Ruzi
New Member
I was working on this as a new short story, and unlike what I usually do, I wasn't aiming for lots of detail and images, but more making a simple story enjoyable to read and getting the reader to pause and think about the meaning for a moment would be icing on the cake.
Now, This is just my first draft of it, and I don't expect it to be all that good, so if anyone can be kind enough to give me some suggestions and tips I would really appreciate it.
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There was nothing. Blackness with his feet shaking below him as his temporary world moved. Of course he couldn’t see any of it. There wasn’t a drop of light in his little box of a universe. But he was a mouse. What did he care for light? He strained his tiny ears, listening to the footsteps that carried his home along.
It wasn’t ‘really’ a ‘home’ per se, but he used it as such when the man decided to move. He moved quite often, concluded the mouse. From place to place with little regard for the people in each place as it came and went. The days did that too and he wondered how long it had been.
The Footsteps stopped and the mouse dug, his little clawed hands moving aside the papers in the box to bury himself beneath them. Poking his nose out and taking a whiff of the air, he listened to the man fumble with a set of keys. The air was no different and the mouse didn’t care. How he hated the jangling sound of keys. It hurt his ears.
Upon hearing a click and then the door easing open, the walking resumed and the mouse clung to his bits of paper with his world shaking yet again. It was commonplace, and so he never complained, though if he could have he would have made a face when the bottle cap full of drinking water sloshed in the corner of the box. Wonderful, he thought. Simply marvelous.
He could feel his world moving more slowly now and finally coming to rest on a flat sturdy surface. The mouse paused, waiting patiently in the darkness, the ink on the paper beneath him running slightly from the small amount spilt water. Crawling towards the lid of his box he listened. Easily able to hear the man turn and lock the door again he had no trouble at all hearing the man’s voice.
“You may come out now, Mouse.”
The mouse nudged the lid open with his nose, slinking out of his tiny chambers like a fox from its den, though, slightly less dangerous. Looking around the room the mouse squinted, adjusting his eyes to the new light and drawing himself up to perch on top of a cigar box on the desk his own box now rested on.
“We have moved again then, but for what and how long shall we be here?” asked the mouse as his whiskers twitched taking in the scent of this new place.
“Until I finish taking care of something. I do have a special letter to send regarding my dear sister’s money,” came the reply.
The mouse shuddered, “One should not fool one’s kin.” Said the mouse as he deftly set about grooming his fur and ears with his hands while continuing, “Kin are kin and what you do will come back to you. I give advice only for concern. I have made my own mistakes. Did you not ever wonder why I suffer so with my brother mice?”
“I truly couldn’t care less. Mice are not people. Mice are small, they steal and hide. People have no reason to live as such. We have nothing in common.” As he said this he sank into a large chair putting a hand over his eyes.
The mouse considered this for a moment.
“But people ‘do’ live as such. Are you yourself not one of them? You say mice are bad. We do steal, but hold that in all honesty and respect. Unlike yourself. It is one thing to steal and cheat and lie, but not to one’s own blood. Do you not admit you act more a mouse than I? I have done no ill in all my time in this tiny body. I have learned my lesson, but you not yours. Do you not believe in karma?”
“I have little use for such things, but how can you say that when it’s you living in that cramped little box, with your long naked tail and bead black eyes. I am no mouse, Mouse. You should hardly be able to speak of ill will to one of your own blood. After all, when you can eat your siblings, family bonds seems so weak.”
The mouse stopped before sitting back on his haunches and locking his eyes on the man, “Are you saying I am but a lie? As I said, I have learned my lessons and you not yours. Is it really so hard to take advice offered? For even seemingly small ill turns receive punishment in time.”
The Mouse’s words fell of deaf ears, for the man had fallen asleep. Moving from his perch he scuttled over to the letter set on the desk earlier and unfolded it. Yes, one turn good or ill, deserved another, and beside his overwhelming pity that hung in the mouse’s heart, grew hope. He had learned his lesson, shouldn’t another learn theirs? And with that would come freedom.
Hours had passed while the man slept and the mouse sat watching him. The mouse wore a smile on his lips. Yes, a smile. When the man finally stirred, he stretched first, then yawned and opened his eyes. His mind was still foggy with sleep; he paid no attention to the mouse looking down at him. Down? At him? He leapt to his feet and out of his chair. Or he would have, if he hadn’t tripped over his long naked tail and fallen head over feet from the pillow he had been leaning on.
Fear and confusion swelled up in his mind as the mouse, well, he wasn’t a mouse anymore, but a man, picked him up in his hands. Real hands. Mouse rejoiced in his thoughts, those words over and over. He had real hands again.
“One should not wish ill on their own kin,” said Mouse, “For then people would be like mice, eating their siblings and others of their kind, oh what poor family ties! But you have acted as I once did, and where I have learned my lesson, you not have yours. I asked if you believed in karma, and I told you of sure punishment that would come for your actions. In all your years have you learned nothing oh mouse?”
Mouse, though he wasn’t a mouse anymore and couldn’t imagine himself by any other name, stroked the small man’s ears before going on with his words.
The man was terrified and his small feet scrabbled against the large hands as Mouse gently lowered him into the box.
“People were not meant to be as cruel as mice, but now you are truly with your kin, and they care not if you betray them, but you are new to their world, and they will best betray you. That would only happen if you were free, but I will keep you safe as you did me. One good turn for a bad mouse.”
The Mouse shut the lid on the box, only vaguely recalling the spilt water and dusty smell of the confined space that had been his world. His safe, secure world.
“You should always listen to good advice little mouse, no matter how big or small the advice may be. One turn will get another, and there are oh so many turns.”
“Yes,” the new mouse answered the man, “I will.”
Now, This is just my first draft of it, and I don't expect it to be all that good, so if anyone can be kind enough to give me some suggestions and tips I would really appreciate it.
.................................................................
There was nothing. Blackness with his feet shaking below him as his temporary world moved. Of course he couldn’t see any of it. There wasn’t a drop of light in his little box of a universe. But he was a mouse. What did he care for light? He strained his tiny ears, listening to the footsteps that carried his home along.
It wasn’t ‘really’ a ‘home’ per se, but he used it as such when the man decided to move. He moved quite often, concluded the mouse. From place to place with little regard for the people in each place as it came and went. The days did that too and he wondered how long it had been.
The Footsteps stopped and the mouse dug, his little clawed hands moving aside the papers in the box to bury himself beneath them. Poking his nose out and taking a whiff of the air, he listened to the man fumble with a set of keys. The air was no different and the mouse didn’t care. How he hated the jangling sound of keys. It hurt his ears.
Upon hearing a click and then the door easing open, the walking resumed and the mouse clung to his bits of paper with his world shaking yet again. It was commonplace, and so he never complained, though if he could have he would have made a face when the bottle cap full of drinking water sloshed in the corner of the box. Wonderful, he thought. Simply marvelous.
He could feel his world moving more slowly now and finally coming to rest on a flat sturdy surface. The mouse paused, waiting patiently in the darkness, the ink on the paper beneath him running slightly from the small amount spilt water. Crawling towards the lid of his box he listened. Easily able to hear the man turn and lock the door again he had no trouble at all hearing the man’s voice.
“You may come out now, Mouse.”
The mouse nudged the lid open with his nose, slinking out of his tiny chambers like a fox from its den, though, slightly less dangerous. Looking around the room the mouse squinted, adjusting his eyes to the new light and drawing himself up to perch on top of a cigar box on the desk his own box now rested on.
“We have moved again then, but for what and how long shall we be here?” asked the mouse as his whiskers twitched taking in the scent of this new place.
“Until I finish taking care of something. I do have a special letter to send regarding my dear sister’s money,” came the reply.
The mouse shuddered, “One should not fool one’s kin.” Said the mouse as he deftly set about grooming his fur and ears with his hands while continuing, “Kin are kin and what you do will come back to you. I give advice only for concern. I have made my own mistakes. Did you not ever wonder why I suffer so with my brother mice?”
“I truly couldn’t care less. Mice are not people. Mice are small, they steal and hide. People have no reason to live as such. We have nothing in common.” As he said this he sank into a large chair putting a hand over his eyes.
The mouse considered this for a moment.
“But people ‘do’ live as such. Are you yourself not one of them? You say mice are bad. We do steal, but hold that in all honesty and respect. Unlike yourself. It is one thing to steal and cheat and lie, but not to one’s own blood. Do you not admit you act more a mouse than I? I have done no ill in all my time in this tiny body. I have learned my lesson, but you not yours. Do you not believe in karma?”
“I have little use for such things, but how can you say that when it’s you living in that cramped little box, with your long naked tail and bead black eyes. I am no mouse, Mouse. You should hardly be able to speak of ill will to one of your own blood. After all, when you can eat your siblings, family bonds seems so weak.”
The mouse stopped before sitting back on his haunches and locking his eyes on the man, “Are you saying I am but a lie? As I said, I have learned my lessons and you not yours. Is it really so hard to take advice offered? For even seemingly small ill turns receive punishment in time.”
The Mouse’s words fell of deaf ears, for the man had fallen asleep. Moving from his perch he scuttled over to the letter set on the desk earlier and unfolded it. Yes, one turn good or ill, deserved another, and beside his overwhelming pity that hung in the mouse’s heart, grew hope. He had learned his lesson, shouldn’t another learn theirs? And with that would come freedom.
Hours had passed while the man slept and the mouse sat watching him. The mouse wore a smile on his lips. Yes, a smile. When the man finally stirred, he stretched first, then yawned and opened his eyes. His mind was still foggy with sleep; he paid no attention to the mouse looking down at him. Down? At him? He leapt to his feet and out of his chair. Or he would have, if he hadn’t tripped over his long naked tail and fallen head over feet from the pillow he had been leaning on.
Fear and confusion swelled up in his mind as the mouse, well, he wasn’t a mouse anymore, but a man, picked him up in his hands. Real hands. Mouse rejoiced in his thoughts, those words over and over. He had real hands again.
“One should not wish ill on their own kin,” said Mouse, “For then people would be like mice, eating their siblings and others of their kind, oh what poor family ties! But you have acted as I once did, and where I have learned my lesson, you not have yours. I asked if you believed in karma, and I told you of sure punishment that would come for your actions. In all your years have you learned nothing oh mouse?”
Mouse, though he wasn’t a mouse anymore and couldn’t imagine himself by any other name, stroked the small man’s ears before going on with his words.
The man was terrified and his small feet scrabbled against the large hands as Mouse gently lowered him into the box.
“People were not meant to be as cruel as mice, but now you are truly with your kin, and they care not if you betray them, but you are new to their world, and they will best betray you. That would only happen if you were free, but I will keep you safe as you did me. One good turn for a bad mouse.”
The Mouse shut the lid on the box, only vaguely recalling the spilt water and dusty smell of the confined space that had been his world. His safe, secure world.
“You should always listen to good advice little mouse, no matter how big or small the advice may be. One turn will get another, and there are oh so many turns.”
“Yes,” the new mouse answered the man, “I will.”
