by Nyla Singleton
This little egg, oh, how I wish it were mine. This coop I’ve learned to call home is nothing short of lively. Mother hens stake their claim, flaunting their perfectly born chicks. The cluck of their excitement, the erratic flap of their wings, the unbearable sparkle in their beady eyes—I feel nothing short of resentment. As a chick, the Old Farmer went insane; countless amounts of money were wasted on soil, causing crops to die by nightfall. This, paired with the departure of Lady Farmer, made our neglect inevitable. I could not lay an egg—nay, as a hen, I found myself without purpose. I stood outside the coop, cracked corn that’s usually phenomenal now bitter with self-hatred. I deserve an egg of my own, or so I thought. Countless days turned into nights, sun into moon, and yet, I was always left to ponder: “Why, out of all the hens, am I without egg?”
However, unbeknownst to me, my lifelong dream was no more. My once unimaginable dream was now a reality, flourishing right before my eyes—reachable and within my grasp.
An egg, left without a mother.
How could this be?
Knowing this was unmistakably my calling, I sat upon the egg. Suddenly, those days couldn’t seem shorter. I longed for the sunlight, saddened by the moon. With each moon to rise, I knew this egg was closer to breaking.
When the egg finally cracked, it was not despair I was met with, but an all-consuming relief. This chick, so tiny and loud, relied upon me to become Mother Hen. Without a doubt in my mind, I took on the responsibility. I raised this chick until it could walk on its own—until the cracked corn was no longer difficult to swallow. With my wings extra glossy and my cluck obnoxiously loud, I strutted into the coop of Mother Hens. I basked in their gawking and took pride in their astonishment. As I took my seat amongst the elder hens, all I could think to myself was:
“This little chick of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.”
Nyla Singleton is a 19-year-old creative writer who resides in South Carolina. Growing up, she lost herself in fictional media—it didn’t take long for her to realize her true calling. Overindulging in fanfiction, she spent countless hours writing, hoping to one day publish a novel of her own.