The Alley
he rat scurried amongst the putrid refuse lying on the dark alleyway. The night was a humid mess of
warmth and sweat. Scampering from one pile of decomposing waste to another, it had its pick of
meals tonight. The alleyway lay behind a fancy restaurant whose cooks were often less than cautious
about the way they disposed of the leftovers. The garbage was left strewn about the dank alley.
They didn't care. The garbagemen didn't care. The few homeless bums who passed through and
called this place home didn't care. The rotten stink, mixed with the sounds of laugther and
debauchery from within hung briefly in the air, to be blown away quickly by a swift, hot gasp of
wind.
The rat shivered.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
No such luck. The thing straightened itself after a minute of belching and groaning. Unsteadily, it began to walk further into the alley. After every few steps, the man-thing would stop and repeat its ritual of sickening noises. The rat wondered what it could be doing.
The alley was long, and dark. The only light came from a fading lamp hung in front of the restaurant's backdoor. Its yellowish cast did little to alleviate the heavy darkness that clouded most of the alley. This did not seem to deter the man-thing however, as it continued on its stumbling, falling and throwing-up journey down the alley. The rat looked on quietly.
Suddenly, the rat sensed another presence in the alleyway. The man-things have a distinct aroma, almost nauseatingly sweet in their odor. This one smelt.....different. The man-thing aroma was there, yet there was something else. Mingled with the usual scent was something more......animal-like. As if the new presence was more than just man.
There! Out of the shadows! The rat saw a figure seemingly detach itself from the wall next to the stumbling man-thing. With amazing swiftness, the new creature clutched the other, pulling it forward and snapping its head back at the same time. Within moments, they were locked in an tight embrace, so close as to be one. The first man's mouth was open. It was almost as though he were screaming.
But there was no sound coming from him. No shriek of joy or terror. The whole affair was silent save for the almost imperceptible drip, drip, drip of something falling on the pavement. The rat watched intently, still behind the trashcan, fascinated by this man-thing ritual.
Almost as suddenly as it began, it was over. The second man released the first, who slumped to the floor. No more than a minute had passed. No words had been uttered. No sounds had been made. The erect one stood over his laying companion for a second, and then turned away, walking silently into the darkness. His long, black cape barely brushing the ground.
The rat came out from behind his hiding place. Scampering over, feeling braver (and more foolish) than he should be, the rat sniffed cautiously at the still figure. The man-thing neither moved nor twitched at the rat's bold touch. The smell of alcohol-laced blood stained the air, dripping slowly from a ragged wound just below the man-thing's silently screaming mouth. The rat nibbled cautiously at the ripped flesh, lapping the still-warm blood and tasting the exhilarating flavor of freshly killed meat.
The humid, warm wind blew again.
Perched on his new feast, the rat looked upward, just in time to catch a glimspe of a bat, gliding softly aloft the warm summer air.
