The Gold One(Jared Shipley) It was an annual event, the Easter egg hunt, but it was the little boy’s first. He had heard that hidden somewhere among the field of plastic eggs filled with Hershey’s Kisses and M&Ms was a special egg. A golden egg. And whoever found the golden egg was awarded the grand prize, a basket of candy and toys. But it wasn’t the prize the little boy wanted. It was the egg. He wanted the egg that he and he alone could possess.

He arrived at the park with his mother and older sister. She was an Easter egg hunt veteran at nine years old. This was her fourth hunt. She had been bragging the whole morning about being the one who would find the most eggs.

The little boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of the field, strewn with pastel ovals that stretched as far as he could see. At the far end of the field was a tree line leading into the forest. That must be where the golden egg is, the little boy thought. It couldn’t possibly be among the many obvious eggs lying about the grass in plain sight. It must be hidden, in a place where no one would think to look. Except him, of course. They underestimated him.

He and his older sister were given plastic grocery bags from their mother to collect the eggs in. The hunt was about to start. A man with a yellow shirt wearing fake rabbit ears shouted into a megaphone for all the participants in the hunt to take their places at the starting line. A long pink ribbon stretched across the width of the field. There must have been about a hundred children that lined up, squeezed tightly next to each other, squirming to get as close to the line as possible for a head start, but the little boy was calm. They would all be wasting their time picking up the obvious eggs, with no ambition other than to collect the most for themselves. But not the boy. He was going to find that golden egg.

The man on the megaphone yelled “Ready…Set…” then let out the long HOOOOONNNNNKKKK!!!! from a bullhorn. The children rushed the pink ribbon, tore through it and began scooping up every pink and yellow and green egg their eyes could see. There were shouts and giggles permeating the little boy’s ears, but he hadn’t noticed. His grocery bag was clutched in his hands tight. It was still empty and the air caught the inside like a parachute, but that didn’t slow the little boy down as he sprinted to the tree line.

He almost tripped when he arrived, but caught himself and held his balance by clutching the old wrinkled bark of a tree. The grass was gone and now the ground was covered in sticks and broken branches. It had rained the night before and the pungent smell of dry mud was still strong. The little boy didn’t see any eggs in here. He looked at his empty plastic bag and for a moment had the urge to go back, to scoop up every pink and yellow and green egg his eyes could see just like the rest of them. But no, he thought. The golden egg is in here. He had a vision of racing back across the field to the starting point, where his mother and older sister would be waiting for him, the golden egg held high in his hand above his head. The other children would clap and cheer his achievement, and his mother would greet him with a big hug and hold him up high and proud.

So far he hadn’t seen it. It wasn’t lying behind a tree, or buried in any of the dirt mounds, or underneath a pile of sticks. It was nowhere on the ground. The boy became discouraged, but then realized: If it isn’t on the ground, it must be in the trees. Of course! The trees were filled with crooked branches and leaves; the perfect hiding place for a small gold egg. Perhaps they hid it inside a bird’s nest to disguise it.

The boy started to climb a tree with low branches. He scraped his elbow on the rough bark, but it didn’t phase him. The sting of the scratch made him wince, but he had forgotten about it soon after, when he reached a thick branch and sat on it. He examined the trunk, looking for notches that may house a golden egg, but saw nothing. He shimmied across the branch looking for bird’s nests, but saw nothing. He shimmied back to the trunk and stood up on the branch, held onto the trunk for balance and began to jump, shaking the branch with the hopes of making a golden egg fall from its leaves…but saw nothing.

What he did see were the other children scattered across the field, faint sounds of laughter hitting his ears. The bullhorn honked again, signaling that the hunt was over and it was time for the children to return to their parents. The little boy looked at his grocery bag, still empty.

His sister would be with his mother by now, and they would be wondering where he was. They would look among the other children walking across the field, but couldn’t see him. His mother would begin to worry, she would call his name again and again and where would he be? Still searching for a golden egg. No, he decided. He must go back. The golden egg would remain hidden forever.

The boy climbed back down and emerged from behind the tree line into the field, the last one out there. He was suddenly consumed by an overwhelming embarrassment. All the other children, and all of their parents, could see him, trudging back across the field with an empty grocery bag, not having picked up a single Easter egg.

By the time the boy got back to his mother, he was crying. His mother picked him up and hugged him. She thought he was crying because of the scrape on his elbow, which now was very red, but the boy said in a trembling voice, “I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find the gold one.”

He calmed down in the car on the way home. The dried tears made his cheeks itch. His mother made his sister share her bag of plastic eggs, which she had filled almost to the top, but the boy didn’t want any of her eggs. He wanted the gold one. He closed his eyes and saw the golden egg in his mind, wondering if his mind was the only place it would ever exist.

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