Thesis Of The Egg

Reads: 114  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 1

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story is based on a true happening in March 23. What turned out as a normal night would serve as an inspiration for this.

Submitted: June 22, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 22, 2017

A A A

A A A


It was a peaceful night on the 23rd of March. The sun has set and darkness surrounds the city. From there, I had a nice day. No issue or mental disease plagued me fiercely, and the weak ones were brushed away and perpetually forgotten, never to be spoken of again. In these circumstances, such day is a gift, and a gift to be cherished, for days ago I fell into a storm of anxiety and the clouds full of depression. They spoke: 

"Suicide is an option. It is the only solution, for death is more easier to live in than life itself."

The mind had to rest, but it would take time for the winds of chaos to go away.

Despite this peace, I am not clear. The storm could come back again, and thus, must be walked with wariness. , I build walls for myself and place my happiness over friendship. In caution, I walk, and in search of happiness I beware.

However, one thing threatened me that night, and it is a rebellion of acids. My stomach pleaded for food once more. It is like I provide its welfare, for I am responsible for such a beggar, it who does not wait much and cries a lot for its nutrition. I told him "I shall make you an egg. No, four eggs, to feed you." That satisfied the stomach, who did not want not 2, nor 3, but 4 eggs. 

Hence, I prepared the kitchen for breakfast in the night, commencing a ritual to the food gods. It is clear that I did not do it well; I didn't find a tool to flip the eggs. That is where I used a knife. 

On other aspects, I did well. I grabbed the vegetable oil, the bowl, salt, and eggs. I placed the eggs on a table while I was preparing the ritual, ready to give myself nutrition so I can survive. 

Meanwhile, the eggs knew their fate. They knew they would be offerings to the giant grabbing the ritualistic tools, moving around to place them to commence the sacrifice. It is a fate they all knew, to socialize with the egg, cool down with the rest of the other eggs and delicacies surrounding them before the giant grabs them out and places them in a group. Not many eggs know what happens next, but some tell of how their comrades get set next to each other. They are all scared but brave. They must not show fear, but the contents inside them stir with anxiety. One by one, an egg is grabbed, no longer touching the alien floor, and horror is upon the others as they witness the slow death of their companions, their shells cracked severely, their screams muffled and crying yolk before their contents get spilled onto the bowl, and their hard remains thrown near the survivors. 

This time, it was different, for one egg cannot take the fear anymore. He broke out, and moved a nudge. The egg began to move, the giant not watching. The others observed as the egg moved closer and closer towards the edge of the table. In time, the egg fell, out of their view, and smashed on the floor. The impact was fatal, for the egg broke and its insides spilled on the floor. 

Notice was now imminent, and the ritual was delayed, for I now  noticed what happened: One of the eggs, in my words "has committed suicide." Even though I jested the phrase, it was there that a thought cracked in my head, from there began the pondering.

I looked at the egg, its yolk now spilled on the floor and the egg planted there like a boy with its head down. I began to wonder the egg...and hence I gave it humanity 

It had worth. I would have eaten that egg, but now it is broken, on the dirty floor, yolk now tainted. What a waste. 

Implications are realized.

The egg was scared, afraid and nervous. Instead of having the potential to be useful, to serve the stomach, it fell to its death. It once had worth, and its worth would have potential, but now what potential is there now? It is nothing. 

For a moment, for a small moment, my thoughts mourned the egg. 

One less egg for my stomach.

I reflected it once, and left it to being in obscurity as an idea. Now, I see further. For that egg, it is one of us. We are no different to eggs: We are born, we exist, and we die. We all live to do something meaningful for our lives. For the egg, it is dying to become a meal. For us, we die knowing we lived life to the fullest. 

That egg did not live its life to the fullest. It fell and killed itself. 
That human did not live its life to the fullest. It fell and killed itself.

Both stressed about their worth and fears, and in the end, ended it all. 

The egg's death won't go unnoticed. I noticed it. 
Just like that, a suicide won't go unnoticed. Somebody will notice, and just like I for a brief moment, except more perpetually, will miss said individual. 

We all have worth, like an egg. Do not nudge and fall off the edge. Just live and be useful to yourself and to the world...


© Copyright 2017 Flavius Nonus Aeolus. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Flavius Nonus Aeolus

Popular Tags