Conversation with the Anariarch's Egg

Conversation with the Anariarchs Egg

I was sitting in my Garden one warm evening, reading a book, as usual, by a fire. I sipped fermented dew left over from the morning and enjoyed the cool liquid swimming down my throat. The book was intriguing, with stories of far away places in space and time. It spoke of ships and the people on them; of wars and politics, of honor and decay. I gaze into the fireplace and wonder if I could dream of these places. Alas, only time will tell. Mid-through my reverie I heard a sound. A somewhat familiar sound, but I could not put my ear to it. It came from the Aviary, my sanctuary for natures flight loving creations. What seemed at the sounds behest, I stood from my seat and set my book on my chair, great and comfortable. I poked the fire to stir it from its rest and walked across my garden toward the Aviary. Along the way I notice a Toad and a Scorpion gazing toward the Aviary, their great debate halted by the what now seemed to be the chirp of a bird. But none of this is unusual, I thought, as I slowly approached the iron doors to the Aviary. Toucans, Parakeets, Eagles, and even Vultures can be heard making a myriad of noises, both chirps and screeches. But this sound was on a whole different tone; it almost seemed to squeak.
The slightly warmer air of the Aviary hits my face as I glide into the wide, tall open space of a dome. There are trees from all continents here, and toys littered here and there. I have done my best to make a safe haven for my winged wonders, with ample space to soar high and dive low. But at once my glide is halted, with barely a foot in the dome; I hear a thing that stops my heart; for there is only silence beside the chirp.

They are all quiet.

All the avens are still as pins, I assume they are awestruck at the sound that led me here. I look back into my Garden and can see flowers blooming in this evening; this is truly rare. The trees and plants, and all the critters here have turned their gaze toward the dome, and laid their eyes upon my brow, urging me to seek out the source of this soft chirping. Roses and Tulips turn their blooms toward the dome; Centipedes and Millipedes halt their scurrying and raise their heads at the sound so soft. They egg me on and I comply, entering the dome and leaving the door open, should a leaf or twig decide to follow. I step forward and walk toward my right hand side, attempting to peer through the leaves and trees as if my Eyes could identify what my Ears could not. The path become thick with foliage, and I pass by many a still bird. I walk toward a clearing, pausing only to say “Hello.” to a brother Parrot. He replies in turn and turns his head back toward the sound and the open clearing. And there, at the edge of the clearing, which lay twelve feet wide, against the wall, I spied a nest. A nest! Oh, how my heart leapt for joy, almost as much my body as my legs carry me hurriedly toward the nest and sound; for it is obvious what the chirping was. I slow my pace once more, and walk softly toward the nest. It was anchored slightly above the ground, built atop a metal beam that protruded from the wall of the dome. It was made of newspaper and twigs, and within it lay what caused the entire Garden to skip a heartbeat. My eyes grew wide as I stared at two oval white eggs, laid by two cockatiels, a female I called Glue, and a male I called Grey. I see both proud parents at the edge of the beam, staring intently at me and then back at their nest. The parents gaze told me the chirping had alerted them as well, and the three of us simply stared into the nest, in utter silence.

chirp

Oh my dear Lord within, it was such a blessing to hear! The sound was coming from one of the eggs, just ready to hatch and spring forth the new life within. The parents screeched in elation, and began to sing. Other avens came from all corners of the Aviary to see this miracle; not seen for Ages. It would take me the better part of a year to remember the last moment I witnessed a new life in the Aviary. This was truly a blessing. The egg was still solid, not a crack; but the chirping could be heard easily. I was awestruck and cooing; I am not ashamed to admit. I gazed deep into the nest and began to speak to my new egg. I welcomed it into the world, and spoke of the untold wonders that await it in this new world called ‘Life’. The parents began to pair and kiss each other, their love flowing from each other and into their new child. My senses return and I immediately ran back out into the Garden. I scream to all, Tree, Toad, and Twig; “We have Life! Life amidst our blackened hearts!” Clock, Table and Fire, sang a chord. Tree, Twig and Toad, let out a moan. Flowers blossomed as if doused in sunlight. This night is truly magical. I could even hear my fermentation machine begin to churn, making new brews for me and mine. I ran into the House, and collected a myriad of objects. A book to read to the child. A syringe to help feed it. A rattle for it to play with. A lamp to heat the baby childs frail body. With my cargo in tow, I scurried past the celebrating Garden and back toward the nest.

It had already hatched. And His eyes met mine, and at once I was knocked off my feet.

I woke from my dream to a dying fire and a bent book. I gaze around me, and quickly recovered my bearings.

It was only a dream.

I shake off my slumber, and begin to ponder on the dream. A new life. Here. Of all places. Truly a dream. I stand and stretch this evening, and the Garden begins to sleep, as should I.

Yet I barely take a first step, when I hear a sound that rocked me to my core. A soft, child like sound that could only be writ as a:

chirp