“The house smelled musty and damp, and a little sweet, as if it were haunted by the ghosts of long-dead cookies.”― Neil Gaiman, American Gods
“Who are you?” the voice called to the shadow that moved towards them. He glanced around at the others but no one shared any knowledge. No one has come in here in years, one whispered into the dark.
The shadow came closer, a scurrying sound, it darted in front of them. Perhaps it had missed them. No one looked underneath cabinets, right? Yet, the shadow returned, this time it lowered itself under the cabinet, its eyes glinted in the dim light, its whiskers twitched. Then it darted towards them, snatching one of them in its fearsome jaws with a thunderous squeak. Not Fred! One of the breadcrumbs called out into the dark as the rat fled away.
“Oh God what was that!”
Then they heard a large, meeeeoooowww, followed by a scuffle. As the crumbs watched in horror, the rat was dropped in front of the cabinet, and Fred rolled unceremoniously from his mouth towards them. A large paw appeared pulling the rat from the cabinet and the thudded padding of footsteps announced the retreat of their saviour.
The crumbs returned to their quiet contemplation. Thank goodness for their cat.
Originally written in response to:
WQW – Smell.
RDP – Thunderous.