A beheaded pig greets us as we enter our home. A Yule goat from the upper floor, dragged all over the house and pushed down the stairs, is lying lifelessly in the corridor.
A cow has met its end by drowning in a bowl in the kitchen.
Under the Christmas tree devoid of half of its decorations sits Albert and stares at us. We have been away. The whole day. He worked on his latest performance and is happy to present it for us.
The crown of his creation meets us when I throw my tired bottom on the sofa, landing it midst of a pile of wet mice and fluffy white hearts; all the red ribbons that they hung by meticulously pulled out and left aside
I wrote a short story that got published on Six Sentences site. Here it is, the whole of it:
The mouse tastes good. It is crunchy and sturdy and it can be chewed for hours without deterioration of that initial feeling of satisfaction. I do not understand why you keep on choosing paper instead; my newspaper, for example, every morning, always the very page I am reading. Yes, I did chew on your mouse and I did try the paper, I am not just saying! The mouse is much better, and I stand firmly behind that statement; I am actually willing to take a lie detector test if you do not believe me. Yes, we may have different preferences, but I can read and you can’t, so, please, let me read my newspaper in peace and go and chew on your mouse, or – learn how to read and then we can discuss this issue again.
Inspired by Maven.
Jelena wrote a short story about you’ll guess whom…