June And The Dead Rat
Good morning :) Another old short story I wrote over 7 years ago:
June And The Dead Rat
Down low between the tension of tall, city buildings, there sat a small dwelling with a granite stone chimney top. Seasons were changing; the leaves of the few rust colored trees made patterns under the orange sunlight. Thick ivy and rue grew wild up the side of the little domicile and sheltered its dirty windows from the dripping rain. Sweet plants left lingering scents dancing on the air while blackbirds screamed sharp from nearby alleyways, daring any soul to tread their dark nesting grounds. Inside lived a tiny woman named Juniper. And she was no ordinary sort of woman.
June could hear the words of an infant bird as it cried. She could see the thick poison in sick trees, and she could taste the acid in gathered rainwater. One morning, as the early sun barely grazed the surface of her dark, warm bed, June awoke to the scratchy rustling of very small feet on her kitchen floor. Curiosity dragged her from the pleasure of rest. She ventured into the kitchen, but no evidence suggested any living creature had scampered across the sticky floor. A tainted, copper tea pot sat on the old stove. As she lifted its handle, some small, whiskered nose stuck itself out of the eye to smell her. The copper pot flew from her hands and crashed to the floor with a terrible noise. Outside, the sun blasted through the sky.
Fear wrapped June up tight in its ugly arms, so she searched frantically for a way to kill the rodent invading her space. A broom in the pantry caught her eye. But if she missed, the rat may bite her and pass a bitter disease. Her mind painted her falling to the linoleum with the black plague. So she searched for another way to kill the intruder. She reached for an old coffee can and waited for Rat.
As soon as quiet descended across Rat's path, he decided to make a run for the plaster wall. Suddenly, a siren from somewhere screamed as June slammed down the coffee can, trapping Rat. She waited as the creature scurried around under the tin. After about 15 short minutes, June heard the animal making desperate attempts to breathe as its air slowly left. Silence came once again to the small room. Lifting the can, June looked down upon the poor, pitiful body of the lifeless creature. It was lying on its side, its little mouth open and confused eyes half closed. June began to feel a horrible guilt flood through her.
She sat for half a day, staring at the dead rodent on the floor. She wished for a mysterious breath of wind to come and give life back to her visitor. But this did not happen. On into the night, June's guilt seemed to build up on her heart like a sticky, thick mold. It pulled on her eyes and made tears fall onto the wasting little body of Rat. She felt the hatred of herself squeezing on her insides. The only thing left to do was to hold a ceremony in honor of Rat and try to beg his spirit for forgiveness. So she set up an altar on the kitchen table.
There were old candles she'd dug from bed drawers, a lantern from the bathroom without a working lamp, and little Christmas lights she'd found bundled behind a closet door. She ripped strips of cloth from her best gown and dipped them in spiced oils. As they dried on the old, chipped radiator, she picked up the creature from the floor. Rat was then placed upon a wood block, where June proceeded to chop off its head. This would separate its soul from the little carcass. Spirits traveled through minds and skulls, and took with them the lessons learned during life. She placed the head into a pot, and boiled it for an hour. The smell of tough meat and spices she'd purposely spilled on the altar permeated her small home. As Rat's head skin fell away in the rolling water, his bones began to shine. After the skull was properly prepared and anointed with cinnamon oil, June placed it upon her altar. Candles were lit, and Rat's headless body laid motionless on the wooden table. She had surrounded him with petals of white lilies. She sprinkled ground cloves on his tiny form and asked dark angels to guide him into a place of exciting pipelines and low lit lakes. The sky grew dark and the moon disappeared.
In this rare, shadowed moment, there rose an odd sort of clatter outside. She opened the front door. The skeletons of ten thousand rats stared out of their empty sockets. June fell to her knees and cried to them. They began crawling their way into every orifice of her body, until she was filled up with their pointy bones. Her life blood began to slip out onto the floor. After three days of death, June's home was drowned in the stench of soured flesh and scented oils. Melted wax icicles hung from the table. June's body began to move.
Her reanimation began with jerky limbs and sketchy eyes. June soon realized she had trapped her own soul into her dead body through a guilt-induced spell of witches. She felt the tiny bones inside her, tearing away her remains and feasting upon her heart. As they devoured June's carcass, her imprisoned soul split into tiny pieces and was spread to every dead rat that enjoyed her flesh. The rats ate their way out of June's nourishing body. They licked up the blood caked on the floor. There was no more June. But that fragmented soul was alive in their bellies, and it ached to be whole again. It caused the rats to desire each other, and to populate the city by the millions. Now every time a rat encounters its death by human hands, a little, broken soul goes screaming into the night. And this is June's eternal hell.
June And The Dead Rat
Down low between the tension of tall, city buildings, there sat a small dwelling with a granite stone chimney top. Seasons were changing; the leaves of the few rust colored trees made patterns under the orange sunlight. Thick ivy and rue grew wild up the side of the little domicile and sheltered its dirty windows from the dripping rain. Sweet plants left lingering scents dancing on the air while blackbirds screamed sharp from nearby alleyways, daring any soul to tread their dark nesting grounds. Inside lived a tiny woman named Juniper. And she was no ordinary sort of woman.
June could hear the words of an infant bird as it cried. She could see the thick poison in sick trees, and she could taste the acid in gathered rainwater. One morning, as the early sun barely grazed the surface of her dark, warm bed, June awoke to the scratchy rustling of very small feet on her kitchen floor. Curiosity dragged her from the pleasure of rest. She ventured into the kitchen, but no evidence suggested any living creature had scampered across the sticky floor. A tainted, copper tea pot sat on the old stove. As she lifted its handle, some small, whiskered nose stuck itself out of the eye to smell her. The copper pot flew from her hands and crashed to the floor with a terrible noise. Outside, the sun blasted through the sky.
Fear wrapped June up tight in its ugly arms, so she searched frantically for a way to kill the rodent invading her space. A broom in the pantry caught her eye. But if she missed, the rat may bite her and pass a bitter disease. Her mind painted her falling to the linoleum with the black plague. So she searched for another way to kill the intruder. She reached for an old coffee can and waited for Rat.
As soon as quiet descended across Rat's path, he decided to make a run for the plaster wall. Suddenly, a siren from somewhere screamed as June slammed down the coffee can, trapping Rat. She waited as the creature scurried around under the tin. After about 15 short minutes, June heard the animal making desperate attempts to breathe as its air slowly left. Silence came once again to the small room. Lifting the can, June looked down upon the poor, pitiful body of the lifeless creature. It was lying on its side, its little mouth open and confused eyes half closed. June began to feel a horrible guilt flood through her.
She sat for half a day, staring at the dead rodent on the floor. She wished for a mysterious breath of wind to come and give life back to her visitor. But this did not happen. On into the night, June's guilt seemed to build up on her heart like a sticky, thick mold. It pulled on her eyes and made tears fall onto the wasting little body of Rat. She felt the hatred of herself squeezing on her insides. The only thing left to do was to hold a ceremony in honor of Rat and try to beg his spirit for forgiveness. So she set up an altar on the kitchen table.
There were old candles she'd dug from bed drawers, a lantern from the bathroom without a working lamp, and little Christmas lights she'd found bundled behind a closet door. She ripped strips of cloth from her best gown and dipped them in spiced oils. As they dried on the old, chipped radiator, she picked up the creature from the floor. Rat was then placed upon a wood block, where June proceeded to chop off its head. This would separate its soul from the little carcass. Spirits traveled through minds and skulls, and took with them the lessons learned during life. She placed the head into a pot, and boiled it for an hour. The smell of tough meat and spices she'd purposely spilled on the altar permeated her small home. As Rat's head skin fell away in the rolling water, his bones began to shine. After the skull was properly prepared and anointed with cinnamon oil, June placed it upon her altar. Candles were lit, and Rat's headless body laid motionless on the wooden table. She had surrounded him with petals of white lilies. She sprinkled ground cloves on his tiny form and asked dark angels to guide him into a place of exciting pipelines and low lit lakes. The sky grew dark and the moon disappeared.
In this rare, shadowed moment, there rose an odd sort of clatter outside. She opened the front door. The skeletons of ten thousand rats stared out of their empty sockets. June fell to her knees and cried to them. They began crawling their way into every orifice of her body, until she was filled up with their pointy bones. Her life blood began to slip out onto the floor. After three days of death, June's home was drowned in the stench of soured flesh and scented oils. Melted wax icicles hung from the table. June's body began to move.
Her reanimation began with jerky limbs and sketchy eyes. June soon realized she had trapped her own soul into her dead body through a guilt-induced spell of witches. She felt the tiny bones inside her, tearing away her remains and feasting upon her heart. As they devoured June's carcass, her imprisoned soul split into tiny pieces and was spread to every dead rat that enjoyed her flesh. The rats ate their way out of June's nourishing body. They licked up the blood caked on the floor. There was no more June. But that fragmented soul was alive in their bellies, and it ached to be whole again. It caused the rats to desire each other, and to populate the city by the millions. Now every time a rat encounters its death by human hands, a little, broken soul goes screaming into the night. And this is June's eternal hell.
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