rata encantada

Chapter 1

The dew was getting your fur wet. The moon's light refracting of the drops gathering themselves on the blades of grass, a steady shower of liquid moonbeams falling across your head and back, making your ears twitch in the cool night air as you slink towards the house lit up in the distance.

What's moving? You pause ... Just the wind, carry on.

Streaming light escapes the windows of the colourful house, sending spotlights across the dirt path as you scamper across the dusty path and up the drain pipe to the windowsill.

Wait.

Check for big shadows.

...

Anything?

No? Move.

You had to squint against the bright light as you peer in, little clawed hands up against the glass as you sniff across the pane.

A creak of wood far too close makes you bounce back away from the glass, nearly causing you to topple off the sill. With a tilt, Casita knocks you back on to your feet, your little chest heaving and head whipping around before landing the source of noise. You go still as you watch the other half of the window swing, open and shut, open and shut rapidly in a housey wave. It props itself open, almost invitingly as you stare at the once swinging pane. The smells escaping through the gap make your nose twitch and stomach gurgle. The light which once poured out solitarily is now paired with the rich aroma of cooking spices and the tinkling keys of a far-enough-away-to-not-cause-worry piano and raised voices carried on the night air. You peek in.

Empty. Good to go.

Just as you think that, the windowsill under your feet bounces you forward, sending you skittering into the warm kitchen. Scrambling forward across the countertop, you're dropped onto the kitchen tiles, the clay rising under your feet sending you into a fit of panic as they try to urge you further into the house, dodging over the waves of tiles and dashing for the safety of shelter under the table.

The floor, as if sensing your fear collapses to stillness again. You lie under the aged wood, belly pressed to the ground and the sound of your quick panting ringing through your head, your heart beating, quick and light.

Why can it move??

WHY CAN IT MOVE???

Your eyes swivel this way and that, ears pinned back and breathing slowing. The house groaned to a rest beneath you. Quiet.

Right, well.

Snacktime.

Cautiously making your way out from beneath the table, you stick your head out a peer around the room. Aside from a few candles left flickering by the windows, and fire smouldering in the hearth, the room was dark, light pouring in from the entryway. No tilting window sills. No moving tiles. No waving window. Good. Digging your claws into the wood, you dash up the leg of the table, up towards the warm aroma leading you to your next meal. Peeking over the lip of the table, you spy a plate of arepas and hop up, heading straight for the dish. Whiskers twitching, you sink your teeth into the still warm dough and cheese. Tearing off the chunk, you chew quickly, stuffing your face with more and more pieces. You could feel the tiredness of the day wearing off as you ate more and more, stopping occasionally to wipe crumbs off your face onto the table and give you little hands a wash from the stickiness of the melty cheese. So taken were you with your meal you nearly missed to big kitchen light blink on above.

Nearly.

You stopped dead. You breathing and heartbeat picked up again. You had your back to the door. Why did you do that.