There was a savage screech upon the wind that cut across the rolling valleys, bounced over brooks and meandered through the pale green grass.1
The white hair of the little mouse stood on end as if it was trying to mimic the long blades of the pasture that it was crouching within. 'Alas', it thought, 'I am no chameleon'. It moved to briefly consider the possibility of running, skimming its tiny feet across the dry dirt as fast as possible so it could vanish into a bushy hedge or under a rock. It realised the futility of fleeing. It was just a little mouse, and it would not be fast enough to outrun the terror that hunted it.2
Pink cone-like ears twitched and the mouse glanced up towards the bright heavens with beady black eyes. It could see the ominous dark mass circling far above with wings that were crooked and sharp at the tips as if they could slice through the very air that they floated upon. How long the little mouse had left to live, it did not know. Trembling, it rolled up into a tight ball, skirted by its long coiling tail. 3
The mouse only had a tiny mind, it was not able to fully understand the complexities of life, but at that moment it considered the end. It pondered its short existence as if it was laid out across the field for it to see. The little rodent had led a normal life; it had grown, fed, bred and trotted across these fields in search of new frontiers. It had worked hard to feed litters of hungry mouths. Surely, a mouse of great dedication to life should not have to meet such a gruesome end?4
There was another screech from above, louder and more brutal this time. It resonated through the mouse’s tiny bones.5
So then, the little rodent reasoned, perhaps it was not placed upon this green earth to breed. Perhaps there was another motive for its existence that lurked beneath the surface of its normal life, paling away whenever the little mouse became close to spotting it. It caught another glimpse of the circling fiend above that was moments away from tearing towards the ground. Even if there were other motives that intertwined with its short life, it though, it still did not explain why it deserved to be torn apart in such a bloody way. Why could it not pass away peacefully like all of the other little mice?6
A gentle breeze composed its own orchestra of the rustling of leaves and the rippling of grass. The chill caused the rodent to shudder, but it did not care. At least it was still able to feel something.7
Its mind mused upon the concept of fairness. It had always thought of life as fair – if it was to live in a good way, reproduce and do no evil then it deserved a peaceful demise. Now it realised that there was no great balance that equalised good and evil. Perhaps life was governed by chance after all, and this little mouse had been lumped with the nastier end of fortune. So, if there were no motives or reasons for life (or at least none that the tiny mind could consider) and no fairness to squeak of, why was the quaking little rodent allowed to explore the fields in its long months of life?8
There was another wail from the carnivorous beast of prey. It thrived on the horror it created, enjoying each moment that it could see the little mouse frozen in terror, unable to look up at the talons that were about to crush its ribs in a powerful grip.9
The tiny rodent longed to be carefree again, dancing on minute legs across fruitful fields and over sun-kissed rock. It realised that the fear it was facing at that moment was only worsened by its incessant pondering about the nature of life. It knew that its tiny mind could not negotiate the complexities of its existence, but it questioned them anyway. More than anything, the little mouse wanted to be happy again, free of the plagues of wonder.10
That was when, unexpectedly, it understood the true meaning of its little life. The tiny mouse had lived a happy existence, and it was glad of it. The rodent uncurled itself and prepared for the last few seconds. It did not want to die, but it was ready to meet its end.11
There was stillness in the air. With its beady eyes shut so tightly, the little mouse could do nothing but listen to the gentle breeze brush through the grass and play with the leaves on the trees. Minutes passed, and slowly, the rodent opened its eyes.12
There was no beast overhead, just a gleaming golden sun that shone down upon the rippling meadows beneath it. If the little mouse had possessed the ability to smile, it would have done. 13
Sometimes true enlightenment required the bravery to look into the darkness.14
Author notes
DRAFT 2. This is probably riddled with mistakes and typos as I was fairly drunk when I wrote most of it. As you can tell, I was in a very reflective mood...
Option 4...
A contest entry
- Tales from the Darkside by xBitterxSweetx.
175 points, ended March 7, 2008, 36 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Things to Think about by StarIlluminated.
600 points, ended March 1, 2008, 11 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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Huh. This story really made me think. I love how you told this from a mouse's point of view, an animal that is usually free from the complexities of life. This story has a wonderful tone to it, and I love how you have two things going on at once - the mouse's thoughts and the hawk's stalking. Good luck, thanks for entering, and keep writing!
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What a moral! Very well done.
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Wow, amazing story. Sooo much description and intelligent thoughts. I love it!
Good luck in the contest!
Illuminated *KT*
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Hm. This reminds me very much of a story I once read as a child, though the title of that story eludes me. It involves a mouse and his family and an owl that kept them "herded" and a barn... and other things, I can't remember for the life of me. Hm.
Anyway, it's very good and nicely written. Great job, even if you were drunk. -
My, what a happy ending for the poor mouse. This is a brilliant way for the reader to reflect upon themselves and think about their own life. Indeed, life is short and we must enjoy what we can because we never know when we must face our own demise. Thank you for entering and Great Job!
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You created such an emotional piece; I empathized with this creature, which except perhaps in cartoons, is considered a pest.
I’ll have to try writing in that condition.
An excellent piece of work filled with so much detail the reader can feel part of the little mouse’s existence.
You created such an emotional piece; I empathized with this creature, which except perhaps in cartoons, is considered a pest.
The plot flowed along nicely, both the prey and predator were visible and the fear is felt just as the joy when the little creature is spared. We don’t know why? But I guess that is unimportant.
Geri
I was going to call your attention to these *smile* but it realised (realized unless you’re British.) Now it realised that there was no great balance that equalised good and evil. But (okay, I’ll leave them sss alone in deference to the Queen or the Canadian flag) *smile*
If the little mouse had possessed the ability to smile, it would have done. 13 (smile, this it would have done. Or it would have done so.)
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, characters: 5.
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Thank you! Ah yes, the whole 'z' and 's' argument. I will assert my right to keep my sss sounds until the day I die! I did not tell the reader why the mouse was spared deliberately as I wanted to keep some mystery present and force people to think. I also think it would have detracted from the story and destroyed the unthinking, unemotional and uncaring predator's identity.
Thank you for commenting, I am glad you enjoyed it!
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I often do the same thing. I write when having a glass of wine or two or three *hiccup* and then polish it up later. I have to squint sometimes to even read what I wrote (I do everything on paper first). Hahaha very good. I don't have any sugestions just praise. The description was splendid and the scene was painted clearly.
Brooke
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You write this up when you were drunk? Doesn't really seem like it but of course not everyone is the same so not everyone that gets drunk can only manage to think of scribble stories and nonsense.
Good job on it though.
Oh, I noticed in pararaph 2 you had the mouse think a sentence or what not. I suggest putting that in "" or italize it for it help not to confuse the reader. -
You were drunk? If I had to guess, I would've said that you were sober. You should really send it to some short story publisher, because it's brilliant. Well written thoughts about destiny and exeptance of death through the eyes of a rodent. Maybe I should get drunk more often...
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Thank you! It wasn't written in its complete form while I was 'drink writing', just its bare form which I later polished up. I'm not sure it's good enough for publishing, but it was good to get some of my thoughts down on paper.
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If you can write like this when drunk your work when you're sober must be truly amazing. Because this was awesome
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Haha, thank you!
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