THe Golden Egg
Three months after the annual Easter egg hunt at Grammy and Papa’s, Ezra still had his basket filled with plastic eggs, each promising to contain a chocolate treat. My basket was emptied less than 24 hours following the hunt. I glared at him now, my mouth curled in a frown I saved for such an occasion as this.
“Come on, share. I’ll share mine next year, promise!” The vow was at best half-hearted and at worst, an all-out lie. We both knew that I never shared, but the ache that panged my stomach, no, my heart, when I thought of how Ezra probably wouldn’t ever eat his candy, was too much to keep me honest.
Ezra just shook his head in his usual “ignore her and she’ll go away” manner. I bit my lip. I knew where the basket of uneaten goodies was hidden. I would sneak one egg; he would never know. It’s not like he ever visited the cache; he didn’t even really care about it, only needing to horde it like a dragon with gold.
The light peeking from under Ezra’s bedroom door blackened, it was time. I tip-toed, the footies of my jammies padding silently on the carpet. The doorknob whispered gently as I turned it and let myself into the dragon’s lair. I will steal his treasure, I thought wickedly. Kneeling to make my arm reach without having to brace myself, I reached and pulled the Easter basket from under Ezra’s bed. A plastic bucket with ducks holding umbrellas against a background of green and blue, filled to the brim with colorful plastic eggs.
Tempted to take more than just one, my mouth watered at the sight of all that uneaten chocolate. Carefully, I chose a gleaming golden egg, the line where it would split to reveal the treat inside, faint in the dark of the room.
Gently, I tucked the egg in my pocket, slid the easter basket back to its hiding place and padded my way to safety. The hall welcomed me in silent freedom. The walk to my room was short, my hand deep in my pocket, caressing the egg the whole way. My own door closed behind me, theft completed and prize in hand, I curled my legs up under me in the nest of blankets that were piled on my bed.
The gold egg shone now, my bedside lamp tilted just so to spotlight the treasure, while keeping away from the gap at the bottom of my own door giving away the fact that I was awake and not tucked in as I should be.
I studied the egg, the plastic shell slightly bumpy under my fingertips, a flaw in the manufacturing I presumed and set to press the center, to force the egg open. Nothing. Furrowing my brow, determined to consume the yummy delight before going to bed, I concentrated, placed my hands, one on each end of the egg and pulled. The trick rewarded no such luck to reveal the chocolate inside, and I huffed.
Maybe the egg wasn’t the kind to open I thought, disappointed at the possibility that I had chosen poorly. I eyed my bedroom door thinking of whether or not I dared to venture into Ezra’s room again. I would take more than one this time, just to be sure to give my failure the best chance of reconciliation. I imagined dumping the whole of the basket into my pockets, holding my arms in a bowl shape to make my own basket. Then making my way back to my nest of blankets to feast on the spoils.
As I contemplated the journey, the plastic egg which would not open, quivered in my hand. My eyes darted to the phenomenon, confused and curious. The oblong sphere seemed to warm, a line of sun lighting at the fine hairline fissure marking the center diameter of the egg. My breath caught in my chest painfully as I waited to see if the hallucination was indeed real, or simply punishment for the thievery I was planning.
Pulling my pillow around to my lap I laid the egg there and watched. The sunlight within grew, cracking the egg’s shell into odd geometric lines. My heart pounded harder and harder until I could not hear anything but the roar of my own blood.
With a burst the sun inside the egg flared, making the shell crumble in a neat circular pile. The gold egg gone, and instead of holding chocolate or some other wonderful Easter treat, there on my pillow in the dim light of my room was curled a tiny green dragon, gold flecking the tips of his scales.
