Flash Fiction Friday: The Mission
An open door.
Two women carried a piece of worn furniture through the front entrance and left it open. This was my chance!
I slipped in the house, unnoticed, the remnants of a chilled, rainy day behind me. My body squeezed into position between the wall and sofa. Then I waited. Quiet. Still. The television blared, music from a cartoon filtered through the air, the giggle of a child as she ran through the living room. The door slammed shut. Warmth.
Minutes passed as the women talked. Discussions of packing and travels and visits with family. Impatience gnawed at my belly. How much longer could they go on like this? I needed out. Now.
Fast as a flash, I slid from my hiding spot, across the entrance pad, around the corner. A scream. One of the women had seen me. Drat! Both of them yelped, a sad garbled noise so often uttered whenever I came near. The shorter of the two was armed with a roll of wrapping paper. What good would that do? I needed a new plan.
Again, I ran. With a shimmy behind a tall pile of boxes, I fell against the wall, my body still once more. A quick peek through the cracks showed the room beside me filled with even more boxes. This must be moving day, which would’ve worked well for me… if I hadn’t been spotted. How to shake these two ladies? They had me cornered and weren’t about to give up.
Dash! I sprinted from the shadows, this time headed to the closet in the dining room. Had they seen me? Had I gotten away? A squawk and a yell, a pound on the door. They had definitely watched my departure.
I looked left and right in the darkened space, a clue to anything that could be of help, that could aid in my escape. Nothing. Everything had been packed, and now I was trapped by a couple of females with tupperware and gift paper. Not how I’d planned my day.
Ok, I had to give this one more shot. If I could just make it to the kitchen, I might have a chance.
My head poked from beneath the door. They stood above me, crouched, ready. I pulled back. I could do this, I just needed to believe. I looked again. They were still there. Could it be possible they would spend all day long in this one position? Maybe. It was now or never; I needed to be free.
I fled my concealed space, sped right between their legs. Slam! A piece of plastic came down around me, two large hands that held it in place. Oh great. Definitely not how I’d envisioned this journey to end.
“All right little guy. We caught you. Settle down so we can get you back outside.”
Foiled again. A mouse with a mission, stopped short of my final destination. I’d get there next time. There was always next time.
©Laura L. Zimmerman