The Struggle

 

The drowned rat in the pool.

It was walking along the side but somehow it slipped and fell in.

Sinking, sinking.

Softly, slowly, sliding into the endless suffocating chasm.

Dark cold arms fold around it,

Holding it and all the while pulling it,

Deeper into the icy realm of soft sweet death.

Just then it opens its eyes.

Just then it realizes the terrible fait that awaits it.

Is it strong enough?

Will it make it through?

It claws, scrapes, struggles, and bites.

Finally the arms release it, and it claws its way up towards the surface.

Towards light.

It surfaces and gasps a breath of air.

It takes all of its strength to drag itself up from the watery arms below it.

To pull itself to the side.

Back  on to its track.

It continues on its way,

But the water still clings in heavy matted droplets to its soggy fur,

And the arms still lurk in the pool.

Just waiting for another victim.

Just waiting for it to return,

To drag it back down,

And perhaps next time to keep it in the hollow,

Miserable,

Deathly world.

Just waiting.

Waiting...