Rat King

The city streets were narrow and choked with rats. They were big and bold and cared only for food. People said that if you stood still for long enough, the rats would try to eat your legs. That didn’t matter much to me—I had no plans of standing still while I was here.

I bumped into someone, apologized, and continued until I could turn a corner and duck into an alleyway. This city stank, but this alley stood with an even more putrid stench. Dead rats, probably. I checked the coin purse I’d lifted: gold! I hadn’t expected to score this quickly. From the looks of it, I would have guessed that the city and whoever lived here got by on scraps of bread.

This sudden wealth called for a change of plan. It was time to get out of this place. Time to head back to where green plants grew and nothing smelled like death.

I was nearing the outskirts when it started to rain. The roads, already terrible, turned into a sucking, squelching network of muddy rivers. There were no cobblestones, no boardwalks, and no way out except through the mud. I trudged along, weaving slowly through bogged-down carts.

I ducked to the side to get around a confusion of yelling workmen, horses and stuck carts, but I slipped and dove face-first into the mud. I scrabbled to my feet, turning from a human into a mud man as I struggled to find a footing. I checked for the purse, knowing it would be gone even before I stuck my muddy hands into my waistband to check.

I floundered around, trying to find the bag, but it was no use. I knew the gold would drop right to the bottom of the mud. I stood up, just as a cart lurched free and leapt forward. It crashed into my forehead, and I was sent sprawling. I could taste blood, and everything was going black. The rain picked up, lashing the mud into rivulets and jumping puddles. As I faded, I saw the rats swimming towards me.