Tarot Tales 4, The Magician
How self-confident words can rewrite a story. #58 of the 100 Story Challenge.
Something was tickling my arm and I awakened with a start. Whatever it was made nibbling sounds and pulled on the restraints. I couldn’t help it — I screamed and thrashed.
The chewing halted, and something crawled up my arm. It peeked from under the covers just inches from my chin. I recognized the perky ears, bright eyes, and whiskers as belonging to a rat. It looked friendly. And I wasn’t in pain. I didn’t smell blood, so it hadn’t hurt me.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
The rat sniffed at me and did an about-face to return to its task. Soon, I had one arm free.
“Thank you,” I said as I freed myself from the covers.
It sat on its haunches, and I thought it was about to speak. But then it looked toward the open window across the room. An owl perched on the sill hooted, and the rat scampered off the bed and went out of sight.
On a hunch, I rearranged the covers and focused on faking sleep. The door opened, spilling light from the hall that I sensed through my eyelids. Shuffling steps accompanied grumbly comments.
“Dern eminals so noisy wake the patient…”
