Rat

Wall

It is dark in here. Good. I like the dark.

There is plenty of room for me to move. There are wooden beams running in all directions, like a network of dead trees. I scamper across them like they are my own personal highway.

I am searching for food. Perhaps for you food is bountiful, but for me it is a constant struggle. There is never enough, and the search is continuous. So I search, I eat, and then I search again.

But there is no food here. This place is a wasteland. A desert. Still, I search. I know there is no food, but I smell something all the same. The scent is confusing; so much around me smells of food all the time, but by the time I get there the food is gone, and only the smell remains.

But the smell is strong. It is underneath me. If I could just get down into the cavity below... But it is impossible: pink clouds form a solid barrier below my network of straight limbs. There is no way down. They are not really clouds, of course, but I have no other words for this strange mass that is both soft and itchy, all at once. It covers everything. Perhaps it is a type of grass, or a fungus. It could be mold. Whatever it is, it is a barrier. I ignore it and continue, but there is no hope. There is no way down to the food.

No, I spoke too soon: there! A hole in the wood.

I rush over to the hole, look down. It is black. I can see nothing, even with my strong eyes. The smell of food is stronger through this hole. This is the way.

It is a leap of blind faith. I take it. Darkness claims me. It is instant: what little light I had to see is swallowed just as I am. I fall for some time. I reach out with my paws and find a wall to scratch against. I use this to slow my descent until I land on something solid.

I investigate. It is wood. It smells like wood and... Something else. Not food. It is not a pleasant smell. In the dark, it is hard to know what it could be. It is all around me; it is coming from the wood.

I look up. The hole is visible, a light-dark patch surrounded by complete black. It is too far for me to jump. I will not escape if I cannot find a way out. I hunt through the hole.

The hole is small. It is not much bigger than I am. I reach a wall in front of me, a wall behind, and walls on either side. There is nothing to suggest an exit.

Have I fallen to my death?

I scratch at the wall. The structure is soft; I feel bits of bark-like material come away under my claws. I keep scratching.

Something bangs on the wall, hard. bang, bang, bang. I jump, surprised. I hear a shout: it is one of the large beasts. It is yelling at the wall.

It is screeching at me.

I pause. I wait. I begin again. It is not long before the pounding begins again, and the screeching hits my ears. It is painful. I grow afraid.

I wait again. I know if I scratch at the walls, the beasts will react in the same way. But there is no way out. I cannot escape. I must claw some more. I must keep clawing until I am free.

If I ever will be free.