The Old Mill

I noticed two of them following me as I walked down the hall of the 4th floor of the old mill. They seemed innocent enough so I stopped and waited for them to scurry up to my boots. The first one got up on his hind legs, put his two little pink hands on the toe of my boot and pointed his nose up at me. The other didn’t even hesitate, he scurried over the top of my foot and continued on his way toward the stairwell. The first one finished his boot inquiry and then chased after his friend. I shouldn’t have followed. 

By the second floor there were hordes of mice following me, or I was following them. I couldn’t tell at this point. I did, however, notice their unusually aggressive behavior. It was unclear if they were climbing over eachother to get to me or the stairwell. Either way, a few mouse carcasses formed islands for the hordes to climb over and scurry around. 

“I did, however, notice their unusually aggressive behavior.”

When I realized it was them following me, it was too late. They were fast, but somehow my ability to keep moving prevented most of them from climbing my legs. It’s still unclear to me how my mouse horde and I ended up in that dimly lit basement. My escape options narrowed. In the end, my frantic choice to lock myself in that dusty closet was probably the nail in my coffin. I was oddly calm during those last moments while the mice hurled their bodies against the closet door. Bang. Bang bang. Bang. Bang bang. I looked down at my pants, they were torn apart from all the mice who had clawed their way up my leg. Just then, a crack formed at the base of the door where the horde’s pressure was enough to push one mutilated mouse body through. It didn’t matter, eight or nine live-mice were already in the closet with me. My final surrender was set after I felt their pointy little teeth gnawing at my raw skin. ..-anonymous 


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