The Lost Egg

As the days went by, the colors faded on the lost egg. Parents and children had moved on, forgetting about it. But for the egg itself, all was not lost. Changes were happening, the egg grew in size, expanding to fill the downspout it had been hidden in. When the rains came and forced it out, there was room to grow once more. Two weeks after Easter, sitting behind a rose bush, it was the size of a basketball, only the hints of color on its pocked surface.

When the next full moon rose, nearly a month after it had been hidden and not found, the egg cracked and the creature emerged, all the colors from the once beautiful egg now imprinted on its scaly surface. Some may have called it garish, some may have said beautiful. There was no denying the lizard like creature was eye catching, its scales glittering in the moonlight, pastel blue and pink with a zig zag of purple across the middle. But with six legs, four eyes, and no visible mouth, it was not like any known species.

The creature zagged up the side of the house in short bursts of speed, until it reached a window on the second floor. It paused there, head and eyes pressed against the glass before moving on.

At the next window the creature paused once again, pressing its head against the glass. This time however, it continued to press, until its head went through the pane, slowly pushing through like a childs thumb through clay. The rest of its body followed, and the creature was in the room. A keen observer might have heard a sound like breaking egg shells as the creature scuttled up from the window frame to the ceiling. But the only observers in the room were a pair of children, twin boys 6 years old, lost in sleep.

The curtains in this room flapped in the wind after the creature left, let in by a hole in the window glass where the creature had gained entrance. Gentle breeze wafted through the room, causing no disturbance to the remaining child.

The morning brought pandemonium. One of the twins was missing. The house was searched, the yard was searched. Police were called. The window was examined extensively. The hole was not large enough for a child to fit through. It was not cut, but more like melted, and no sign of broken or melted glass was found. No footprints, no sign of broken locks or other forced entry. Many questions were asked, and few answers were found.

The detectives cut their visit short. The folks in this house were early risers, but as the morning broke, further reports came in. Children were missing from other rooms in other places. Homes were visited. Questions were asked. Answers unfound.

And then, a stroke of luck, a home with a camera. Something was seen, a sparkly ball of light at the window reflecting the moonlight. The camera could not make it out, it was like trying to focus on a disco ball at the laser show. Inside the room, the nannycam showed a child sleeping in bed, and then the child was gone, the blankets slowly collapsing afterwards. Had this been the only one, the police would have assumed camera tricks and social media pranks. Reports flowed into local precincts like black jellybeans into the trash. Missing children from homes across the country, presumably vanished into thin air, with unexplainable holes in the window or door or even wall. Dozens, hundred, thousands. No demands were received, no usual suspects were rounded up..

Task forces were created. Emergencies declared. The president was informed. Locals banded together. The largest missing child search in history was in progress.

Searchers discovered giant novelty Easter Eggs, hidden away in difficult places. Inside culverts, under bridges, on top of cell towers. A frantic mother, desperately watching social media saw an image of one such egg, found inside a bank vault. The design matched her carefully prepared and photographed eggs she had posted on bookagram for Easter. The ones her now missing child had failed to find all of due to a twisted ankle.

A group of teens, finding one of the giant eggs on the slideway in the abandoned lumber mill, decided to crack it open. Inside was a sleeping child, curled into a ball, fitting just perfectly into the egg. The teens called the sheriff, who hailed them as heroes, told the press the teens had been searching for children, and not the real reason they had been hanging out in an abandoned lumber mill.

Word went out quickly, eggs were cracked all over the country. Missing children woke up once their shells were off. Like the bookagram mother, more eggs were recognized. Detectives started asking new questions, questions that had answers.

"Did you decorate your own eggs this year?"

"Did you use real eggs or plastic?"

"Did you find all the eggs you hid?"

The search continued until all the missing children were found, although it took 2 weeks for the last egg, attop the counterweight of a high rise construction crane.

The status of Easter Egg hunting as an activity remains in question for next year, but one thing is certain. All eggs must be found.