Perspective

I need to run. The fast metal things killed my brother. He’s back there, crushed on the hard ground. Humans everywhere. Everywhere. Nowhere to hide. So I run. I run close to the walls so the humans will not kill me.

One screams. Another has a stick. Pain. I get away. Cross the street. More metal things. I jump away, get over to the other side. A hole in the wall. I enter.

Am I safe? Different smells. Food. Humans. Hunger. I need food. Follow the smell. A bucket. Food. Meat. Vegetables. It’s even rotten. I eat. I see humans in a distance, but my hunger is greater than my fear. I keep eating.

Something cuts into my back. I turn. A human cut me. He lifts his hand. The sharp thing in his hand. I attack. Bite him. He screams. I run under a bench. Shouts. Humans running around.

A rat! It bit me!

Kill it! Kill it!

I’m trapped. I run for the door. The humans jump away in fear. They fear me. I don’t know why. I‘m running for the door. I’m doing it. I’m making it. Just a little bit further.

Teeth sink into my flesh, shake me, throw me into the air. I hit the ground. The wounds are deep. My neck feels strange. Broken. Last thing I see is the dog attacking a second time.

http://ratbehavior.org/perception.htm

https://anorthernnarrative.com/2017/04/23/i-blame-alfred-hitchcock/

Death to the Metal Monster