Two short stories:

I.

When you lived in a town where there was only one television channel, and you lived in a house whose matriarch believed the devil was in tattoos and Halloween was “All Hallows’ Eve;” where souls have not yet reached heaven. It was our duty (not mine specifically) to light candles to guide the post souls to the heavens to avoid purgatory-ways and actions.

“If you give people enough time and reason, they will do the deeds of the devil, and out there, they kill cats for fun,” as Annie said.

You are only permitted to watch one show: Dr. Quinn Medicine woman.

And do not think you can detour from it – “The devil is in everything else”.

You better get a keen interest in the 1800s rugged rural ways, Dr. Quinn’s love interest, the horses galloping at one straight-away speed as Dr. Quinn jumps off her horse to save the old woman lying in the dirt ground –

Or not, it doesn’t matter.

That’s your only choice if you like it or not.

It was a fine show.

II.

I walked down the stairs and into the laundry room. My laundry basket full, I was happy to be alone in the house for the entire weekend. Maybe not entirely but until Sunday afternoon at least.

I began to sort and I moved some clothes to make room. I lifted a towel and a mouse slumbered underneath. I yelled. It slept, quiet and still.

I leaned in closer and saw its little chest rise.

“It’s the mouse.”

The mouse that I saw at the corner of my eye last night watching Dr. Quinn. I was lying on the floor watching the one show I was allotted, and a little creature ran against the sideboard of the wall. I stood up and it ran faster. It darted into the laundry room.

I went upstairs and said, “I think we have a mouse.”

“We have traps,” Annie said.

“It went into the laundry room.”

“Do you see where it went?”

“In the laundry room.”

“Where in the laundry room?”

I walked into the room and stretched my arm as far as I could and picked up a couple pieces of clothing, holding them in the air for a couple seconds, wide-eyed peering. As if my eyes could see anything the wider they got.

“I don’t see it.”

“That’s why we have traps.”

“Okay.” I did not leave my clothes there, on the floor. Knowing fully there could be mouse droppings.

I stood there that morning, by myself as it slept soundly. I laid the towels gently over the mouse and tried to think.

What happens if it wakes up?

I ran upstairs and down the hall into Justin’s room. My eyes surveyed his room quick. The rock. I reached down and picked up the rock nearly 10 pounds, big enough I had to hold it with two hands.

I ran back downstairs.

I stood over the towel with the tiny lump, moving so subtlely.  I bent over holding the rock near me.

I hovered for a little longer; the rock suspended over the breathing lump. I dropped the rock. I dropped the rock right on top.

I yelled and felt a quiver go through my body. I shook my hands out and ran upstairs as fast as I could.

I paced the floor. Oh God, and shook my hands some more. I guess I won’t be doing the laundry.

I felt so bad and yet – What if it was to wake up? Then what? I stayed away as far as I could.

I told Annie when she and the kids got home.

Justin ran downstairs, “It’s still here. It’s dead.” He then took care of the mess.

He ran back up and walked past me, “See, Tess, I knew the rock would come in handy.”

Later that night we heard a trap snap. And a bounce, and a bounce, and a bounce right back!

The bouncing kept up. The sound of wood and the noise of the trap snap minute-after-minute. Some thirty seconds went silent, and then snap! We jolted, each of us bounced up.

Minute-after-minute, twenty minutes we listened to the snaps hitting the floor one-after-the-other. The mouse fighting for its life.

In time, the snaps got quieter and quieter, like footsteps walking away down the hall, a hush filled the room.

Snap!

All of us standing on the downstairs steps.

“I want to see,” Justin said and walked down past Annie.

Annie, Sarah, and I followed – Sarah and I stood back.

“It’s gone,” Justin said. “I think it bounced into the hole in the wall. Let me see.” He got down on his knees. “I can’t see.”

I stepped into the cove and I didn’t see the mouse or the trap, or any missing part. Poof, gone, into the wall.

“Oh well,” said Justin.

“Are we just going to let it die in the wall?” I asked.

Annie shrugged. “We will wait and see if we smell anything in the morning,” Annie said with a grin and started to walk back upstairs.

We all followed. I lingered looking at the hole in the wall. Ghostly.

A few minutes went by and “Snap!”

“I think we have a family,” Annie said.

“And one with its head stuck in the trap, “ Justin said.

Two stories – true to what I can remember. The absurd. Playing with words. Till next time.

Much love. Take care of you and you and you and you.