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Der Traum vom Ei
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
The wolf huffed indignantly at his master, who sat and faced the fellow’s ire placidly.
“You,” the wolf growled when he finally found his voice. “You lured me in,” and he crested, “snared me . . . added me to your harem . . . ensured we couldn’t escape . . . “
The master, a nondescript canine, raised an eyebrow, but did nothing to interrupt the wolf’s angry indictment.
“You, you . . . impregnated me,” the wolf now snarled, stressing the word until it became a slur or a curse. “Filled me – and the rest of the harem – with eggs.” He shuddered at the memory before he rallied and raised a fist. Shaking it at the master he said, “But I’ve learned your secret.”
The canine, the master, flicked an ear. “And what is that?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. He didn’t want to get into a fight with the angry wolf.
“The eggs you gave us – the eggs we’ve laid – are all sterile.” The canine acknowledged this with a nod, and the wolf said with his teeth bared, “and I discovered that we could all leave if we wished.”
“Of course you could,” the canine said equably. “Any time you liked. I never held any of you against your will, or kept you from leaving.”
The wolf sputtered. “What?!”
The canine shook his head. “You all thought that, and believed it . . . “
***
The Reader finished recounting his dream, and the Writer spent a moment in thought. “I wanted you to hear this, since you’re in it,” the Reader said.
The Writer nodded. “Would you like an interpretation? At least, my take on it?”
“Sure.”
The Writer thought for a few more moments, paws shaping the empty air as if molding what he was about to say. “Any writer crafts a story that attracts readers, exposes them to the story, impregnates – if you will pardon me – them with the ideas and concepts that are in the story. The readers are free to leave any time they like.”
“And the eggs?” the Reader asked.
The Writer smiled. “Ideas, concepts – those are the eggs. They’re sterile as they are, inert and incapable of any action until or unless they’re taken up by someone.” The last word ended with a slight rising inflection, as if the Writer was asking a question of the Reader, who considered what was said.
“I think I see what you’re saying,” the Reader finally said.
end
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
The wolf huffed indignantly at his master, who sat and faced the fellow’s ire placidly.
“You,” the wolf growled when he finally found his voice. “You lured me in,” and he crested, “snared me . . . added me to your harem . . . ensured we couldn’t escape . . . “
The master, a nondescript canine, raised an eyebrow, but did nothing to interrupt the wolf’s angry indictment.
“You, you . . . impregnated me,” the wolf now snarled, stressing the word until it became a slur or a curse. “Filled me – and the rest of the harem – with eggs.” He shuddered at the memory before he rallied and raised a fist. Shaking it at the master he said, “But I’ve learned your secret.”
The canine, the master, flicked an ear. “And what is that?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. He didn’t want to get into a fight with the angry wolf.
“The eggs you gave us – the eggs we’ve laid – are all sterile.” The canine acknowledged this with a nod, and the wolf said with his teeth bared, “and I discovered that we could all leave if we wished.”
“Of course you could,” the canine said equably. “Any time you liked. I never held any of you against your will, or kept you from leaving.”
The wolf sputtered. “What?!”
The canine shook his head. “You all thought that, and believed it . . . “
***
The Reader finished recounting his dream, and the Writer spent a moment in thought. “I wanted you to hear this, since you’re in it,” the Reader said.
The Writer nodded. “Would you like an interpretation? At least, my take on it?”
“Sure.”
The Writer thought for a few more moments, paws shaping the empty air as if molding what he was about to say. “Any writer crafts a story that attracts readers, exposes them to the story, impregnates – if you will pardon me – them with the ideas and concepts that are in the story. The readers are free to leave any time they like.”
“And the eggs?” the Reader asked.
The Writer smiled. “Ideas, concepts – those are the eggs. They’re sterile as they are, inert and incapable of any action until or unless they’re taken up by someone.” The last word ended with a slight rising inflection, as if the Writer was asking a question of the Reader, who considered what was said.
“I think I see what you’re saying,” the Reader finally said.
end
Category Story / Abstract
Species Canine (Other)
Size 1280 x 957px
File Size 543.4 kB
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