A place where pictures come to life in short stories. The art and writings of Scott H.
The Rat King was fat and feared. He ruled a colony of mice, well a few families of mice. The mice feared the King. He had red beady eyes, sharp teeth and a wicked long tail. The King would sit in his throne and demand food to be brought to him.
“Peepers!” shouted the King as high pitched as he could.
Peepers came running in, “Y-yy-yess sir King?” he squeaked.
“Where is all the food!”
“The large ones have left sire, we are having problems finding food.” Peepers squeaked in fear.
“THAT IS A LIE!” squealed the Rat King. Spit flew out of his mouth and the King lifted himself up as much as he could.
The King thought about what Peepers said. “Peepers, go fetch Squirks.” Squirks came in with his head down avoiding the eyes of the King.
“Ahhh, Squirks come closer.”
Squirks got closer to the King. He started shaking as he could feel the breath of the King on him.
The King came down and grabbed Squirks and bit his right ear right off. Squirks gave a loud squeal in pain. “NOW! GO GET ME FOOD!” Demanded the King. He threw Squirks to the ground, the King had blood running down his jaw.
Peepers ran towards Squirks and held his ear with his paw and hurried him out of the room.
The mice gathered together to decide what to do. “We should leave!” shouted one. “No one has ever left and lived!” shouted another in fear. “We don’t know that!” said another. There was a lot of squeaking.
Peepers spoke up, “We must leave. There is no food. The King so big now to do anything on his own, he will never get us. Let’s go!” Shouted Peepers.
A few cheered, others shook in fear. But they didn’t know the King could hear through the thin walls. He didn’t like what he had heard. He struggled to get off his throne, eventually he rolled off. His weak and fat body slugged across the floor as he used his paws to scrape the floor to pull him towards the other room.
The mice in the other room were busy preparing to leave and didn’t notice the Rat Kings head making its way in the entry. The King got more and more through the entryway. A look of astonishment on the mice glared at him. Many have never seen the King before.
The King got up on his hind legs to stand tall and mighty. “You dare leave me!” he said and then fell right over on his side, unable to support his heaviness. The mice laughed at their broken King.
The King unable to move, was only able to watch the mice leave him.
Ever wanted to be in a special group? Well Brady did and he got a letter to be in the Raven Eye Brotherhood.
Brady’s town was small and the R.E.B. was a very secret group that wore funny masks. No one really knew what they did together but no one ever knew who was a member either, it was all speculation and rumors.
Brady put his hoodie on to stay warm and his mittens on to keep has hand warm and walked in the cold dusk. He had a few turns to take. He looked back every now and then to make sure he wasn’t being followed. In the distance was the house, number 308. He knocked and a long skinny man answered the door. “Brady!, my name is Jared. We better hurry, we are running late.” Jared grabbed his coat and his backpack closed the front door.
“Isn’t the meeting here?” Brady questioned.
“No, we have to get deep into the woods.”
“Really?” Brady questioned again but this time Jared didn’t answer.
They walked into the trees that were near his home and made lefts and right and lefts and soon Brady thought he was lost. Luckily it was flat terrain and made the getting lost part easier on the body.
Jared spoke up, “I think this is good, you ready Brady?”
“Yes, very” Brady replied—anxiously to get this meeting over with.
Jared pulled out his backpack and revealed a huge mask. He handed it to Brady and he pulled another one out for him. It looked like a giant birds beak. “I made that one for you, it should fit.” Brady put it on and it did fit. He felt weird. Jared then put his on. In a muffled voice, “Now jump, after I countdown from 3, ready?” Brady nodded.
“3 - 2 - 1”
They both jumped and when they hit the ground, the trees surrounding them disappeared leaving a nice camping area with a blazing fire in the center. The rest of the members were around it wearing their masks. There were about four others.
“Finally you guys show up!” Shouted one and shot a tiny blue streak at Jared shocking him.
“Alright, stop messing around, lets get started.” Jared spoke up. “This is Brady, he has been chosen to be our newest member.”
They all came and shook Brady’s hand and congratulated him. “Now Brady, this membership is top secret. We have powers, if you haven’t noticed. It comes from the masks we wear. Each mask has a different power and only one power.”
“How does a power get into the mask for a wearer to use it?” Brady asked.
“We have an ancient ritual we do for the mask, other than that its pure magic.” Jared responded.
“Your mask should make you see very far and zooming into tiny flies.” Jared said.
Brady tried just that, he look out into the distance and he could spot little bugs flying and see their individual wings. “Very cool” he said.
“So whats the point of the group?” Brady questioned as he looked around his surroundings.
“We use our powers to fight, we aren’t technically on earth anymore, but another dimension. A space between space. We jumped into it with our masks. Here in this dimension are individuals that want to come to our dimension and exploit it. We protect that from happening. This group is very old.”
“Why so few of us then?” Brady asked.
“We just lost a few in a mission so we are recruiting again. We can’t just recruit anyone either.”
Brady nodded, he sat down and tried to take his mask off. But there was no back to it, it was no mask at least as far as he could tell. He pulled really hard and it only hurt as it felt like his face was being pulled off. “Why cant I take this off?!” He shouted.
“We cant; in this dimension, it’s who we are.”
That’s when Brady realized when he talked, his beak was moving. It wasn’t muffled by a mask. It really was his face. “Woah!” Brady shouted. The others liked the amusement as they watched Brady.
“This was a quick meeting tonight, we need to meet in two days and prepare our next attack.” Jared said, the others nodded in agreement.
They all got up and even Brady stood up and they counted down to 3 and jumped. They flashed back into their dimension. They came out closer to homes. Jared took his mask off and shoved it in his backpack.
Brady tried to do the same but his mask wasn’t coming off. Jared came over to help and pulled hard. But no go. The mask seemed to be melded onto his skin as well as the designs from the mask.
“Well this is interesting.” Jared exclaimed.
“Get it off!” Shouted Brady.
“I can’t, it seems like the mask has chosen you and won’t let go. Here put this backpack over your head. I can take you to my house until we figure this out.”
Mr. Torris was a researcher of different cultures and discovered an island off the mainland of Africa. He immediately set sails to the island.
He ran into this native (picture above) who went by the name of Bub. The language barrier was great so using hands, noises and acting seemed to be the best form of communication.
Bub showed Mr. Torris his small group of people. They were all wearing similar clothing. They all spoke softly and with direct eye contact. Bub seemed to be the leader of the group.
After a few weeks of stay Mr. Torris decided it was time to leave. As he tried to get on his boat, Bub gestured for him to stop.
"Bub, it’s time for me to go" he said. Bub spoke and pointed back at the island. "No, I must get home." He pushed Bub out of his way to get to his boat. Bub gave a loud whistle and more of his people came towards the two.
Mr. Torris did not understand what was going on. He spent weeks with these people and had not problems until now. The small group rushed to him and pointed their walking spears at Mr. Torris.
Mr. Torris shocked, put his hands in the air and did what he was told. They brought him back to their village. That night they had a big fire blazing. They chanted and sang loudly. Mr. Torris was roped onto a log.
Bub put his hands in the air and the chanting and singing stopped. Bub spoke. They got the log and put it on the huge fire. Mr Torris screamed in burning pain. It went on for ten minutes or so.
When it was over the chanting and singing started again.
Legend has it, the skull on Bub’s stick is Mr. Torris.
"The Bird!" yelled the old hag who sat from her rocker on her porch. She suffered from dementia, well that’s what people would say on her block.
"You ate him! You ate my husband!" She screamed at it. Spit flew from her mouth in dark bitter rage.
The bird on the branch sat and watched her fury unleash. It was his usual routine. He liked to pester the lady, “Squaaaaaaaack” he replied.
"How dare you! You come here to finish me off?!" Her rage turned into a monstrous scene. She got up from her rocking chair as best she could. Hunched over, walking carefully to the bird, she shook the tree. She was weak and could barely make the tree shake.
"SQUuuuuuuuuuuuuaaaaacK!" the bird shouted at her.
She shook and shook and shook. “Get down! Get down and fight me!” The bird had enough and flew away.
"Good riddance!" She shouted at the bird, in his departure.
She walked slowly back to her rocker but tripped over her feet and never got back up.