Back at the prison, they are devouring their tasty dinner and cuddling on soft bedding, but I prefer eating from trash and sleeping in sewers.
Hairless skin and an ID ear tag make me look like a lab rat. But I’m not. Not anymore.
Now I am a free rat.
Olga Klezovitch is a scientist who lives in Seattle. Her previous work has appeared in 50-Word Stories, Necon E-Books, and A Story In 100 Words.
“Look, Pa! A dead rat!”
“Lemme see, Gerald,” said Pa. “Ah, it’s only a skellington and a bit of skin. Musta died a long time ago. Funny how nice he’s sittin’, like he went out calm and peaceful. Makes you wonder, kinda.”
Deep inside Ratankhamen’s corpse, a long-preserved soul-spark flared.
A mouse lived inside my walls. I tried to feed it cheese and peanut butter and other tasty things.
“I cannot take your gifts, sir,” it said. “I am afraid you will trap me!”
I convinced it I wouldn’t. We became friends.
A small problem: my rodent-phobic wife found out.
This story is based on a title suggested by @eikoandmog.
Chester “Chatterbox” Paolo struggled against his bonds. “Let me go! I swear I didn’t say nothin’ to nobody!”
“Tell it to the fishes, rat!” said his assailant, pushing him off the bridge.
Chatterbox plunged. As the icy water filled his lungs, he began to regret his choice of gangster nickname.
Matthew Holman is a student of English Literature who finds it easier to write fifty-word stories than to finish his dissertation.
“‘You saved my life, Ratman! How can I thank you?’ – ‘I didn’t save you so you could thank me, Mr. Cheese. I just wanted to eat you myself!’ – ‘Oh no! Help me, someone!”
“Rusty, stop playing with your food!” snapped mother. “Why can’t you act like we normal mice do?”
The former mayor sat pouting in the gutter. “He’s hoodwinked them all with his luscious, bushy beard!” he muttered. “I must uncover his secret! But how?”
“Did somebody say ‘Butt Howe’?” wheedled a large rat wearing a silk top hat. “At your service!”
“You can help me?”
“For a price.”
This story is a sequel to this story.