text: Wrote this short story, wanting some critique and thoughts. &#x200B; Kyle is a mouse. Small, easy to miss, insignificant. All mice look alike, it’s only when they’re in a spot they’re not supposed to be, is when there’s an uproar. Swatted, stomped, shot, screamed at, very unpleasant events occur when mice aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Kyle had just got done with his chores, taking what little nuts and berries he could find, placing them in a small pile where they kept the food. He sighed knowing it will be empty before the sun sets. He glanced out the hole, seeing the wide, vast, empty landscape. Often he wondered if the haven his father raved about was just beyond the forest. That’s when he noticed his three friends huddled in discussion. “What’re you guys talking about?” Kyle inquired. “We got a plan to get more cheese!” squealed Piggy, the fattest yet smallest of the bunch. His tail was the shortest of them all, and in a rather unfortunate screwdriver accident, it was twirled like a spring. “But it requires us working with the rats,” Arnold, the smartest of the group, explained. “Why would the rats need our help?” Kyle asked, confused now. “They want the ‘good stuff’ in the cabinets,” answered Charlie. A clear displeased expression populated her face. No one was happy to work with the rats, you can never trust them. Always an angle with them. “Yeah, the stuff that’s also in the most dangerous area, the humans or the guard animals would spot us a mile away,” Arnold explained, “which is why they want us to draw them all away from the kitchen, long enough for them to grab what they need.” “They said it would only take a minute or two at most,” interjected a desperate Piggy, “Plus it will be at night, when they’re asleep! Plus they had some stuff to keep the cat out of the picture!” “It’s too dangerous Piggy,” Charlie concluded, “It could cost us our lives, and for what? Cheese? We have plenty of food here.” “No we don’t, we barely have enough for the burrow!”“That’s cause you eat for three mice,” Arnold snided.“We should have more than what we get! Why are they so adamant about not sharing it? They have plenty! It comes so easy to them!” Piggy’s face got red with frustration and disappointment. “It’s not worth our lives Piggy,” Charlie explained trying to coax the young one. “...Are we even living?” Pondered Kyle.The three looked at him. Charlie’s expression perplexed, Piggy glad someone sided with him, and Arnold concerned where he was going with this. “We get nothing but scraps from the pigs. Everyday we’re out there busting our humps just to have one meal, maybe. Meanwhile, they have enough food for us to move out of the burrow! If we had all that food, and cheese, we could make a pilgrimage to the Haven!” “Not this again Kyle,” sighed Arnold, “The Haven is nothing but nonsense the elders raved on for you to sleep peacefully.” “All of them were crazy? Your dad spoke of it too! How everyone has a hole of their own, eating like kings for every meal. Not having to worry about snakes, owls, cats, or humans. We all have it great!” “If it exists why did they run from it?” Charlie asked simply, crossing her arms. “They never got to it because they had children here,” Kyle explained, “Children that sometimes get eaten by our own for survival.” Piggy squealed in fear, remembering such tragedies, hiding behind Charlie. “Winter is soon you guys, if we don’t get food, the burrow is going to look like a blood bath,” Kyle concluded, “I say we risk it. For us and the burrow.” Charlie and Arnold looked at each other, hoping one of them would have a good argument against it. But it never came. “...alright, we’ll do it,” Arnold concluded, defeated by Kyle’s logic.The four got ready and rendezvous outside the farmer’s house as the sun set. In the distance, three large shadows approached them. The first of the rats, Iggy, stood out amongst them. His crooked mouth, eyes working independently of each other, and the shortest of the three. Next was Ziggy, tallest of the three, paying more attention to her nails than where she was walking. She looks at their leader, Scar. No one knows if he was born with that name or if he gave it to himself, either way one large scar ran down his left eye. Some say it was from a cat, others a snake, but whenever asked if it hurt, he always said that they should have seen the other one. “Alright, let’s talk business,” he began. His eye wandered to Iggy first, “You put the cat nip out?” “Yeh yeh yeh yeh,” Iggy furiously nodded, a wide green pleased with himself, “Right by its food, just like you said boss, just like you said!” “God stop repeating yourself,” Ziggy complained, annoyed at the ravings of the lunatic. “Sorry,” Iggy frowned, shutting his mouth. “Alright, so you mice need to split up and get to different parts of the house, and cause the biggest racket you can. Two minutes is all the mischief needs to get the food out. Think you can handle that?” Scar asked the four. “As long as you keep your end of the bargain, you can count on us,” Kyle concluded, determined to come out of this on top with his friends. “Let’s get to it,” Scar said simply. And with that, the parted ways and made their infiltration into the house. The house was of simple structure. One big kitchen, with one door leading outside to the back, and an arch that led into the living room. In the living room were the restroom and a set of stairs leading to the bedrooms. Inside the living room was an old television, standing on a sturdy short table, hanging so low only a mouse or cats toys could get lost under. A tall pole lamp stood next to the couch, barely balanced on its own. Kyle reached his spot first. Up near the ceiling rested a long series of shelves, housing decorative plates that the wife treasured as much as her marriage. Kyle knew this would be perfect. Charlie was next. Up on the counter laid some kitchenware. Most notable, a large cutting knife most likely used for separating meat. The smaller ones would make quite the ruckus, but the knife she knew to save for later. Piggy and Arnold both had the brilliant idea to climb up the lamp. A few swings would surely bring it crashing down. Piggy however was unsure of these actions. He looked to his elder and spoke, “Do you think the Haven exists?” Arnold had to stop and think for a moment, “Honestly Piggy, I don’t know. They say that if you do right, and work hard enough you can get there. But I have yet to meet someone who had truly come from such a place.”Piggy was silent the rest of the climb up, knowing that was the best answer Arnold could give him. As the clock struck 10, Heath, the guard dog, started his patrol of the house. While it was a small house, it was his, so he made sure to protect it. If he failed, he could never face the master again. He peeks out the little cat door where Mittens usually enters, only to see the cat on quite the trip. “Just what are you doing?” Heath interrogated. “I see all the stars, they are so wonderful Heath,” giggled the fat cat, “I hope the masters let us touch them soon.” “Quite being silly and get in here! You’ll get hurt tripping out there! Plenty of opportunists come at night.” “Oh fine, oh fine,” yawned Mittens as he slowly squeezed his way into the house, passing out as soon as he got his tail inside. Heath shook his head and continued his patrol. Kyle saw him enter the kitchen, sniffing for trouble. This dog may be sharp, but his nose was worthless in his old age. Kyle grinned and went to the furthest end of the plates, and whoosh. It fell in a flash, and made such a loud crash. Heath jumped and let out a loud bark. “Who goes there?!” Bellowed the old dog. Kyle snickered and began the tirade of pushing the plates down, one by one a crash could be heard. The old dog tucked his tail back, backing up and barking until his hind legs were all but pressed into the counter. Charlie saw this opportunity and pushed the knife down. SHHK!Heath cried out in agony, as the knife had slid into his leg. Blood spewed out all over the floor, he howled and squealed for help. “MASTER! MASTER HELP ME!” The old dog begged. A booming downstairs could be heard, the two farmers saw in horror the scene before them. Charlie quickly tried to hide, but the wife was too fast and grasps her by the tail. “Damn mice!” the wife screamed, “In my house!? How dare they!” She carried the squealing mouse toward the sink. Kyle screamed at them, trying to get them to let go. The wife was too disgusted to think. A switch was flipped and she dropped charlie into the garbage disposal. A loud shredding occurs, blood and gust splattering around. The wife puts the lid over it to contain the scene so it not get all over the sink. Kyle’s eyes were filled with distraught at the cruelty of the humans. Just being here and causing a racket warranted that kind of response from them. Was it because they were mice, or because the humans were just that cruel to those they think less of? The husband was more pissed at the dog getting stabbed. He yanked the knife out, but the damage was done. The leg was limp and useless. He sighs as Heath only whimpered in shame. He looks at the cat, pissed that it slept on the job. He grabs him and shakes him sober, screaming, “God dammit what do I keep you for?!” Mittens awoke now, his pupils the size of dinner plates. He looks and sees the mess left on the floor, knowing what creature could have done this. Mice. The husband drops the fat fuzzball and orders, “Find the mice and kill them!” Mittens obeys, for he knows disobedience gets you the gun. Just as he made way to the kitchen is when the two mice rocked the lamp down into the floor, shattering the glass. Mittens jumps hissing as the two scatter. Piggy runs for the couch, just barely putting his head in, dreaming of the food they will enjoy, the long winter sleep, only for Mittens to stab through his back with his claws. Piggy’s mouth leaked and sputtered blood as the cat lifted him up slowly, letting his body drag through the claws opening the wounds wider. His entrails began to slowly fall out like pink warm noodles. Mitten slurped them up, drinking him from the inside out until Piggy was but a severed head on the floor. Arnold had made it under the TV cabinet, screaming in horror at the young ones fate. He hears a snicker only to see Iggy cackling under, witnessing the entire ordeal. “You rotten rat!” Shouted Arnold, “You could’ve helped! Piggy didn’t have to die! You worthless bastard!” Iggy frowned and loomed over the now miniscule mouse. “You favor yourself to be smart,” Iggy responded, his demeanor much more sinister than before. “Yet all your smarts couldn’t save your friends from the game of life. Nor will it save you from your fate.” Iggy showed his sharp teeth, prompting Arnold to run for the kitchen. If him and Kyle could escape they could at least try and repopulate the burrow for more help. But the husband was not going to have it. A loud and quick STOMP. All of Arnold organs were shot out of any hold available. His eyes shot like billiard balls into the wall, his organs out of his sphincter, and his once proud brain nothing more than a stain on the rug. Kyle was in ruin, he screamed in fury at the fate of his friends. He shouted at the humans to take him too, for he couldn’t stand life without them. It was his decision to bring them here, and their deaths were on his hands. However, Ziggy had other plans. She grabs the distraught mouse and drags him outside. He fights and squirms but she was much stronger than him. Scar simply watched the mischief get the food out as the family cleaned up the mess that was left. By morning, the mess was done, but the damage was irreparable. Kyle was exhausted. Scar has some of the rats bring him their fair share. Enough for him and the burrow to survive winter, but he didn’t want it. He looked as Ziggy had met with Mittens outside the barn. A gunshot goes off, and a dejected mittens scowls at Ziggy. “Wasn’t my fault the mouse stabbed him. You should’ve thought ahead,” teased Ziggy. “You win this round, but next time I will be the one on top,” Mittens mused. “Yes well the rats this day get to live the high life for the next few months. Who knows, maybe the mice will go somewhere else, but I doubt it will be any better. All I know is that it will be an enjoyable show.” Kyle realized what had really happened. All this food was simply a consolation prize. He glares at Scar, knowing the cheese meant nothing. “I will tell them all about this, I will make sure they learn the truth about you!” He declared. Scar smirked and looked the mouse straight in the eye and only responded with one, cold sentence: “Not like it will change anything.” With that, Kyle was left alone, all the food to eat, and no friends to share it with. He sits down, and the first snowflake of winter begins to fall.