A Rat's Nirvana

I write fairytales for adults. This is one of them and as a teaser, I thought it would be nice to give you a little taste of what I can do...

A RAT’S NIRVANA

Imagine an old, thick, wooden table. Dark and heavy, the kind you find in rustic kitchens. Now imagine a rustic kitchen with a thick wooden table in its’ centre, with the remains of an elaborate feast trickling its’ seeps trough the breathing wood. The sweaty cheese, the stale beer, the blood from the lamb still on the heavy silver plate with it’s big bone lying there exposed to a now chilly morning air. Like the dry skin covered bones in an elephant graveyard. There is a beam of light coming through the shutters on the back of the house. Just a little slice of moon colored pale early morning light cutting through the dank alcohol and matured meat smell saturated air. Like a benevolent dagger would do. And small flecks of dust already dance inside of it. Catching the first and early light like eager dancers do in the spotlight. That slowly and gracefully fall into the hands of gravities fate. Now imagine, on the table and between the remainders of that extensive feast, a figure dancing slowly with the dust. A small, dark and elated figure lifting its’ head to the imaginary butterflies he sees fluttering over his head. His tiny distorted claws or paws playing with the light around them. His feverish eyes only half open. And a happy smile around his large white teeth softens his grotesque features.

Once upon a time there was a woman who lived in an enormous house that belonged to her mother. She, her mother and her sister all lived together. Although this had not always been the case, long ago, so far back in her minds eye that she could barely remember, it had all been different. But those where the ‘days back then’ of witch no one spoke. In fact, this woman’s most distinguishing trait was that she did not speak at all.