Rat Stew
Meals were haphazard. Life was haphazard really, we’d pretty much moved into the basement by November. The summer had been full of dandelion salads. Blackberries and apples warmed by the autumn sun had just run out.
Our cat, Lucky, saw to herself and always had. Our neighbours, long gone now, had eaten their pets. We hadn’t: she brought us the occasional rat and was another warm thing to snuggle up next to at night. Besides, we had hope for Christmas. Hope was essential in these unprecedented times. We were looking forward to having her as part of our feast then.
- Category: Dystopian Fiction
2 comments add one below
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Neville Hunt 6 months ago
Rat stew touches a nerve with me. At university up north, my housemate was a biochemistry student. He did a lot of dissecting. He often brought his work home. Having previously enjoyed interesting stews, when the huge white lab rat arrived, we both hesitated... probably due to the bad rep those highly resourceful creatures had. Rat stew would not be on the menu that night. (But it wouldn’t be wasted as it became my girlfriend’s (now wife) beautiful ratskin purse after I had been quite resourceful myself. Strangely it disappeared long ago🥴)
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Lisa Williams 6 months ago
Oh my goodness! Fab stories xx
