Unique Little Egg

The intricacies… independent and unique.

He sent the order in this morning.

The letter next to her only specified: “Something intellectual and creative.” He often let her have the reins with the eggs, long ago realizing she was more than capable.

She sighs, but a smile spreads across her face.

She loves this… sort of artwork. She has never met another who does it the same as she does. She is meticulous, careful, measured.

But also, she enjoys flaws—though she isn’t sure she can really call them flaws if they are intentional.
She places the finished egg in the basket lined with soft linens.

A soft chime comes from outside her window. She stands and opens the window. She walks back to the table and retrieves the basket.

The basket is filled with intricately designed eggs—each the same, but uniquely different.

She looks out the window, then, as the winds of time blow past, she places the basket in the beak of the stork.

Similar Posts

  • God Awful Reminder

    The light flickered… the landscape, reflected and mirrored, stretches out, filling the expanse. The little pieces are placed—trees and bushes set, and then adjusted perfectly. The intricate details were difficult to manage, but these… miniature, small… diminutive… I am not even sure anymore what to call them. They are detailed and seem perfect for the…

  • Special Delivery

    The cracked sidewalk led up to the creaky steps of the old Victorian house. He took a deep breath… and began walking up to the porch just above the stairs. With each step, it felt like he was walking in molasses. Slowly, his legs felt heavier the closer he got. At the steps, he struggled…

  • Thread by Thread

    Rhythmic and regular, the click and swish continue incessantly.Each thread woven in sequence, layering side by side.Slowly the colors emerge, interwoven amidst the threads designed to strengthen.The cut of the fabric is shaped and molded.Every stitch, meticulous; every fold, crucial. The narrative robed in cloth.

  • Perfect

    The plateau, a mesa of warmth and woven shadow, beckoned to the benefactor and watcher alike, promising sights heretofore unseen in a mystical dance never beheld before, and in dreams never to be viewed again. Forgoing the temptation, the benefactor sat briefly on the edge of the plateau, legs dangling, then slid over and slowly…

  • Just In Time

    The fog-laden evening chilled him to the bone as he stood beneath the street lamp. “I am getting too old for this,” he mutters. The juxtaposing hard-soft glow of the lamps created an eerie duality of light on the street. The longshadows dancing in the wind-blown lamplight. The headlights shine on him briefly as the…