Late Night Recipe
Who is the rat under the mask? A fierce mouse could bruise him.
Yet the weight of a collapsing mountain couldn’t ruin his clever scheming this night.
A swift cliché launches like a kiss from his hooting nemesis, awakening hidden light, glowing like two orbs in his clay like form.
The rat races, drinking in rhythmic melodies which ring out from hidden keys worn inside the jackets of unkempt jackals, about to lose their snack.
A mouse runs to his aid, flailing his arms and dancing like bees on a drum in a vessel of earth in attempts to escape a trite dungeons musk.
He waves frantically, but the impulsive gesture only ruins his shoes as he trips to his aid, landing in mud.
He’s too late.
The rat has flown away beneath the wings of a tall owl who is ready to play his dirge on a dinner lute.
End.
Note: This is just me messing with slant rhymes within story telling, which is why it’s so short. I was curious how long I could sustain it… hoping I can rely on the skill (with a few helpful daily drills) subconsciously down the road.
Copyright © 2021 by Matt Antis. Originally published in Short Story Society on January 4, 2021, by Ink Jot Kingdom.
