Three little mice

Jes, Jed and Jem were three little mice who lived

at 27 Nice Mice Ride. One day they decided that they
were grown up enough to go out into the big wide 
world and start their own mouse colony.

They wanted to stay out late, sleep until noon and eat 
junk food all day. They were fed up with being told 
“Eat your greens up” and “Get up, it's your turn to 
find breakfast, everyone is hungry and waiting”

The three little mice thought if they lived with their 
friends they all be as lazy as they liked and it wouldn't
matter. They decided to become house mice and to 
move into the human's house, it was warm there and 
there was always plenty to eat, especially junk food 
like biscuit and crisp crumbs, not boring stuff like 
acorns and seeds.

Finally the great day arrived. This was the day they 
had been planning for. They had spent a long time 
checking the outside of the house and working out
how to get inside. They tried to persuade some of the
other mice to go with them but no one would, they 
were afraid of what might await them inside the house.

Our three brave adventurers had no fear, they would
soon be living the life of Riley. They crept around the 
shed, along the patio wall and then ran to the safety 
of a large dandelion growing beside the door. They hid
underneath the dandelion leaves and tried to get their
breath back while they waited for the door to open.
They waited and waited, shivering partly from cold as
it was getting dark and had started to rain and partly 
from fear. Would the door never open?



Just as they were about to give up and return home, 
the door opened, “Quick lads, here's our chance!” 
squeaked Jes, the three mice threw themselves 
through the door just as it was closing. “That was a 
close shave” panted Jem “Is everyone ok?”.
Once they'd checked each other over and decided they
were uninjured they looked around to see where they
were. They hadn't got right inside the house but at
least they were out of the rain. There didn't seem to 
be much food around but by now the three little mice 
were too tired to care. They found a dark corner and 
snuggled up in a little furry ball and fell asleep.


The next morning the three little mice woke up as soon
as it was light, they stretched, had a wash and crept
out to look for something to eat. “I thought you said 
there was good food to eat in the house” said Jed
“I can't find anything, not even an acorn” complained
Jem. “We aren't in the house yet” explained Jes.
“We have to get through that door over there, then 
there will be plenty to eat”. As the day wore on the 
three little mice got hungrier and hungrier for there 
was no food anywhere to be found and they couldn't 
even go home as they couldn't get back out through 
the other door. 



Fortunately there was plenty to drink as there was a
leaky pipe behind the dishwasher so they had a good 

supply of fresh water. Eventually it started to get dark
again and just as the mice were settling down to sleep
the door opened. The mice crept nearer and nearer,
would they be able to slip through before the door shut
again? Yes, they made it, they hurried through the 
door and dived for the nearest cover under a cupboard.



As they sat there puffing and panting, trying to get
their breath back Jed started to sniff around. "Hey,
look what I've found" he squeaked, he was jumping


up and down with excitement. Someone had spilt a 
handful of sugar coated cereal by the cupboard door 
and it hadn't been swept up yet. The three little mice 
thought they were in heaven, this was what they had 
been hoping for, they ate and ate until they felt sick. 
Then they wriggled under the cupboard and fell fast 
asleep.

Procrastination

My response to this weeks writing challenge.

She sits at her desk, a coffee in front of her, beside it screen is her phone. Her laptop open but ignored as she slowly strokes the leaves on the money plant.

Ironic really, she had a deadline for the article, it has to be submitted today but her mind is blank.

She can usually turn out an article in a few short hours but she's been struggling with this topic all week now and all that she has typed is the title word.

She drinks her coffee, puts a few drops of plant food in the pot holding her money plant and twirls her phone round, still nothing.

She visits the ladies room, looks out the window to check the weather and then returns to her desk.

She reorganises her desk drawer and the pot that holds her pens and pencils, but still her mind is blank.

Who'd have thought it would be so difficult to write an article about procrastination.

Faggots

I can see them from my window and I shudder.

I try to ignore them and focus on the wildlife but it's no good, my eyes are drawn back time and time again.

I think I'll have to move on, the fear is really affecting me.

Every time I walk past I'm convinced I can smell burning. The fear gets stronger.

I will definitely have to move soon, that's the good thing about living on a boat, if you don't like your neighbours or the area, just move.

It's a shame, I like it here, it's quiet and conveniently placed but I'm too scared to sleep and waking in a panic in the night.

There is a huge bonfire being built in a nearby field, that doesn't bother me. It's just a pile of rubbish, stuff that will burn.

But this, this scares me, if I get too close I swear I can smell burning, I can feel the heat.

They don't burn witches nowadays, but they used to, or at least that was the excuse. Most of us weren't witches, we were just too old, a bit strange, too inconvenient.

It's the neatness of the branches, they remind me of the faggots, lined up, stacked almost upright around the stake. This is not a normal bonfire. This could have been stacked by someone who burned witches in their previous life.

Clairvoyant

The feeling was subtle at first like a cold breath on the back of her neck.
She shivered, next came the prickling across her scalp.
She tried to ignore the signs and gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white.
There were bends in the road but the day was clear and bright.
In her dreams the accident happened in a blizzard, everywhere was white.
It was just a dream she told herself but it had terrified her.
Sweat broke out across her top lip, she slowed her speed slightly but kept on driving.
She'd not traveled this route before but the road looked familiar.
She breathed steadily trying to control had rising panic.
It was no good, she couldn't carry on.
She checked her mirrors and changed lane, she pulled up into a layby.
As she did so the tanker coming towards her lost control. It turned on its side and split open with the force of the impact.
Everything went white as gallon upon gallon of milk sprayed from the stricken lorry.
The car that had overtaken her hit the tanker and was almost sliced in half.
With trembling hands she phoned the emergency services, there was nothing else she could do.
She sat and sobbed, thankful for the dream that had given her warning of the accident.

Piano

She sat in the bar nursing a gin and tonic, it depended on the bar staff whether she was left in peace or asked to leave. Brendan was on duty tonight, he always let her stay.
 Brendan had the most beautiful brown eyes, the sort of eyes you could drown in, he reminded her of Paul.

In the back room there was a piano, dusty and unused now, but when she was younger, she smiled at A
the reminisce.

Now she was a bag of bones, skinny and untidy but she was clean, she didn't smell despite what some of the bar staff claimed.

She'd always been tiny but had curves in all the right places, and wearing her red satin evening dress she had been so glamorous, a real stunner.

Back then Paul had played the piano, she sang, songs of love and longing, of loneliness and despair.

Sitting in the bar the years fell away as she hummed one of the old songs but all too soon her glass was empty and it was time to leave.

Out in to the cold leaving her memories of Paul behind, they'd had a few happy years until a bomb had dropped near their lodgings killing Paul. Leaving her a sad and lonely widow.

Mistake

What a stupid mistake to make thought Annabelle ruefully.

She should have known better than to trust anything her Uncle Jim told her.

The rest of the family said he was a bit touched in the head, a bit simple.

Joe himself claimed to be a changeling, swapped at birth  by fairies who wanted a human child.

Either way Annabelle had been stupid to trust him.

He'd sworn the book had been given to him by a fairy but he'd probably found it in some junk shop somewhere.

But Annabelle was desperate, pale skin and red hair was not a fashionable look, blonde and tanned was, and that's what the recipe book promised.

She collected all the leaves and flowers listed in the recipe, added the stagnant water and pond slime and mixed up the awful smelling ingredients, she was almost gagging at the stench.

She was greatly relieved that she didn't have to drink the stuff but only had to apply it to her hair and skin.

Annabelle stayed hidden in the garden shed once she'd covered herself in the foul smelling gunk, she didn't dare go near the house in case her mum saw her.

Once the prescribed three hour wait was up Annabelle walked back across the garden and into the house, mum and dad were at work and her sisters were at school.

She ran upstairs and into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped under the warm water.

The stuff gradually washed away but it wasn't until Annabelle rinsed the soap out of her eyes that the full horror was revealed.

She was green, green from head to toe, including her hair.

Human error

As she waited to be called, her thoughts drifted back to her job, the one she should have been doing instead of being here. 

She was on the late shift today so they wouldn't be wondering where she was. They weren't a nice company to work for, the staff were poorly paid and generally treated badly. Any till shortages were taken out of their wages at the end of the week. She'd soon realised that the other staff members tallied up at the end of each day and and extra was stashed against future shortages. Not taken off site as that would be stealing but everyone had their preferred hiding place.

She was still struggling to understand how she'd ended up with £100 shortage, she was meticulously careful when taking the bets and handing out winnings. It was unlikely to be human error.

She shivered despite it being a mild spring day and despite the heat from the lights but she could also feel sweat trickling down her back, strange to be shivering and sweating at the same time. The Abba song Super Trooper kept running through her head. She knew it was the name of a theatre light but the lights she was under were smaller though still bright.

She was relieved that had given her a mask, it gave her at least the illusion of safety. Glancing around the room she could see a couple of people busily working and she noticed the room was spotlessly clean which made her feel better.

Someone spoke to her, "Are you ok Libby?", she nodded.
"Everybody ready?" "Then let's start".
There came a rush of instructions to put an arm here, a leg there, head up, head down. This went on for almost an hour, her muscles ached and she was parched but then it was over and she was free to leave clutching an envelope.

The following morning Libby returned to work, the envelope buried in the bottom of her bag. When everyone was busy with customers Libby took £100 out of the envelope and added it to her till, she breathed a sigh of relief, her till would now balance at the end of the week.

Whoever would have thought there was money to be mad just for dressing up as an old style school teacher complete with cap, cane and gown and nothing else but the mask.