An Odd Egg

Odd egg. Wrong egg. Not the one that mother initially has borne.

Where was the right one? What happened to it? Who stole the poor mother's happiness?

Looking into the stranger's eyes after the egg has hatched, she never got an answer.

She fed the stranger but never loved it. She taught the stranger but never accepted it as her own. She held the stranger in her shaking arms but never forgave it.

The nestling grew, hated and hungry. Even when the poor mother has left the nest, not being able to stand it, the nestling waited with an open mouth.

The nestling should’ve died. But it hasn't.

It crawled inside its eggshell and waited. Waited, waited, waited. Always waited.

Other creatures visited now, a fledgling. Some tried to help, some only laughed at the bird who never learned how to fly.

The fledgling got bitter and angry. It jumped off the nest. In the mere seconds of fall it felt proud, and, for once, meaningful.

The fledgling broke its neck. Its weak wings. Its crooked spine. Its twisted legs.

The fledgling should’ve died. But it hasn't.

The fledgling made itself a cape out of eggshell pieces, twigs and grass from its nest. It grew into an odd bird - it feared the sky and hid under the dirt.

It slept and dreamed of something it could never be. It dreamed about the love of its mother, of friendship with other critters and of flight.

It watched the butterflies on the flowers and envied them so much that it caught them, tore their wings off and wore them as a crown.

The weak should obey the strong, it thought.

In the end, the bird has learned only one hing - to hate. It was the first and the last gift from its mother.

The bird should've died. But it hasn't. Parasites are told to be very hard to get rid of.