A Life Yet To Be Lived

I don't even know why I wrote this or how I got the inspiration to but here it is anyways

The youngling yet to be born, encased in a fragile, spherical case, awaiting the world outside it to become known, sat precariously upon its intricately woven nest. Precariously, as the altitude at which it sat was quite extraordinary. Though its surroundings went unbeknownst to the tender being, it was genuinely a stunning sight. So stunning, in fact, it looked as though the egg was but a few brush strokes incorporated into a complicated landscape built on acrylics. Massive trees were positioned across a vast meadow of wood, and wildlife consumed the forest floor as though there weren’t another place in the world they could grow. The brushes and brambles were huddled together to appear as a garden wall, perhaps to conceal predators from their prey’s oblivious mindset.

If the pale fetus were to look out unto the landscape that sat respectfully before it (that’s to say if it was able), it would appear to it as a bramble of wonder spread across a vast ocean of life. Filled to the brim with creatures of all sorts, an effortless expedition was to be found at every corner, even if it wasn’t what you sought to begin with. Peering out into the world from the flimsy branch of the birch tree its nest was sat on, the egg felt a sense of peace grow within itself, though it could not yet actually see.

The bustling of children could be heard from the high branch where the egg was seated; obnoxiously noisy and vexatious as ever.

Children could always be found chasing one another or scaling the tallest of trees that were littered among the forest. Some the forest creatures felt a connection to, and were generally admired among the forest. Others, the occupants felt a burning hatred for; those who would intentionally shatter the lives of few residents of the wood. It was a debated subject among the inhabitants, whether something should be done about it. Many argued that, because they were but children, they should be let go. Everyone knew, however, that these children were well aware of the destruction being caused due to their insufferable actions.

A soft breeze became just strong enough, if only for an instant, to gently shove the egg to its side. The breeze ceased, but the positioning of the egg did not stop. It could feel vibrations coming from farther down the live structure. At one point, a branch snapped, but the movement did not stop. The egg had continued rolling around its nest, though not on it’s on accord.

Then it ended. The violent shaking of the tree had ceased and the egg was put at ease once more. Eventually, after a few minutes, they started up again. The egg had come to the realization that a child was scaling the slender tree.

The child had to have reached the altitude of which the egg was at, because the tree had begun to bend. The child was rather large, larger than the others, and spent a long time affixing himself to a branch. The egg observed a conversation that bounced between both the kid in the tree and the ones huddled below.

“Did you find a branch you won’t snap?” A cheeky voice shouted.

“Yeah, yeah,” the kid cried, a snarky tone etched into his voice. He took a moment to glance around and take in the wondrous surroundings. For a moment, his eyes met the egg.

“Hey! I think there’s a bird nest up here!” The child called down.

“Any eggs?” a feminine voice cried.

“Just one!” he cried in return.

“You know what kind it is?” an unfamiliar voice spoke up.

“How am I supposed to know?” The child laughed. He glanced around once more, and a villainous smile sprawled onto his face. Repositioning himself on the opposite side of the tree, he lowered himself a smidge to get a good hand on the egg. He caressed it for a moment, then slid it into his loose pocket. The boy began to ascend once more, as high as the tree could bear his weight.

“Eyes peeled, Seth!” The child cried, his smirk enlarged. With a single swipe of his hand, the egg was released from the boy’s pocket. He held the egg firmly in his upright hand, and in the smallest movement, his hand flipped. The fetus was in gravity’s hands now.

The free fall was relatively short lived, as was the life yet to be experienced. The brief moments nothing was supporting the egg but air, it had no choice but to imagine the life it was supposed to live. The marvelous, vibrant colors of the transitioning seasons, the air that was to be felt over its feathered wings. A life that was to be lived, but never got the chance.

A glimpse of hope was to be found, however, as the boy named Seth’s hands made careful and calculated movements as to catch the fragile being.

Landing, the youngling yet to be born, encased in a fragile, spherical case, awaiting the world outside it to become known, was shattered due to the fierce impact made on the parched trail of the forest floor.