http://www.grantcast.com - A small work of holiday fiction about a small mouse on Christmas Eve.

TRANSCRIPT

Thomas Mouse on Christmas Eve By Grant Baciocco

Thomas Mouse brushed the last bits of cookie crumbs from his whiskers with his paws.  His nose twitched slightly as he did.  When he was certain he was now crumb free, he stood from the spool table and crossed to the door of his one room mouse hole.  He checked the lock, twice.  Always twice at night.  It was secure.  Confirming that it was indeed locked, he let out a little sigh.

His toes made tiny clicking noises as he scurried over to the small Christmas Tree he had set up in the corner.  Tree was not the right word.  Tip of a branch from a tree was more like it.  A small clipping of an evergreen that was just the right size for a mouse sized tree.  A single bulb on top, a red one he had found in the garage last spring, illuminated the room.  He had rigged together some wire and hooked it, carefully, into the main to get it to light.  Gingerly grabbing the rubber insulation of the wire that ran to the main, he lifted it off.  There was a small spark and the bulb shut off, the room thrown into darkness.  He stood still for a moment, until his eyes adjusted.  He was helped by the light from the night sky creeping into his window.  He set the wire on the floor and turned towards his bed.

Again his toes clicked against the concrete floor of his room as he made his way to his bed.  The bed, the cap of a spray paint can with cotton packed down inside of it, was warm and inviting .  After turning a few circles to make sure the cotton was to his liking, he lied down.  His head hung over the side of the cap as he looked out the window into the night sky.

At the top of the tiny window, one he had chewed himself when he moved in, he could see a tiny sliver of the moon, hanging in the sky like a smile.  He looked up at if for a good long while.  He looked at it for so long, he swore he saw it move slightly on its journey across the night sky.  His eyes started to droop as his body relaxed.  Just as his eyes were about to close for good that night he inhaled slightly.

“Merry Christmas, moon.”

His eyes closed and Thomas Mouse fell asleep.

Story ©2014 Grant Baciocco/Saturday Morning Media

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©2016 Saturday Morning Media/Grant Baciocco