Monday, 19 September 2016


The Parish council of Romania thought it would be a magical experience for the children to run round looking for eggs.

But did they think about the eggs? No.
No they didn’t think about the eggs destroyed, I saw my siblings murdered, smashed to pieces. Their yolks stain the forest floor. Some of us were never found, left to rot.
The children grabbed us, crushed us slowly, tried to eat us. We were positioned at our posts, under rocks, overlooking wooden, twisting staircases and next to seas that only flowed one way.

It wasn’t only the children that destroyed our army, though. We were attacked the previous night, too. First the territorial tribes came: vultures, lions, wolves ate us and if they didn’t eat us they tormented us by licking us, poking us... but were tame with the giants.
Then we had to survive the night, natural disasters picked us off, landslides, floods. The floods came from above and hit us like rocks. We nearly got our yolks spilt.

As the sun rose we thought it was all over. It was calm, the wolves were still there, but this time they were on ropes held by giants. We peered out over the battle field. The heat warmed us, took away the flood but it wasn’t calming for long. We remembered our original assignment, to stand our ground against the children and be “found”.

The battle was a vicious one, neither side backed down, yoks were spilt, fingers were pricked. Most of the murdering was at the start, the poorly positioned ones were scouted out immediately, but as the day went on, less were murdered; we weren’t found as easily. Under my rock I was untouched, physically speaking; but I was tormented mentally by the scream of eggs as they were mercilessly crushed, their shells crunching by the giants’ hands.

Eventually the sky darkened. The clouds were grey; it started flooding. The giants were scared of floods, they ran away under the cover of huge leaves on sticks.
Why were they afraid? They weren’t going to be hurt by it...
I’m not complaining though. Floods are deadly for eggs, as I have witnessed, but not as deadly as the giants. Well, that’s what I thought...

As the ground got more soaked and slippy, my cover of rock started lowering, but by the time I noticed it was too late. I was sinking into the ground, suffocating, not able to breathe.
It was dark but I could still hear.

I am sixty now.
They finally rescued me from inside the ground. I was taken in a box and put on a huge bird. It was freezing in there. I had no clue what was going to happen to me. My shell was numb.

I got taken into a huge room, placed inside a glass box to be stared at by giants, never to walk freely again.

by Tom Harrison

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