Dragon Egg

It was a warm sunny afternoon. Mrs. Bonniville stood in the kitchen, clearing away the last of the mess before her children got home from school. She sighed, know that the room would be messy again within a few minuets of her children's arrival. Finally finished, she sank down into a chair to enjoy her last moments of quiet for the day.

With a sudden crash the front door flew open, and the three Bonniville children streamed in. "Mama, Mama," exclaimed eight- year-old Carrie, "We saw the Hatchers on the way home, and they said that the egg is going to hatch today!"

"Well then, we had better go on down to the hatchery," said Mrs. Bonniville with a smile. "Jake, go get the big picnic basket." While her oldest child went to get the basket, Mrs. Bonniville quickly made sandwiches to put in it. Then she loaded her family into the car and they drove to the outskirts of town where the hatchery was located. Word had travelled quickly, and the parking lot was already nearly full when they arrived.

Mrs. Bonniville had been to many hatching throughout her life and view the affair with calm practicality, but she enjoyed watching her children's excitement. The hatching was the herald of spring. When the hatching came, people knew that the cold, dreary winter was over. Throughout the day would be the Hatching Fair. The townspeople had been preparing for weeks, and the many rides and booths were already set up in the north field. It was a time for the people to get out and socialize with each other.

Mrs. Bonniville enjoyed the fair, but she knew that it was just a cover to hide the people's tension. Behind every adult's words lied the stress of the hatching and it's uncertain predictions. What would the hatchling be? They hoped for a green hatchling--one that would comfort them with the promise of a good year--but they feared it would come out black. Black was the symbol of ruin, failure and death. Last year's hatchling had been green, but many remembered the year of the black hatchling before that. Either way, the hatchling itself would be celebrated, for it taught the people what to do. If it was a green year, the people would know that they might till their fields and make investments without fear. In a black year, it was wise to hoard one's money and save the seed crop for a better time.

Despite the evidence, there were a few who opposed the hatching's influence on society. As she sat under a tree, Mrs. Bonniville heard one these people speaking behind her. She recognized him as Mr. Mallard, one of the most outspoken of the anti-hatching group. He was talking to Mr. Stewart, a conservative and stubborn farmer. "We should not rely on the hatching to direct our lives. Mankind should choose his own path!" exclaimed Mr. Mallard.

"Only a fool would not listen to the hatchling's prediction." said Mr. Stewart crustily.

"Dragon eggs can't predict the future." Mr. Mallard replied. "People make the predictions, and it's people that make them come true."

Mr. Stewart frowned. "What about two years ago when the black dragon hatched? There was a famine that year."

"And do you know why there was a famine that year?" Mr. Mallard's voice gained new energy, "Because none of the farmers grew any food! They were all so afraid of a bad year that nobody even planted anything!"

Mr. Stewart's frown deepened into a scowl. "You ought not to go around saying things like that, Mallard. You'll get yourself in trouble." With that Mr. Stewart stalked away. Mr. Mallard heaved a weary sigh, and wandered off in another direction.

The day progressed, and soon evening stretched out across the land. The Bonniville children, tired of the fair now, sat down with their mother and ate the picnic dinner. As the first stars glimmered dimly in the dark sky, people began moving toward the hatchery. Inside the large building tension was mounting. The egg would hatch soon. The Hatchers, the people who took care of the egg, had placed it on a large dais at the front of the room. Mrs. Bonniville lifted up her youngest child to give her a good look at the large metallic egg nestled in the sawdust on the platform.

A loud pop came from the egg, and silence suddenly blanketed the room. With agonizing slowness a small crack appeared and worked it's way down the side of the egg. With each second Mrs. Bonniville felt the pressure mount. What would the hatchling be? Would the farmers plant their seeds this year? Would businesses continue to make investments? Would the McClearys build that house new house, would the Davidsons go on that vacation they had been planning, and would Mr. Bonniville's boss give him the raise they so desperately needed?

With a startling suddenness the egg burst open. A stunned gasp went through the room, as the shimmering purple dragon gave a soft snort and then flew up out the opening in the roof above.