I were snagging all the clues. We’d found blue eggs at the Mind Scramble Arcade, then a pink one inside the Nelson Plaza phone booth. The most difficult yet had been the yellow one in the back row of the Cineplex 3. We’d worked for that guy, getting drenched by a large Dr. Pepper as we fumbled over and under the seats during a matinee of Top Gun.
Now I was lurking around a toxic smelling dumpster, trying not to step in the filmy rainbow puddles leaking from the sides. This was it, we were on the hunt for the grand prize—rumored to be a Pioneer Laser Disc player.
I searched the area for trouble. We certainly didn’t need Barry Swenson and his gang of doofuses crashing our party.
“Dude, you found it?”
“Nope, still looking.”
“Hurry.”
And we were hurrying when the trill of Eddie Van Halen riffs filled the lot, as Barry’s Chevy conversion van came barreling towards us. A cloud of weed smoke pillowing from the windows.
I whistled at Devin. “Too late, get away from the dumpster. It’s Scary Barry.”
They must have been following us all day. Letting us crack the clues only to swoop in and snag the prize. I could see them now, watching Blade Runner on Laser Disc. Figures.
Barry leaped out from the driver’s side, his football jersey shimmering in the sun. “Sup dudes.”
A giggle from the picnic tables. Michelle swept her bangs from her hair, her rubber bracelets riding up her forearm. Some guys have all the luck.
“Nice ride.” Barry nodded as Michelle handed him her milkshake. Everyone got a chuckle out of Mom’s car.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Okay, so here it is!”
Devin came out from behind the dumpster, holding up the golden egg. I could have killed him. All our work in the toilet as one of Barry’s meatheads waltzed over and snatched the prize from Devin’s hand.
“Gnarly.”
Barry nodded. “Thanks for the help, dorks.”
He opened the side door. Michelle and her gum-chewing friends piled into the vans. Another slurp and he hurled the milkshake at me, where it exploded on my shirt. Splat.
“See ya, Butterscotch.”
I shot a death glare to Devin, sticky and dripping in the lot.
“Uh, Dave?”
“What.” I started ringing out my shirt. Barry’s van peeled away.
Devin looked me over. Then he smiled. “I gave them the egg, because…”
He motioned for me to come. “Check it out.”
I stomped over, ready to rub his face in my shirt. Then I saw it. At his feet sat a giant egg. Only, it was a real one. Sort of looked like a rock.
“What the—” The thing was cracking, hatching before our eyes. “Whoa.”
Some gunk, snot-like stuff as a turtle, a prehistoric looking thing broke through. It’s reptilian neck long and scaly as he peeked out, eyes blinking. Then it started crying.
I turned to Devin. “It’s hungry.”
“Radical.”
The turtle was reaching for me. I bent down and it started licking my shirt.
“You have to like, nurse it, man.” Devin gestured rocking a baby in his hands.
“Um, why don’t you nurse it.”
“No way. It likes you.”
The turtle cried out again, so I picked the little guy up, his little feet softer than I expected. He started suckling on my shirt. It tickled.
“He likes it.”
“Yeah. Should we keep it?”
“You mean, keep them?” Devin nodded. Three more trembling eggs. “I think he has brothers.”
I looked down. Little guy had milkshake on his nose. “We’ll keep them too. Feed them pizza and teach them karate.”
“Cool.”
We inched towards the eggs, sitting in the toxic sludge. Barry could keep the laser disc player.
We’d found the grand prize.
I enjoyed the dialogue between the characters. Each character had a distinct voice.
Very, very good writing, Pete. Excellent!
Hack
Perfect super hero origin story. Loved all the references,
So, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are realized… totally cool. Let’s see Barry mess with them now. So well done, Pete. You established setting so skillfully, without having to tell us the period of time. You showed us the way.
Funny and entertaining. This was a scene from an eighties movie. Great when he called him “butterscotch” I also found the turtle “suckling” funny for some reason.
Could continue with these characters. Have Michelle dump Barry haha.
A turtle suckling on a milkshake shirt… I haven’t seen the movie… I would enjoy reading a sequel to this. Well done!
“No, Sally. No.”
“But I found it. So, it’s mine.”
“It doesn’t matter if you found it.’
Sally rolled her eyes as if she couldn’t believe that I could be that level of dumb. “It was a egg hunt, Dad. I found an egg. So, it’s mine.”
I bit down my irritation and tried a different tactic. “Okay, but look at it. Does that look like an Easter egg to you?”
Sally picked the lumpy, rock-colored egg off the table and considered it. “Yep. It’s an Easter egg.”
“Oh, come on! Who ever saw an Easter egg that looked like that?”
“I found it in an Easter egg hunt. It’s an Easter egg.”
“But it’s WARM!”
“Because the Easter bunny just laid it. Duh.”
“Okay. But the Easter bunny lays pretty colored eggs. Like pink eggs. Blue eggs with elephant stickers on them. Red eggs with glitter and gold and—-”
“Dad. Those are not real Easter bunny eggs.”
“Huh?”
“Those are March Hare eggs. Big difference.” She put her egg back into the cardboard box and skipped off with it.
Very cute and clever!
Nice little gem, cosi!
Hack
Ah, this explains so very much. Thank you.
You have to think, if the March Hare did lay eggs, they would be strange. Clever little story.
Nice. Kids always come up with stuff like this. I like how she spoke matter-of-factly
Egg hunts are always more exciting with gold. The only problem when your child finds a real gold egg is deciding what the next step will be.
“Daddy, look what I found? Do you think it’s real?” my 7-year-old girl asked looking up to me.
I didn’t think it was real. However, as a jeweler I can always appreciate when people get the color right. What I didn’t expect was that the feel was right. It was cold in the way it should be cold. I then did the ultimate scratch test. Gold is a very soft metal, so I wasn’t sure if this would work. To my amazement, it parted the way it should. It was then that I asked my little girl a very important question:
“Do you got any more?”
She replied ” yes!” Apparently, she had green plastic ones, and blue plastic ones, and even red plastic ones.
She was very excited about this. I sighed and asked her where she found this gold one.
“Over by that goose daddy!”
“By the goose?” I asked, wondering if I had heard right. Wasn’t there a goose that had laid a golden egg in some nursery story? Wouldn’t that be a blessing?
“Can you show me exactly where near the goose?” I asked
“Sure thing!” She exclaimed.
She took me over and spent the next half hour trying to find the exact spot where she found the egg. After much trial, she showed me a spot in the brush where a small egg indentation was at. To my untrained eyes, it looked like a nest. I looked a bit closer and was greeted by a honking and hissing goose coming in our direction. My daughter left running, and I am afraid to admit that I also left in a huff. It wasn’t that I was scared of a goose or anything, but it was just surprising, that’s all.
My mind started to come up with schemes to search more of the area. I went and jumped into a nearby pond and looked around the border. I didn’t see any eggs there. I then climbed the tree nearest to the goose looking for any above ground nests. I didn’t see anything there. By the time I was done I had sticks and twigs buried in my hair, my jeans were muddy, and I was no closer to finding yet another golden egg.
I made a mental note: If I could come back and visit, I would. I would hunt down all those golden eggs. It was then that my daughter said she was hungry. I handed her some snacks but she didn’t want carrots. Before I knew what she was doing she grabbed the golden egg and peeled it. Turns out it was chocolate. Maybe I am not the best jeweler around. I guess, though, I did have a great Easter egg hunt.
The first two sentences really hooked me in, nice!
…one man’s treasure, longtail. Very good.
Hack
Fun piece, I could see the dad up the tree, in the mud, frantically searching.
Strong piece
What came first, the chicken or the egg? I bring that up because often, the whole notion gets swept under the rug. But when your daughter brings home an egg, bright yellow with black spots, the size of a loaf of bread, one should heed the warning. One should gently transport the egg to a remote area and leave it be and hope whatever laid the egg doesn’t mind the disruption.
But that didn’t happen. My daughter, and I don’t blame her directly, I should have taught her better, but she concealed the egg from me. She actually slept with it, keeping it warm and nurtured, safe from harm, until it hatched.
When she came down the stairs that Saturday morning with her hands over her ears and an annoying little big bird in tow, I figured it out. The thing was two feet tall, lanky, a long neck and chatty as a mina bird on steroids. It danced and pranced. It counted and recited song lyrics. It practically made me sick.
Then came the procession from outside. A tuba band played. Children followed and leapt with joy. Parents watched from a safe distance. A frantic police officer with a giant mustache directed traffic. The front door opened and there stood Big Bird, in all his glory. He glared at my daughter who looked sheepish and cowed. Little big bird ran to him and they left, hmmphing and tsking in unison.
I shut the door and turned to my daughter. She picked up a yellow feather and studied it. “In case you’re wondering” she said. “That will never happen again.” I raised my eyebrows, trying to think of what I should say, and I decided to let it go. We both knew I had one up on her.
Cool take. Loved the ending
I liked how you described each character. Like for instance, “A frantic police officer with a giant mustache directed traffic. ” Very nice.
Could have been worse. Could have been a T-Rex egg, John. Nice!
Hack
Loved this, reminded me of how my sons loved Big Bird.
You have me in mood now. I’m going outside now and look for Tweety Bird and then after the Road Runner and Sylvester, put them all in a large box and takeit to my daughters house for Easter lunch.
Big Bird!!!!
t’s a nice great tale which whipped up a nostalgic feeling about big bird. The simplicity of your style perfectly created the illusion of reality for me. Great attempt.
Nicely done. The connection to the yellow-feathered big bird whipped up nostalgic feeling that’s hard to ignore. Your style is simple and believable. Bravely done!