The official magazine of the Team Of Dreams
This month's theme: to be resilient
We want new and experienced authors to become more comfortable in their own skins as writers and poets. To this end, it is our mission to offer activities, education, an...
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Vincent trembled, whiskers and all, nervous under Marcus' black-eyed glare. "I—I don't have to if I don't want to," he stammered. He glanced around, watching the crowd of nestmates grow around them, not one face friendly enough to step in.
"Cowards don't make good nestmates, retard," Marcus sneered, pushing on Vincent's shoulder. Everything about the larger rat, down to his whipping tail, exuded malice.
Marcus was at least twice Vincent's size and dark gray in color. His nose, paws, and tail were pink, just the shade they were supposed to be. Vincent, on the other hand, had one paw, his right hind one, that was as gray as his fur. At least he had his brains going for him, even if being smart made him different and often misunderstood. He didn't give much thought to the matter; the difference was worth being excluded from most social things. Being miscolored, however, made him a target. About that, he cared very much.
He winced from Marcus' shove as he stumbled a step back, momentarily glad to be further from the bully's attention. "Don't use that word," he begged. "It isn't nice."
Marcus took a step forward, closing the gap again, and laughed. "Which word, coward or retard?"
"The r-word," Vincent insisted, avoiding the bigger rat's gaze.
"Why do you care? Are you a retard?"
"There's nothing wrong with being challenged—"
"Blagh, blagh, blagh," Marcus taunted. "Spare me." He glanced around, making sure he was the center of attention, before smiling smugly at Vincent. "If you're not slow, then you must be a coward," he taunted.
Vincent's eyes grew wide. "What? No! I'm no coward!"
"Then take," Marcus spat, stabbing Vincent with his finger, "a step," stab, "into", stab, "the light." Marcus shoved Vincent hard enough to send the young rat sprawling.
Vincent squealed and skittered away from the nearby sunbeam flowing through the Barn's haphazard roof. Sunshine is death. Stick to the shadows. Every rat knew this, the knowledge drilled into them from birth. But, it was said that truly brave rodents could walk into the light and not go up in flames... at least for several seconds.
Marcus threw his head back and laughed, his great belly jiggling with the effort. "See?" he pointed at Vincent as he played to the snickering crowd. "This is how a coward behaves!" The crowd tittered in response, murmuring about sunshine and bravery, of the lack thereof, behind their hands. Emboldened by their support, Marcus' back paw connected with Vincent's side.
Vincent curled into a ball as Marcus continued to kick him, doing the best he could to protect himself from the onslaught. He didn't dare fight back. Marcus' father, Shaemus, was a Council Elder, second only to the head of a Council that could make life very bad for Vincent's parents. His own father, William, was already on Shaemus' shit list for running against him in the last election. Even the smallest infraction would bring his father, and his family, before the Council for "correction."
