Was It Real?

Peter looked at the egg. It was off-white and instead of speckles like most eggs, it had swirls, swirls of red, and it reminded him of a tie-dyed t-shirt, but not as gaudy. It might have been the same size as his head and it probably weighed the same amount.

He looked back at the old man. He didn't really look like a wizard, except for the bushy eyebrows and beard, but what would one expect in a neighborhood outside New York City. Grey robes and a big tall hat? Well, maybe. There are a lot of strange people in New York.

"Why are you giving this to me?" Peter asked.

"It's a gift," said the old man.

"But I have no idea who you are? Why would you give me a dragon's egg?"

"Because you wanted one." The old man's eyebrows squished low and obscured his eyes as he assumed a look of puzzlement. Peter could almost read his thoughts, "What a silly question."

It was true. Peter did want a dragon, but how could this old man possibly know? He continued to look at the old man and couldn't help but wonder, did he meet him before? He had no recollection.

"How big will it be?" Peter asked.

"Well, it's not going to get that big. It'll fit in your mother's apartment without a problem, but you'll have to keep it a secret obviously." The old man stood up straight. "Dragon's prefer to keep to themselves, and they're pretty lithe. It'll have no problem moving around the apartment without making a mess and getting in the way. It'll be pretty self-sufficient."

Peter had so many questions he still wanted to ask. "How long until it hatches?"

"Oh, it's fresh. It's only about a day old, so you'll have to be patient. I'd say a full six weeks."

"Six weeks?" Peter looked back at the egg. How was he going to keep it hidden from his mother for six weeks? What would he say when she asked him where he got it. How could he tell her it's a dragon's egg? She'd think he's crazy. "You've been reading too many of those magic books," she'll say again. "Besides, you can't remember to feed the dog, what makes you think you'll remember to feed a dragon?"

The old man turned and started to walk away.

"Wait a minute," Peter said hurriedly. "Where are you going?"

"Well," the old man said without completely turning around. "I have business I need to take care of, and it's none of yours."

"But, why don't you want the egg?"

"Me? I have no use for a dragon." He started to walk away again.

Peter's mind raced. "Do I?" he thought. "Have a use? Will I remember to feed it? What do I feed it? Do I have to feed it? The old man said it would be self-sufficient." He continued to watch the old man walk away as the questions kept rolling through his mind, and he struggle to figure out which one was the most important to actually open his mouth to ask. No question emerged as the old man disappeared around the corner.

Peter looked back at the egg he held between both hands as the questions swirled through his mind, and then back along the empty street.

Suddenly he wished he had something to put it in. He would have to carry it as is all the way home, and everyone he came across would see it and wonder about the egg. Anyone he knew might stop and ask him questions. What would he say? He couldn't tell anyone it was a dragon egg. They'd think he was crazy. Was this real?

He started to walk. What would he tell people? How could he tell people he got it from a wizard in an alley. Maybe he was crazy. Although he did have the egg. "Six weeks," he thought. "Then I'll know."

Peter had only gone about five steps when he tripped over a crack in the cement, fell forward, and landed on his hands and knees. He was staring at the bright yellow yolk slowing leaking out of the broken shell. He was in shock. He would never know the answer to the question, "Was it real?"