Rat in the cottageA Story by ZichStory written based on 'Frog in the well' concept.Howls of sadness drowned the windows pitiful yelps thereafter. Every strand of fur erected on Rat’s fur. For a moment, he thought some ghastly figure was paying this rundown cottage a visit. Realising it was just the wind, he calmed a little while trying to catch any hints of Winds passing by. As he listened, he found the cries carried by the breeze were none other than Winds. “Winds!” He yelled, letting food slide of his paws. “What happened? Where are you?” Rat’s legs stiffened tensely as blood throbbed fearfully through them. Thrusting his muzzle out of a jagged opening, he drew in deep breaths to catch any hints of danger. Even though the house cat disappeared for weeks, it wouldn’t hurt to be any more cautious than this. Dropping into a crouching stance, his eyes settled on the table leg a distance away. Dinner in his mind; dinner he shall have.
As day fell into the freezing night, a cold ache crept up Rat’s limbs, forcing him awake; another day yet the same routine. Jaded he was but reality spared no mercy to his empty stomach. Repeating the same sequence he returned to the fields of stunk. Again scrutinizing every possible food – or look a likes – he found a pleasing fragrant amidst the provoking reek.
“Oh!” He exclaimed ruefully, “What a fool I had been to let such beauty of nature fail my sights! Why have I not taken notice earlier?”
Dozens of rat lengths away stood a battalion of towering yellow beads no shorter than the green stalks supporting them. Scratching his head in bewilderment, he searched his memory for a name. ‘Corn’ then hit him in enlightenment. The yellow beads were corn and the towers, he assumed, was their bone. Seeing corn in its most natural form drove his desires wild.
“As old as any dragons ever existed.”
Thus began his new nights of fun on the other side. Every night he would venture across the bridge occasionally dropping a friendly greeting to the every busy Moon. At times she’d respond to Rat and share stories of the world below her. Most of the times however, he’d end up sitting beside Sheep with corn in paws listening to tales of blood sucking monsters that resembled humans.
Dusk once again descended to a chilling darkness, sending freezing spikes through Rat’s pelt. His body convulsed violently, forcing the spikes to withdraw at the hint of warmth. Night once again graced Rat with her cold body, threatening to bestow a freezing death should he fail to feed tonight. Poverty had never cut him any slack, let alone welcoming joy. Despite all, not once had he envied animals enslaved by humans. Good life they had, dignity they lost.
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Windows hurled themselves out of the house and came crashing in as armies of water droplets doused the dry cottage. Puddles settled in every depression they could find. Droplets couldn’t fill into any holes slowly found their way into Rat’s nest seeking refuge; the freeze hammered hard into his aching bones. Panic stricken from the impending freeze, Rat pressed hard against wall as the puddle marched in oppressively.
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