Sabreen  

Chapter 2 – The Golden Egg  

Background: Gabriel, Sabreen’s Father, is reading her a story. The mother wrote this story, along with Sabreen, they made the pictures, and a book. There are a few stories in their collection like this, but this one is Sabreen favourite. Invariably, Sabreen's mother puts her to bed.

And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
Dover Beach - Matthew Arnold 

Gabriel. eyed the words and flipped the pages without saying a word. 

“Daddy, read to me,” Sabreen said. “You promised.” 

“I know sweetie. I’m just looking...it’s just a little...unusual.” 

“Daddy!” 

“I know. I’m ah...ah...just getting my bearings. Okay, here we go.” 

The Golden Egg 

Interest in the Golden Egg had greatly diminished over the years; where once rumour of its discovery captured the imagination of nations where media would call upon so called experts, followed by interviewing citizens in the streets who, invariably, took long pauses to answer a question they knew very little about; a pause which could only add to the mystery and intrigue of the golden egg. They would peer to their upper left as if they in fact held the secret of its whereabouts and hid it deep within their skull along with other dusty knick knacks and antiques if they could only recall where they had hid it.  

“Sweetie, are you sure about this?” Gabriel asked. 

“You can ask Mommy when she comes.” 

Gabriel swallowed loudly. He smiled pitifully at Sabreen. He looked at the pages and envisioned Sabreen sitting in her Mother’s lap, colouring the pages. He could see his wife tilting her head and flinging her long hair to the side; keeping out of Sabreen’s face.  

“That’s a wonderful idea, sweetie,” he said. “I think I may ask her ask...her...that.” He repeated the last sentence before continuing. 

If they could only recall where they had hid it. 

The golden egg was said to be a source of never-ending economic wealth and provided a level of indestructibility to its possessor. It was said to be gilded with a filigree so intricate, many believed that it was an ancient language from long ago; others said the carvings were merely a depiction of leaves and vines from the original garden; while others dismissed these tender notions altogether as lavish machinations, describing the egg as a simple, symmetrical egg from the hand of a carpenter. Regardless of what belief one ascribed to, no one dismissed the possibility of its existence entirely. Regardless of one’s belief, there remained no man who questioned its mystical power. Whenever one would speak of the egg, one would cup their hands, framing the space in a circle in front of their chest with their thumb and index fingers in a serious yet dismissive manner once the pair of thumbs and fingers ultimately parted.  

Oddly, talk of war had also quieted down, where once the television and radio would report on the most trivial facts atop images that could have been from any previous war, even they too could not report on any material occurrence. It seemed a natural equilibrium had been reached between the two warring factions, no further land could be conquered or lost as all sides were firmly entrenched and, through analyzing all the various military scenarios, both sides proved to be ultimately prepared. Citizens on both sides, conditioned after so many years, despised each other instinctively. They found it difficult to recount a day where these feelings of blind hatred did not exist. And although the citizens could not describe any single idealogy that separated them, regardless on which side one sat, one side was viewed as bent on spreading terror while the other was seen as a conqueror. However, this respite from war was a welcome change. Where once air raid sirens would suddenly pierce through the streets shattering the laughter and gentle play of children bouncing balls against the cobblestone forcing the children to scurry to safety followed by the sound of doors slamming behind their steps; it was now replaced by the inspired shrieking from the unexpected, magical bounce of a ball on the elevated edge of a cobblestone, causing a ball to return to its thrower instantly in a manner that can only delight the wonderous heart of a child. Or so it once seemed. Even this wonder transcended the children to their parents as, ostensibly, this wonder and magic had slowed down the pace of all life in the city. Where once chores and daily household tasks were rushed through, they now involved a reward altogether their own, as women hung laundry from lines spanning adjacent balconies that lined the streets, the rows of pinned clothes and fabrics giving the impression of banners filling the streets above the innocent play of children, a portrait once only imagined but now realized. And from the balconies, mothers would press their open hands and palms against their chins and cheeks as if their face were a floral arrangement requiring a vase; their elbows rested on the balcony railings with a glint in their eye; a single beam of light piercing through the grey skies where hope could finally swoop down the celestial slide – delighting all the way down. Serenity had poked out its head, slowly tiptoed out while readying its pivot to return at a moment’s notice, its head constantly surveying behind in case a mysterious shadow should suddenly dart forth. But such ominous shadows failed to appear.  

Shortly, both sides began to experience an unusual lull in their markets which seemed incongrouos with the stoppage of war. The once bustling markets and bazaars, resources which had previously been allotted to the war efforts, had now become available to its citizens as surplus. 

The explanation for this wealth of peace and absence of fear was the egg had been discovered. 

As rumours of the discovery of the golden egg spread, both factions froze in fear, paralyzed by the notion that the other side may reach the egg first. In a frenzy, they each flooded their own country side, searching through homes, churches, and every building imaginable with such violent fervour; citizens – united - joined the search, thousands holding hands, spanning miles to comb through forests and farmlands, their purposeful heels stomping down corn stocks and greenery. The search, having exhausted their own countries assumed that either the enemy possessed it, held it in secret, or it lay awaiting discovery in each’s land. 

Having only cooled down, the war machine was easily fired up once again. Quickly, Faction printers pressed mistruths and lies, mistruths such as the other side possessed the egg although each government secretly knew that this was not true.  

Left with little choice, both sides began to line the border with forces to support the falsehood. And, from the air, began the first wave as war raged with its foaming teeth, washing ashore on what was, not so very long ago, the quiet beach heads and peaceful archipelogos as aircraft, as if appearing suddenly from the heavens, were greeted by the crackling flak which blotted the sky. Like jellyfish, the white parachutes throbbed across the blue sky. And like a blue table cloth, the sky, as if the flames from a thousand candles touched its underside, darkened to the flak’s flame. Metal snapped as pieces of silver flaked off, and crumbled from the sky, its large flakes zig-zagging down. 

With limited success, both sides swelled just beyond the borders; but the defences proved to be more than adequate as forces ebbed and flowed, flirting with success and failure. With this set back, tanks quickly pressed forward along with armoured carriers like a children’s game of red rover. Divisions would be called across, some would return while others were captured, and if it were not for resources diminishing, the game would have continued impertuity. Factories that once housed armoured personnel transports and tanks were dissembled into automatic pistol factories, and thus doubled the production of arms. But with this surplus, the need for soldiers to tarry such weapons increased causing conscription to be ratified both within the houses of government and in the submissive hearts of men. Soon, left with neither aircraft nor tanks, only men brandishing automatic rifles marked the country sides. As part of the war efforts, resources for the civilians were seized for the war effort. And so the rifles were spent, forcing factories to be stripped once again and engineered to produce obtuse, bludgeoning objects as they could be made both easily and quickly. Soon, even the factories that made uniforms were stripped to supply these crude weapons where armies fought uniformless.  

Schools, churches and government installations lay in ruins. With this absence of installations, there now existed no remnant of their original quarrel. With all remaining soldiers converging a single field, they all thought here must surely rest the golden egg. And as they approached from all sides, growing nearer like a mist, the armies spread all around and fought each and all indiscriminately. Quickly, realizing that all forces bore no distinguishing uniforms, both armies began to interrogate combatants, each trying to decipher to which side the combatant belonged. They interviewed with questions designed to separate the indigenous to the foreigner. They carelessly answered that their differences were religion, but with no Temple, Church, Mosque, nor Synagogue remaining, this could not be the difference as war still raged. So they answered government, and that they had enslaved their own people and so how the war would return inalienable rights to the other party but with no government remaining this answer did not reveal their identity. Soon they realized, no proof remained to which side they belonged, neither to the interrogator nor to himself; and in this manner, imprisonments flourished throughout. This confusion constantly caused battalions to break into two groups no matter their numbers as suspicions abounded that they roamed with their enemy, harming their own. At last there remained only two generals, one holding a crude sling shot and the other a rock. Fearful of providing ammunition to the sling, the rock was never thrown, so he reached down, ripped his trousers to detach the metal brace from his knee that provided stable standing and repeatedly struck the other with the rattling metal. Rolling around in the dirt, avoiding the attacks, he clutched balls of dirt in his hands, thinking his hate would forge the mass of soil into a sterner object, worthy of his venom; but this never happened, instead he chose to throw the dirt in his eyes. He kicked out the remaining leg so he too fell. The injuries proved too much to his health, he succumbed to his injuries as he was unable to stand. He cupped the solid ground, searching for the egg in a delirium but it could not be found. Peering towards the grey sky, the mounds of bricks where towering apartments and schools once stood filled the landscape. Alone, he understanding even if he found the egg, it was quite possible that he was the last man alive as no evidence of life stirred. He turned over in the dust, surveying the corpses that lay among him not knowing to which side they belonged.  

In a ship-less sea, two forlorn lovers floated adrift, their emaciated skin holding a golden circle, as they embraced each other knowing their last breath may soon be puffed out of them as well.