|By Shawn Conlin|
Gerald was a simple man, born in the outter rings and raised by a farmer. He would often lay on the hay cart, looking up at the thick clouds that constantly covered the sky, and wonder what lay beyond. His mind would wander across myth and legend, across rumors of people who had broken through that dark barrier, and the impossibility of what they may have seen.
He sighed, got up, and brushed the hay off his breeches and scruffy brown hair. The first signs of the evening storm crashed across the sky; the rain was coming, a rain that would be enough to maintain the fertility of the farm, just enough to allow the sun through those clouds, but not enough to dissipate them enough to see the night sky.
In the morning, he wouldn't see the sun rise as more than a hazy, orange sphere through a thick woolen blanket as he worked the fields. He walked toward the house.feeling the dirt beneathe the leather soles of his shoes, occasionally scuffing it with his toe. When he got inside, he withed his parents goodnight, climbing onto the straw mattress that served as a bed and falling asleep.
He woke to the sound of yelling. He hadn't undressed the previous night, so he rushed outside to see what was wrong.
Something had burst through the clouds, giving the people a brief climps of black shapes high above, and for the first time an obscured view of the sun. It was brilliant, leaving a single rain of light to fall upon the fields, quickly fading.
Still more amazing was what it left behind. There was a small crater, about 5 feet wide; and in it sat an egg.
344 words, about 5 minutes, and yes, there will be more.