Winston (standard:fantasy, 1102 words)
Author: Joe Edwardson	Added: Feb 24 2002	Views/Reads: 3432/2192	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
An old suicidal mouse takes his last walk from under the couch and comes to grip with his past.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

mind.  He didn’t expect this mental hurricane to play a game of 
tug-o-war with him.  Winston droops his head down, allowing his slow 
motion eyes to gaze upon the red, white, and blue speckled carpet, half 
expecting to see the stomach turning blood stain that last put him in 
his current frame of mind, and was only finally cleaned up last year. 

Winston thinks to himself, “My Sylvester wouldn’t have chosen this end
for me, that is true.  My dearly departed Violet would be horrified by 
my actions.  What can I possibly do?” 

“Lorraine, turn the damn heater down!  I thought I told you to keep it
turned low!”  The familiarly angry sound of Mr. Parker’s howl never 
ceased to send a shiver up Winston’s spine.  It’s especially so now 
that he stands in the middle of the battleground.  The vibrations of 
heavy footsteps join the shivers inside the feeble body of Winston the 
mouse as Mr. Parker stomps his way through his domain. 

“Winston, you must hide!  For the love of God!” screams Yuri. 

“I’ve failed.  I can’t do what needs be done.  It’s over,” thinks
Winston. 

“We better not be out of peaches or I swear to God I’ll do something
I’ll regret,” bellow’s Mr. Parker. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I left them in the car. I’ll go get them,” Mrs.
Parker frenetically replies from the kitchen. 

“Winston!” Yuri pleads for the last time. 

The repressed sniffles from little Tommy Parker can still be heard; the
sounds drill into the floppy ears of Winston the mouse, coming together 
as a collage of miserable music.  He remembers the sweet voice of his 
young Sylvester. 

“I love you, daddy.” 

“Tell me more, daddy.” 

“Please read me a bedtime story.” 

“You’re the best.” 

“I want to be just like you when I get older.” 

“Where the hell did these goddamned mice come from?” The terrible voice
of Mr. Parker from two years past shatters his pleasant recollections. 

Winston’s face contorts into a twisted mesh of anger, grief, and hope as
he brings his head up, swiftly searches the room with his commanding 
eyes, and looks towards Yuri, whose expressions range from disheartened 
to joyous to horror-struck all in under a second.  Winston doesn’t 
allow himself to be confused for too long before he makes to scamper 
under the entertainment set, but he doesn’t make it.  A thunderous 
crash is felt deeply within the ears of the ancient gray mouse and the 
vibrations this time are too shocking to bear. 

Wise old Winston gazed up high for the final moments of his long
illustrious life, far beyond the horizon, and into the eyes of Mr. 
Parker.  But he didn’t waste his life’s final thought on the hateful, 
rather, on the beautiful everlasting image of his Sylvester.


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