The crumbling barn was quiet except for the rhythmic dripping of leftover rainwater from the storm hours earlier, falling from a hole in the ceiling onto the dirt and rubble below. There had clearly not been a human there for a long time now. The grass surrounding the abandoned structure had grown so tall that it covered the majority of what was left of the barn door entrance and there was no sign of any farm life present for some time. The area now belonged to the wildlife. As the sun rose and the day was beginning, the barn filled with light through the broken and decaying wood, its rays signaling that it was time for the world to wake up. 
​Crickets who had been chirping nearby ceased their song and disappeared into the grass outside. The birds, as if queued, fluttered out of the gaping holes towards the sky, knowing it was their turn to perform. Lizards and snakes came out of their hiding places and slithered through the cracks in the wood, following the crickets into the haze of green. A few cats popped their heads up from their little nests of debris and trash, simultaneously stretching their skinny bodies, pushing their backsides up to the sun, then their frontside. One spun around a bit to get comfortable and went back to sleep, the others hopped down and walked together out of a small, perfectly cat sized hole near their beds to find some breakfast. As everyone made their exits, a few tenants were returning from their outings: the bats swooped in from the same hole the birds had exited from minutes earlier, hooked themselves onto the wood ceiling panels and folded their wings up over their small torsos to rest their eyes and avoid the sun. Following right behind were a couple of barn owls, who glided in and perched themselves side by side on a bail of hay and went to sleep. 

​Once the chaos of the morning hustle had finished, all was quiet. Everything had returned to the stillness of a peaceful morning in the isolated barn. The rainwater continued to drip from the ceiling, slowing its pace due to the sun drying the roof. Nearby the small puddle that had formed was a thin, narrow tunnel leading into the earth to some kind of rodent’s home. A little nose appears at the surface of the burrow, sniffing the air to make sure the coast was clear. A young mouse creeped out into the interior of the barn and scurried over to the puddle, rubbing his miniscule, pink hands in the water and proceeded to clean his head and body right down to the tip of his tail, removing the layer of dirt to reveal an ash brown coat. Taking a few sips before shaking himself out like a dog, the mouse stood on his hind legs and darted his beady, black eyes to examine his surroundings. Once he had finished assessing the scene, he began to scurry through the maze of fallen wood panels, dead leaves and hay, taking second long breaks to catch his breath in the safety of the shadows from any predators. Reaching a chipped piece of wood in one of the walls, he stuck his head out of the opening and squeezed his fat torso through, tumbling out after forcing his way through. 

​The sun was shining brightly now, the mouse squinting his eyes as he stood before the wall of greenery. Taking a deep breath and plopping back down on all four legs, he took off in a flash, rushing into the unknown. He dashed through the grass, only able to see the spring green ahead of him, making sure not to leave a trail from where he had run and was running to. The field of grass was blinding and seemed endless, the mouse growing weary of his journey with no destination. He ran faster as he began to worry if he would be able to find his way back home to the barn, unaware of which direction he was traveling in or where he had come from.  After what seemed like an eternity to the petite rodent, the sunlit emerald world came to an immediate halt. At the edge of the wall of the overgrown weeds was a vast plain, full of various trees as far as the mouse’s teensy eye could see. Feeling exposed to the risks of the wild, he began to creep out from the shelter of all that he knew to explore a new landscape. 
​He traveled at a slow trot into the next environment, the jade colored grass prickling his feet with each step. Unsure what world he had stepped into, he began to pick up his pace and scurried over to the nearest tree to rest his head for just a moment. The tree towered over the insignificant presence, its roots alone almost three times the girth of the mouse, its branches extending towards the sun that was now at its peak and shining light on everything below. The pale colored leaves on the tree swayed in the breeze, tossing and turning the limbs every which way, causing a rocking chair-like creak to exit the trunk. The mouse, attempting to appear as just another root as he laid his head on the edge of the tree trunk, darted his eyes towards the sound, looking into the canopy overhead. The wind rustled the leaves, shifting the areas of what can and cannot be seen up above. He watched as a young squirrel scampered and lept around the town in the trees, collecting more and more of whatever nut was growing from the tree into its cheeks to bring home and munch on later. The mouse thought of what it would be like to live in the trees, leaping from treetop to treetop, unafraid of the dangerous world around them. The more he daydreamed, the less and less aware he was of his surroundings, not noticing far up above the squirrel, a large hawk staring intently at the brown speck below that could possibly become its lunch. The hawk let a menacing screech escape his beak, startling the mouse, who had curled up into a puff of fur for a quick nap. He jumped to his feet, forgetting where he was, not knowing where to run for cover. Looking towards the direction of the sound, the mouse finally noticed the glare of the hefty hawk, who was hopping from branch to branch, inching its way down towards the harmless victim. 

​Heart beating fast, the mouse quickly looked in every direction, beginning to panic about what could possibly get him out of this situation. All he could do was run for it. The mouse dashed towards the safety of the tall grass forest from whence he came, but it was too far for his short legs to reach it in time. Frightened beyond belief, he glanced over his shoulder to see if the hawk was coming after him. It was. The hawk’s wings were fully open, letting it glide through the air with minimal effort, weaving its body gracefully through the trees above. The mouse turned his head back to watch where he was going, a mere two to three feet away from entering the cloak of something familiar and comforting, galloping for what seemed like hours, until suddenly, he found himself galloping over the height of the field. The hawk had snatched him up in its talons before he could blink an eye. 

The mouse quit running and went limp. Why was this happening? He had never been to the tree he was kidnapped from, or the field that met an edge of the green smog; how did he happen to explore his way into what seemed to be his impending doom? He watched as everything he knew passed below him. The ginormous field that surrounded the decrepit barn looked so small from this height, an insignificant speck in a never ending sea of backcountry. All the mouse had known his entire life was the forest of weeds and grass, the rubble of the barn, and, just today, the open field of trees that made him worry about finding home again. That was the least of his worries, apparently. He thought of his burrow where he slept safely and peacefully the night before, the constant collection of water falling from the roof to create his miniature shower, and the continuous build up of more and more leaves, wood and hay to forever stay hidden and protected. He missed that old rundown farm.
The hawk’s talons tightened around the mouse’s torso, the claws beginning to pierce his belly. The strength of the hawk’s long, stiff fingers was beginning to smash the mouse’s sides closer and closer together, startling him when he felt a few ribs pop, passing out from the pain. 

When the mouse regained consciousness, he tried to lift his head, squealing at the sharp daggers tearing apart his innards. He saw that the hawk had landed on a very thick branch of the largest tree the mouse had ever seen towards the center of the trunk. The hawk had set him down thinking he had already died and was pecking at its feathers, eating any tasty snacks it found crawling around on itself before having its big dinner. He looked out into the distance, seeing the barn not too far from where the hawk had chosen. Now was the mouse’s chance. Using all of the power he had left in himself, he attempted to drag himself over towards the trunk. Maybe he could climb a tree? He had never given it much thought other than he figured mice were not tree living creatures. Reaching out to grab the trunk with his now blood stained paws, the immediate pain and pressure of attempting to hoist himself up to shimmy down was unbearable. The moment the mouse was to his feet, his puncture wounds began to bleed more and more as he fell from the height of the tree. The towering sculpture was becoming harder to see through the blood dripping into his eyes, warping the form of the limbs, branches and brightly colored leaves to look dark and hazy. The movement created by the breeze made the mouse see waves of bark and green before landing on the mossy floor below. 

The sun was now setting and it was getting dark very quickly. The mouse’s eyes flashed open, looking around very disoriented and frightened. It seems that the predator had forgotten all about the unfortunate soul and went on his way to find another prey. He did not need to look around to know he needed to get out of that area and head the direction of home. From where he saw the old barn while stuck on the branch and where he had fallen, he made the assumption that he needed to head straight, move as fast as he could home. 

Due to the mouse’s injuries, his scurry had been slowed down to a crawl. He traveled through the weeds, leaving a trail behind him from dragging his own tiny corpse, smashing the plants behind him, changing the color of spring into a dark crimson. The light of the moon seemed to shine directly on his path, guiding him to some kind of barren, dirt landscape. The mouse scraped along the rough dirt as he headed for the center of the long strip to look down the path. Looking straight ahead, he saw a golden hue shining at him moving past his home, the barn. He was so close! The pain subsided as he became more hopeful that he would be able to clean his wounds in his puddle, wash away the trauma he endured and let himself heal in his cozy, wonderful burrow, hidden away from all the dangers in life. The golden hue that was guiding him home seemed to morph into two small golden orbs, getting larger and larger, making the ground rumble. The mouse had never seen anything like this before! It seemed as though this large, glowing vessel was barreling towards him! Once again filled with dread, the mouse struggled with all of his might to attempt to get out of the mechanical beast’s way. He couldn’t. Looking into the golden eyes staring into his as its round, rubber foot sped directly towards him, he shut his eyes and accepted his fate. 

All that was left of the mouse was a tuft of flattened ash brown fur, creating a small bump on the dirt road.