Content.

Content.

Content.

The egg was content until it wasn't anymore. Because one day, a threat came creeping up by the tube it was fed from - slow, languid. First it appeared as a cry coming from the edge of the world, a soundless wave that stirred its instincts up. It happened once, the egg forgot. It happened twice, the egg forgot. It fell asleep before the third cry could frighten it. And when it woke up, it wasn't just a cry ringing occasionally from the outside of its shell; it was a boundless silence. Nothing was breathing next to it anymore; it used to have neighbors. It used to feel them in the dark, beyond what it could reach, still as a stone in those black seas.

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But now, there was no one.

And nothing would come down the tube to feed it anymore. It waited, because that's all it knew to do. But time passed, and nothing changed. It was slowly starving, and fear started to make it restless. How can a being barely alive not recognize death ? In the dark, it tried to reach out.

It cried a bit, trying to grab the attention of the one that used to feed it.

But only death answered.

When the egg cried louder, death started to talk to it.

But the egg only knew how to fear it, and soon it was too late. As it weakened, the egg felt its consciousness slip into slumber. Its last dream was empty, as it knew nothing except to eat and to fear.