by John Cox

Likes: 6
Words: 100

The secret of NIMH was ancient folklore. Mary said she didn't buy a word of it.

Sillyness abounded in the old city. The old ones -some of them claiming to be the ancients themselves- told tales of the the Lab, the Running, and dark sinister characters both human and rat alike.

Well, "I will hear none of it! You have your work. Think of it you hear!" Mary was stern and pointed a paw at the children for good measure.

"To bed now."

The day had become night. Mary pulled the glowing stone from a drawer and held it tight.

by Neviena Dēls

Likes: 5
Words: 100

When Elsie first saw the mice marching from beneath the stairs, she blamed hunger, fever, or grandmother's stories. Five tiny travelers carried cases, bundles, and impossible dignity across the floorboards.

She followed them quietly, past the kitchen light, past her mother's humming, until the smallest mouse paused beside a painted door no taller than her hand. It bowed, opened the latch, and warm firelight spilled across her toes. Elsie looked back once, then stepped through, leaving childhood waiting on the other side for whoever still believed magic required permission, and home required something braver than belief, alone in winter's silence.

by Jesse R Traynham - Author

Likes: 4
Words: 100

"I can't believe Great-Uncle Milton left us this house," Clarice said. "It's rather like a mansion!"

"It's a welcome change from our old life," said Mother.

"Um. Mother? I don't think we're alone here."

"That so?"

"Did Great-Uncle Milton's will say anything about another family living with us?"

"Maybe. Why do you ask?"

"A whole family of mice just scurried through the tiny door under the staircase."

"That would be the Crumbletons, dear. Uncle Milton knew them from his summer house. They became dear friends."

"So neat! I think I'm going to be great friends with their daughter."

by Eolas Pellor

Likes: 3
Words: 100

“I remember when we were mice,” mother said, as the small family — mother, father, and three children — crept through the door and made their way to the tiny door under the stairs.

I'd never noticed it before, and I watched them carry their bundles within. Inside, I caught a glimpse of a smaller version of our own rooms, with tiny chairs and tables. The mother mouse lit the small lamp before the father mouse closed the door.

“Were we really mice, Mummy?” my sister asked.

“Whenever someone moves to a new place, they start as mice,” Mother replied.

by Mary Zuelke Author

Likes: 2
Words: 100

“The Rodet’s are moving in today.” Mrs. French called from the Kitchen.

Amada sat on the steps, fingers clenched around the baluster as she watched the new neighbors trudging through the living room. “Mama… they’re here.”

Mrs. French hurried from the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron.

“Welcome! We’ve prepared your rooms. Amada’s growing, yet she squeezed in to sweep, dust, and fluffed the pillows.”

Mr. Rodet tipped his hat to Amada.

Mrs. Rodet tittered, her eyes bright. “Oh, it’s so lovely. Thank you, Mrs. French—Amanda. Please meet our younglings, there is Elmer first, then Emma, and Eldritch."