Posts Tagged ‘ Animals ’

The Little Rabbit — A short story.

 It was a chilly morning and the little rabbit shivered into his mother’s soft, musky fur. He felt the autumn breeze biting into his back as they laid together. They always liked to snuggle closely in the cold. He remembered there was nothing more comforting than laying with his mother and family when it was raining or windy. As he waited next to her, he heard a familiar noise in the distance — it was coming closer again, like before. It roared loudly, a monster coming to get him, he thought. He nudged his mother’s side with his nose. but she didn’t react. The little rabbit was too tired to get up and run. His heart beat faster as the monster growled over him and his still mother… It sped away into the distance. Quiet again. He looked around at his surroundings. The road he lay on glistened with dew in the low morning sun. It was very cold and even her fur wasn’t warm any more. It was damp and cool against his nose. As he turned to look at her staring brown eyes, he saw a trickle of red falling from her velvet-soft nose. That nose that had snuffled through the grass on a hazy afternoon. She stared into the nothingness. He looked over her body, remembering how she would clean her face with her now spiritless paws. How she had listened for danger with those pale ears.The little rabbit and his mother laid together on the wet, unforgiving tarmac as the cars drove past them and over them, too busy to stop and ask them why they were there.

 He heard the birds beginning to sing. It was a wondrous sound to hear on such a pretty, autumnal  morning. The robin, with his liquid song and the wood pigeons, cooing to each other high up in the trees. So many different little voices, all singing, all talking to one another. The dawn chorus dripped down over the pair; he was sure the birds were singing a sad song, remarking on their situation. Then, he heard the clack-clacking of the hungry black and white corvids. Perhaps they followed the sad songs in order to cash in on such a circumstance. They circled the mother and son, chattering to each other as they did so. They began to make for his mother, when the little rabbit pulled enough strength together to move a little. No, he wasn’t dead yet. And he wasn’t going to just leave her here, on her own in the cold. The magpies flapped out of the way as another monstrous car whizzed over them. He almost wished that the car would knock him again so he wouldn’t have to be apart from his mother any longer. His little body was aching greatly, and all he could do was nuzzle up and daydream they were back in their cozy warren. He dreamt of the dewy morning grass and the warm afternoon sunshine on his back. It felt like days that they laid there. Him trying to ward off the scavengers, her keeping him company in her silent state.

 Now, the sun was up and the day was beginning to warm slightly. He scarcely clung on to his little life. It was hard to keep his eyes open; he was very cold and tired now. Tiny ears were laid flat and little eyes were heavy, laying next to a dead rigid mother. Many cars had now driven over them, and he didn’t even have the strength to be frightened any more. Again, he heard an oncoming car in the distance. But this time it didn’t zoom past. It stopped before them. He heard the tick-tick-tick of the engine close to him and footsteps running over. Before he knew what was happening, he had been scooped up from the wet road into the warm arms of a human. He was wrapped up and deposited in a cardboard box, then loaded into her car. He dripped clashing red blood onto the silky cerise scarf. Suddenly, everything became quiet. He laid in the dark of the box, a chink of light seeping in above him. What about my mother? Don’t forget her… He thought. It was a little while before the human got back into the car with him. She had moved the other rabbit into the hedges. His mother didn’t appear in the box with him. He could still smell her on his fur, though. He closed his eyes, and embraced the quiet darkness. Resting in the comfort of the big box, he now felt his body hurting. He remembered the clip he took to the face as he ran out with his mother into the road. He had been behind her just as she was run over. He sighed heavily at the thought of leaving her behind.

Now he could feel that he was moving; he was travelling to somewhere. Moments later, the movement stopped and he heard the human talking to him. Opening the car door, she peeped into the box, and stroked his soft ear. He had warmed up somewhat now, but continued to spill spots of blood from his mouth over the garish scarf. She carried him and the box into her house and carefully placed the box down. She spoke hurriedly to another human about him. A quiet place was cleared and phone calls were made. He was carried away by a thankful uniformed man and the little rabbit’s sad story was explained many times more.

A Letter of Complaint to my Conscience

Dear Sir / Madam of my Conscience,

I am writing this letter of complaint as I am having trouble sleeping. While you were away all those years, I had a wonderful relationship with my bed. I never laid awake, pondering all the problems in the world. But since you have suddenly appeared in the depths of my brain, I can no longer doze off into a wonderful dream-world. You suddenly conjure up pictures of all the things that worry me and it usually happens about four seconds before I would normally drift off. This, I believe, is totally unacceptable. I am not a monster. I do not kidnap children, shoot people or steal money. And since your arrival, I have even stopped eating animals. I can understand what you’re trying to get at, but why must you metaphorically elbow me in the head at 11:59pm on a work night? Some subjects I can cope with. But when you bother me with subjects such as ‘What’s going on in those fields across the road?’ and ‘What happens in all those slaughterhouses?’ I just can’t cope.

I really don’t mind you bothering me, but please come find me at a more appropriate time of day. I am rather partial to a nap in the afternoons, and although I enjoy it, I would rather be woken by you and your morbid subjects so I can get it out of the way early. Thanks in advance.

Yours,

Me.

Mama’s Weekend Off

 Saturday

05:50am

OK… I just heard the heating come on. That means I’ve got say, twenty minutes. I can see it’s getting a little lighter outside. Can’t be long now. Maybe I’ll sit and wait by the door. Just so I’ll be on time. Nothing worse than a tardy wake-up call. They’d be rather annoyed if I stopped being so predictable. Yes. I’ll sit and wait for the signal.

06:00am

Right. She should be up by now? Come on… Nobody’s moving in there! I hope they haven’t forgotten. Well. Oh, wait… I heard someth- Oh no. False alarm. But, speaking of alarms I’d better get going. Time’s moving on. I’ll start from a distance. I don’t want to startle them and make them think something’s wrong. I mean, there is something wrong, but I don’t want to make her run out thinking one of us is in trouble. I’m nice like that, you know. Considerate.

06:30am

Ok, ok, this is getting silly. I can’t wait much longer. And the other two are getting impatient. I’m in charge here and I need action for my brothers! Full attack then…

06:45am

Goodness, I’m going full pelt now and nothing! I can hear one of them making a sort of ‘psshhh’-ing noise. Was it aimed at me? Well if it was, then come out and say it to me and my hungry brothers! I’ll keep on at your door until I break your will. WE MUST HAVE OUR BREAKFAST!

07:00am

I’ve been meowing for nearly an hour now. Oh, wait – here she comes!! Quick, if all three of us gather at the door, there’s no way she can ignore us. And if she tries to go back, I’ll push my way in with her. Good grief, she looks awful. Looks as though she’s hardly slept. Wonder why? Oh well, she’s going to the kitchen now. Better go and see she’s doing her job properly.

A-ha! I know that sound… It’s the food cupboard! At last! Breakfast is served. Thanks, Mama. You can go back to wherever you came from. You need some beauty sleep. Or a facelift.

Oscar – My daily alarm (whether I set him or not).

Careless Eyes

Inspired by @RhiannonFox ‘s poetry on her blog, I decided to post an old poem I wrote a few years ago.

Thanks Rhiannon! 🙂

Careless Eyes

He is waiting for her.

He shivers into himself

as the cold spring dawn numbs him.

~

The watery sun rises reluctantly,

casting long shadows though the spidery trees.

He watches patiently and thoughtfully.

~

He remembers her warmth next to him,

so safe.

He longs for that comfort now.

 ~

Shifting anxiously,

he eyes the horizon

for any sign of her in the distance.

Nothing.

~

Further out in the bustling city,

on a busy stretch of road

a grotesque and grisly figure

is sprawled on the verge.

~

Her delicate is neck broken

and her graceful body

now stiffened by rigour.

They abandoned her there,

no second thoughts

for who’s waiting for her.

 ~

And they’ll all rush by without a care,

turning a blind eye to her

until she fades away forever.

 ~

Soft spiritless feathers

blow in the wind as they pass.