Probe

It was odd, and curious, and nonetheless I found it appealing to hold and touch. The egg glowed with a pleasant deep turquoise, and presented the smooth resilience of layered minerals. I remember distinctly placing it on my dresser in the middle of a small ceramic plate, and then preparing for work.

And so it came that I experienced the disquieting familiarity mentioned earlier when I returned from work. Just before arriving home that evening, I remembered the egg and went to find it in my bedroom. It was not on the plate.

Upon some brief reflection, I became very slightly afraid. After all, I am a bachelor, and have no pets or a maid. No one should have been inside my apartment during the day. The egg was far too heavy to be moved by any superfluous fluff of air. What explanation, then? I could find none.

Imagine my surprise when opening the refrigerator door for dinner to find the orb standing cleanly on top of a plate of sliced ham.

There was no history to suggest that I was capable of such a terrific oversight. After all, I had initially been curious as to whether it was still alive, and would surely not have put it in the cooler. Unless it had been a subliminal breakfast urge--egg--but no, I had skipped breakfast yesterday.

It had un-nerved me. I took the egg from the ham--it was still warm!--and purposely strode back into the bedroom and placed it on the dresser again, where it thankfully remained, on its side this time, all evening.

Until later.

Oh no, I have no hesitation sharing with you the horror which choked my breath and erupted goosebumps over my back and arms when I awoke suddenly in the black of the night to see, by the dim street lights shining through the window, the vile egg rolling across the floor, evenly and oblong-wise, on its own abominable power.

It was not coming at me exactly. It seemed to be moving toward the window. I jumped out of bed on the opposite side and turned on the lights, looking frantically around the room for some...other explanation.

But there was only the egg, and it had stopped with the light, standing again almost exactly where I had found it the previous morning.

I must have stood trembling in the corner of my room for an hour or more, watching the egg with one eye from only a small angle of gaze cut off by the bed.

What would you have done? Can you appreciate the terror of such a sight? I saw it moving.

I began to ache and be tired. Finally convinced it would not move with my own motion, I approached it slowly and sat down on the bed, waiting for the next deception.

The animation of an inanimate object implies the will of a mover, which led me to wonder wherein lay the egg’s purpose. Could the egg be watching me?

I could not sleep. I could not bring myself to touch it again, even as it stood taunting me.

I imagined ridiculous scenarios; calling the authorities to report a moving egg; attacking it with a hammer. Dawn was coming soon as I lay down uneasily. I could still get a nap and save some function for work, so I forced myself to turn off the light and close my eyes.