Staves Rest - A Life, In My Hands

Content Warning: Ableism, Discrimination, Mentions of Culling

James looked over the black-shelled egg. The tiny, yet hardy egg that refused to die. Despite the fact that he found it, despite the fact that others saw it. The egg persists. He places it on the ground, waiting for the egg to hatch. The moonrots float, don’t they? This one should do the same. As the egg cracks. The creature pokes its head out, slowly yanking itself out and flapping its moth-like wings. Under most circumstances, James would throw away the moonrot, but he was feeling something else… Was it… Pity? He hated that emotion. The mewling thing was black in color, with bright cyan and teal markings. A glowing halo was over its head and its eyes were a shocking yellow. James knew why the egg was left behind. It was clearly deformed. At Luna’s Descent, it would have been culled, but Staves Rest accepted any creature. He heard that they had six legs, but this one only had four, with its front left leg being a stump. It didn’t have any tentacles poking out of its mantle and most notably, holes ripped across its mouth, revealing a pink tongue. It was melanistic. The dark colors made it clear. How sad.

He didn’t know if it was male or female. He had never seen one of these things unless Quacksalver counted. Quacksalver had eyes on his face, no tentacles, and stood on two legs. But then again, if this thing counted as a moonrot, then Quacksalver probably would too. Would Staves Rests’ caretaker accept it? There were some whose legs didn’t work, some without arms, some without legs, some with too many heads, and some without eyes. But he… Couldn’t let go of the child. No, his child. But it wasn’t his! He was too young to have a child and all of the children were the caretaker’s. But he had to keep it. Why!?

It didn’t seem to be hurting, at all. Or at least, not hurting right now. He’ll need to name it something. Names have power.

“Futurism.” He calls the child. It looked like the future.

He knows that despite everything, it will survive.

Word Count: 359

5/891 Beans

Bean Tracker

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James and Futurism are owned by me.

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