A Horrible Thing

It's not uncommon for dinosaurs to forget what it was like before they see their first light outside the egg. Afterall, it's most normal to hatch and be greeted by the warm snorting of your parent. The cooing, the gentle chittering- or if a hatchling is fortunate enough, they may even hear the trumpeting roars of a happy herd to celebrate their full arrival. 

But not all are so fortunate; not all are so forgetful. 

He knew that before, he was warm. And very sturdy wherever he was. While he would occasionally get rolled and jostled by whatever existed outside, he knew he was safe. Something outside the shell called to him, it bleated to him and while he never fully had the lungs to call back- something deep within understood he needed to remember that cry. He wanted to replicate it but he couldn’t just yet and that was okay. 

Whatever sat outside his shell was so tender and careful; it was so so warm. And he was certain it would be there whenever he was ready to break from this place. He was certain because every time he started to grow cool, a wave of something covered him. And it would warm the entire space around his shell. He knew it would be there for him, because every time he started to get uncomfortable on one side- it rotated him, or it flipped him, and he was always so much more cozy with the new position it turned him to. 

Whoever was outside of this case, this egg, it loved him. And he loved it too. 

With each day he remembers getting more cozy; but then more cramped. No matter how he tried to complain about it, the voice outside didn’t seem like it knew it needed to grow his egg in size. Surely it could do that if it knew, it seemed like it could do everything. But with each growing day, he began to become less and less comfortable in this egg. His legs took up too much space, far too much, he was beginning to wish he could stretch his legs. 

While an understanding deep inside urged him to break the shell, he didn’t necessarily have a grand desire to break free from paradise. He liked what he n’ the voice had going- he didn’t want that to change. 

But it would have to. His back was too strained here- and his tail was beginning to take up too much space too. He just wanted to make sure he knew the voice was there. So he waited, and waited.. becoming annoyingly cool before he realized something was off. 

The voice was outside, but it wasn’t normal. He’d never heard it sound like that before. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the sounds made his body tense. 

And then he was tumbling. He was spinning and spinning- why would it do that? The voice had never done this before! This was too much, too rough! 

And what was that noise? That wasn’t the voice at all. And it was freezing now- he felt it towards his tail. As the heat began to sap from his body he let out an uncomfortable noise. He’d never made a noise before, but it was so cold- it hurt. This hurt. It was so cold and he hated it. 

His body twisted and wriggled in the tight space, he could feel the shell near his head strain against the pressure. So he pushed with his feet and the egg strained there too. But it wasn’t enough to break free. 

All those horrible noises outside- they were horrifying. He didn’t know who or what it was. It just droned on and on. He could hear the voice making too many uncomfortable noises, his instincts were screaming to be still but he couldn’t bear the cold. 

Beginning to thrash in his shell, he could feel the egg jostle back and forth with his efforts. Another tumble and now all of the cold was on one full side of the egg. He couldn’t take this- he’d surely die if he stayed. 

So he did what he didn’t want to do. He pecked, he kicked, he thrashed his head about in the way that felt most natural. And soon enough he heard a snap in the shell. 

The once slightly muffled noises began to become more clear. A loud crack, a shrill roar of pain- it was so horrid. He hesitated to strike his shell again. But the noises got closer- and the voice- he could hear it clearer too.

It screamed, it cried. It made him want to run. The chill creeping up his body was only a further call to fight against the shell. So he did. He head butted it, breaking the case further and further- until he felt his arms reach for the first time. 

They grabbed at the edge of the shell without thought and pushed it forward, snapping it more and more. One wet leg finally kicked free; it felt so good to finally stretch a leg. The shell properly began to give way. 

His body rolled and tumbled out, taking only a brief satisfaction in the sound of a crunching shell. 

Outside the egg was… cool. Not as cold as whatever it sat in. 

He blinked. Eyes attempting to adjust. 

The world was… dark.. not as dark as inside the egg though. And there were things everywhere. Slowly craning his head to the side, the egg shell began to move away from him. Without his weight in it, pieces of it floated away into something he could tell was cold. 

Some clear liquid that touched at his foot. Whatever it was- it chilled him. Its what hurt him before in the shell, he hated it. 

Curling in on himself, he haphazardly scooted away. The ground beneath him was cold too, cold and squishy. His feet pushed it around until they hit earth firm enough to let him move away. He awkwardly pushed and kicked, scooting across the ground and collecting soil on his sticky skin. He writhed until something brushed his back. 

Looking up, he saw long strands of.. something billow above him. They were attached to the ground by his dusty rump. And when a gust blew by- they shivered just like he did. 

The world sounded.. weird. It was quiet now. Very quiet. Instincts urged him not to break the silence. Something was wrong. 

The air was heavy with something. He didn’t need to breathe very deeply to smell it- but the smell felt organic. It reminded him of the inside of the egg. 

As feet began to shiver and his body began to tremble, he attempted to scoot further into the weird billowing strands. They matched his color better than anything else, he wanted to hide. He already missed the coverage of the egg shell. 

chk. chk. chk. chk. 

Something low chittered and rumbled in the air. He ducked as close to the ground as he could. 

chk. chk. chk. chk. 

It repeated the noise. Over and over until a separate noise responded to it, mimicking that cry. He hid in the strands of the earth, listening as two strangers called back to one another from a distance. And when that distance closed, he heard what had to be the worst noise ever. Something… ripping. It reminded him of the sounds of the egg shell. Like a film bursting and tearing. 

The voice cried out, but it wasn’t right. It sounded so small now. It bleated and wailed before it was cut off by a quiet hiss and snap. 

He blinked and curled up. It was so cold here. 

Where was the voice? What was it doing? Why wasn’t it warming him? 

He could hear something scraping against the ground, a dull noise that paired with footsteps. It got further and further as those nasty chitters did.

Whatever was out there was beginning to leave. So where was the voice? He wanted the voice. He didn’t care about all the chittering or the scraping. He wanted to be warm again. He wanted to be talked to again. Where was his love? Why did he get thrown around? 

The questions repeated over and over in his little mind while his body grew chilled. The strands from the earth offered coverage from the cold wind- but it was more than clear that his tiny body did a poor job at containing heat. 

He blinked slowly. Letting his eyes lull shut and letting the world be dark again for awhile. 

If this is what the world had to offer for him, he didn’t want it. He’d just close his eyes and drift away like he always did in the egg. Maybe when he drifted back, the voice would be here. Maybe it would make everything warm again, maybe it’d explain why it made him so cold before. 

And maybe it’d go back to loving him. 

…

Some time passed and unlike ever before, a bright light shone over his eyes. Too bright he’d argue, but it was warm. It made his aching limbs soothe and relax a little more. And it made the world around him so much more different. 

The strands of the earth he took shelter in, they were so much brighter now then they were before. The dazzling colors were unlike anything he’d ever imagined. Even just looking up into the air, he could see different warm colors dance across the sky. 

The world seemed more alive, and it was definitely more warm.  

Something within urged him to move. Using a leg to try and push up, he tumbled over onto his side. So he tried again, using the other leg and tumbling forward to catch himself on his arms. 

He tried a third time- a forth- until eventually his tumbling became a stumble on his own two feet. One wobbly leg forward, then another; it felt weird to have to use them like this, but it felt nice once he made it clear of the billowing strands. 

Looking around, the world was vibrant. And when he stood in the bright colors the sky casted down- he felt warm and cozy. He called out to it- to the bright dot, just to make sure that wasn’t the voice. 

It didn’t seem like the right fit, but the lack of a response ensured that no, the warmth from here wasn’t the same warmth from the voice. It was annoying, but okay. He’d have to keep looking.

Venturing forward, he found a lot of a new color. One that came with a wretched smell. It was that same organic smell from when he hatched- and it scattered the earth in violent splatters. It was everywhere. And alongside it sat a sleuth of clues. 

Footsteps ran all over, all much bigger than the ones he made. And drag marks painted an uncomfortable sense of movement across the clearing- making the color smear and blend with the dirt and stone. Crushed egg shells of others laid scattered about, but he couldn’t see who hatched. No one else seemed like they were around. 

He bleated out to make sure. A shrill call of distress, hoping for someone, anyone, to call back. But no one did. 

It made him nervous, he didn’t understand why, but his instincts warned against a closer investigation of the color. He needed to move on. So he did. 

Walking the other direction from the weird scene seemed like the best idea. So his two little feet carried him forward on the horizon. 

With every answerless call however, he began to wonder if he would even be able to find that voice who loved him. 

And every passing hour, the answer became more clear: he was alone now.