Mice Business

In a room in a house with no broom and a mouse- not mouse, mice- gloom souse whomever witnesses the creature within.

When slithers of light snake through the bleak drapes of the room the usually stiff motionless limp body on the moth-eaten bed twitches; with a harsh scrape- which informs the mice it is time to hide- the mattress inflates, except for the prominent engraved outline of a corpse; floor boards squeak under uncommon pressure; the drapes are tugged around releasing clouds of dust and spores of mould until the room is back in total darkness. Skilfully, the creature makes its way back to its bed.

Misfortune had it that the lights were flicked on- just as the mice proceeded to their daily commotion they were interrupted, yet again- and started buzzing. This ceremonious occasion, which had ought to be about the suspicious landlord's arrival, had occurred for a different reason.

The desolate dismal dreary room- which once looked glistening and had an abundance of food crumbs as the eldest mice recall- looked no less melancholic with lights on. The trembling pale corpse of a man started digging through piles of dust and spider webs: finally retrieving a yellowish paper and a half dry fountain pen. He then sat back on his bed; with an audible long breath he began scribbling. Briefly, he looked youthful.

I would like to apologise to the world for my wrong doings.

After a lifetime of opposing those who are pious, I may finally understand the atrocious nature of my morals. Morals are a strange thing, for we may be so certain of them only to find them false decades later.

No matter how many people tell us that our ideologies are erroneous, we may never realise our ideologies’ shortcomings until after years of contemplation in solitude. Of course, I can only speak from my experience. That is a tragic plot which some people endure.

Surely, however, those who err in such a manner deserve some sympathy. Often such people lack the intelligence to discern the results of their actions and hence are doomed to see the consequences unfold in the real world. Rather than ostracising them, I feel it more reasonable to show some understanding. Realising that some of these people may look to repent for their actions helps us grow as individuals. Yes, their doings might have hurt us, but certainly, their actions are rooted in pain or ignorance.

A spider dangling from the ceiling bit the man on his neck and with a jolt of pain the spider landed on the floor: the man simply tossed him away.

Greatly, I regret many things. Of course, I have made some mistakes. Of course, I would hope to repent for some things. Daring to admit my imperfection, I ask the world to forgive me. Beyond the border of light, I now journey. Years may pass before I rest. Eons I will endure for I do not need rest.

A tear trickled down his face and he laid down. This time to truly never get up-the mice could tell.