Torn to Pieces
Title: Torn to Pieces
Fandom: Willard
Character: Willard
Rating: PG
Other: Written for the September 2nd contest (Cat) in 31_days. Not submitted, as I missed the deadline again. Well, what the hell.
Torn to Pieces
Willard didn’t want to enter the house.
He stood before the door, shifting warily from one leg to the other. “Will not, will not,” he thought. “Will not.” He knew what was inside, knew that there wouldn’t have been any hope for the animal. What would they have done? They would have used their teeth.
So many of them, and they all had teeth, they all knew how to use their teeth, and maybe even little claws, pitter patter scatter coming for you now, my friend.
“Willard?”
A jolt at the sound of her voice. Why hadn’t she left yet? Couldn’t she just let him be? It was bad enough that she had brought the animal here in the first place. He turned slowly, shaking but trying to keep her from seeing it. A brief wave would suffice, he decided, to assure her. He was right. A wave of his hand, a bit of a smile, and the woman walked away. She was, for the time being, satisfied.
He swallowed, almost choked on the cold air. Good that she was gone. He didn’t want to be alone, no, but he could handle this alone. She had only complicated things, anyway. Hadn’t she brought the cat over in the first place? He’d told her no, but she’d forced it onto him. And so he’d left the cat inside, and now the cat would be gone.
A brief moment, and then he began to turn toward the door again, fixed his eyes on the handle. There was no use waiting. After all, they’d leave him alone. And Socrates was in there. He wanted to say hello to Socrates, to be certain that he, at least, was all right. That the cat hadn’t done anything before--
Teeth and claws and scattering pattering hello little mice so many and the predator is hunted now no way of escape never don’t bother we’ve got you too many to refuse and pitter coming closer tearing gnashing teeth all over….
“Will not!” He hissed the words this time, but it was of no use. Standing outside only made him more of a fool, showed him to be a coward, maybe. The air was cold. He would catch a cold. No, this was very foolish.
Shutting his eyes, Willard breathed deeply once more. “It can’t be worse than last time.” That was true. He opened his eyes, grabbed the doorknob, and shoved the door open.
Yes, there were the rats, all pattering about peacefully. Many paid no mind as he stepped inside, as he swept his eyes over the entryway. Rats everywhere, and somewhere, he was certain, the already well-picked bones of the woman’s cat awaited disposal.
Why couldn’t she have listened to him? Now the cat had been torn to pieces, too.
Fandom: Willard
Character: Willard
Rating: PG
Other: Written for the September 2nd contest (Cat) in 31_days. Not submitted, as I missed the deadline again. Well, what the hell.
Torn to Pieces
Willard didn’t want to enter the house.
He stood before the door, shifting warily from one leg to the other. “Will not, will not,” he thought. “Will not.” He knew what was inside, knew that there wouldn’t have been any hope for the animal. What would they have done? They would have used their teeth.
So many of them, and they all had teeth, they all knew how to use their teeth, and maybe even little claws, pitter patter scatter coming for you now, my friend.
“Willard?”
A jolt at the sound of her voice. Why hadn’t she left yet? Couldn’t she just let him be? It was bad enough that she had brought the animal here in the first place. He turned slowly, shaking but trying to keep her from seeing it. A brief wave would suffice, he decided, to assure her. He was right. A wave of his hand, a bit of a smile, and the woman walked away. She was, for the time being, satisfied.
He swallowed, almost choked on the cold air. Good that she was gone. He didn’t want to be alone, no, but he could handle this alone. She had only complicated things, anyway. Hadn’t she brought the cat over in the first place? He’d told her no, but she’d forced it onto him. And so he’d left the cat inside, and now the cat would be gone.
A brief moment, and then he began to turn toward the door again, fixed his eyes on the handle. There was no use waiting. After all, they’d leave him alone. And Socrates was in there. He wanted to say hello to Socrates, to be certain that he, at least, was all right. That the cat hadn’t done anything before--
Teeth and claws and scattering pattering hello little mice so many and the predator is hunted now no way of escape never don’t bother we’ve got you too many to refuse and pitter coming closer tearing gnashing teeth all over….
“Will not!” He hissed the words this time, but it was of no use. Standing outside only made him more of a fool, showed him to be a coward, maybe. The air was cold. He would catch a cold. No, this was very foolish.
Shutting his eyes, Willard breathed deeply once more. “It can’t be worse than last time.” That was true. He opened his eyes, grabbed the doorknob, and shoved the door open.
Yes, there were the rats, all pattering about peacefully. Many paid no mind as he stepped inside, as he swept his eyes over the entryway. Rats everywhere, and somewhere, he was certain, the already well-picked bones of the woman’s cat awaited disposal.
Why couldn’t she have listened to him? Now the cat had been torn to pieces, too.