Short Story: The Rebirth

By: Dakota Taufeeq

I found the tiniest little egg. Hidden from the eyes of most, wedged in between the cracks of my patio. My egg, my baby—well not yet. You see, I had to clarify that this egg was truly mine. I might be impulsive, but I am most certainly not a kidnapper. I searched high and low for a nest, but I could not find one nearby no matter how long I looked. I was starting to grow concerned. My egg was so tiny and fragile, and I wanted it to blossom, to grow up from the little baby that it was into an oh-so-glorious child. So I delicately snatched up my little baby and took it inside.

This was my baby, and like mothers who have their baby showers and parties, I had to show my baby off. I called all of my friends to discuss my discovery, but they didn't care. It was their loss, I thought, I'd show them all how great of a mother I could be. I had raised two  successful—albeit wild—fur babies, and I was quite convinced a child would add to my parenting resume. Alas! No longer would I be a mother of two. No! Three! A glorious three, the perfect family, and we would live happily between the walls of our bedroom which would double as our house. 

I found a tiny cup, and I stuffed it with the softest tissue paper, toilet paper, and paper towels that I could find. I crept around my sister's room and plucked her electric blanket right off her bed. I am not a thief; this was for a good cause and could be justified. I had to keep my baby warm. My child was my sister's second niece. I was sure that once my baby grew into a toddler-like state she would love to help feed and play with them. 

As I wrapped my baby's cradle in the warmth of its blanket, I thought of the future. The future in which my child needed me to care for them. The future in which I would hunt bravely outside to provide them with only the best and freshest food. Straight from the earth and right to their mouths. They would grow strong from the nurturing that I would provide, and would soon walk, run, and leap all around the house. I couldn't wait for my future—for our future. Others could hate, but secretly, I would know that they wanted what I had. I would know that in their future, in the dark, they would be searching for a small, helpless child that they could care for.

I let my child lie in its bed for three days, for I did not want to disturb its rapid growth. On the third day I checked on my baby, my beautiful spell–bindingly white baby that would complete my mother-like heart. As I lifted the warm blankets from its cradle, I only saw the eyes of my most demented nightmares staring back. My baby was gone, the once beautiful white stained with an unusually yellow blood. I shed a tear. I tried to think of the future I once planned for myself, but it was tinged with black: a black cradle, a black dress and no warmth. I thought of the future again. I saw a dead man who lay alone in the cold dirt where maggots ate him from the inside out, where worms slithered in through his nose and out through his eyes. This was the place where my baby was going. My baby could no longer be with me. A tear formed. Still, I told myself. Think of the light your baby will provide the world. The earth will become moistened with its remains. As the worms toil in the ground and work it to soil that will help grow the beauty that surrounds you, your baby—no, your egg—will be a part of that. With this, I smiled, and as I placed the egg’s last bits of shell into the earth where it always should have stayed, I thought to the future but not the future with me and the egg, but the future of the life the egg would help provide.