Fitting In

He had walked alone for too long.

At the end of his life, it never emerged as a thought that flashed before his eyes as he recalled his existence just before crossing the bar.

There were no parents in sight, no bright light to guide the way, and a profound sense of not belonging lingered in the air. Her eyes shut, and darkness enveloped her. At that moment, an intense heat enveloped him, accompanied by an insatiable thirst that he had never experienced before.

Unbeknownst to them, the only problem lay in the fact that they had crossed the bar and found themselves lost. The sensation of being lost enveloped one in a dreadful and terrifying embrace, a plight that no soul would ever desire to encounter.

In a place unforeseen, the observer witnessed coal workers, drone bees, and industrious ants, all bustling about like miniature, vibrant cities. Each entity moved with purpose, seemingly aware of their destinies, yet without the guidance of a master.

Being overlooked was an unfamiliar experience. He looked around and wondered how he had arrived, for it seemed that nobody had met him or anticipated his coming, from what he could tell.

Yet, the realization dawned that the speaker had erred. They turned due to a movement at the corner of their eye, and as they did, an unknown object struck them, knocking them to the ground.

A swarm of black flying monkeys, their red eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity, darted through the air with an impish agility. The majority of the impact was absorbed in his torso. As he hit the ground, rats crawled across his face, beginning to chew on his nose. Their eyes, too, were a striking shade of red.

Before she could reach up to slap the disgusting rodent away, another pack landed on her hands and began chewing and licking her hands. Specifically, the fingertips of the individual. It resembled a young calf seeking nourishment from its mother, eagerly drawing sustenance from her.

As she lay there, her thoughts drifted to Willard, and she pondered whether the rat on her face was, in fact, Willard himself. She looked deeply into his eyes. Upon seeing hers, he halted, a look of fear crossing his face, and withdrew, followed swiftly by the others.

She felt utterly drained; rising from the ground seemed impossible to her. Weak and powerless, the individual could not feel their face, nor could they use their hands. He found himself at the mercy of those long-tailed bastards.

His eyes shut. He awoke in a room on an operating table. The head rat, having locked eyes with the observer, brandished a scalpel and approached with intent. She felt each cut, yet she remained indifferent.

A sensation enveloped him, as if he were adrift in a sea of tranquilly, with opium by his side, a comforting companion in his altered state. She contemplated the actions of the rats and pondered the reasons behind their behaviour towards her.

The answer eluded her, and a scream threatened to escape her lips. Yet, she understood that the rats' fascination with her body could incite a feeding frenzy during the operation, distracting from the true purpose of her presence there.

The initial incision proved to be the most daunting, its depth striking a sense of dread within those who witnessed it. Once that event transpired, a swarm of rats erupted from the abdomen, launching a fierce assault on the surgeon.

As the rats continued to pour from his body, he was soon sewn up and found himself able to stand with ease. The red eyes departed, and the rats' eyes transformed to a deep black.

Once that happened, the rats scattered, as they often do in the presence of humans, even though they had departed from the confines of the abdomen. It was a shocking revelation for the observer to realize that all of these rats were, in fact, connected to them.

She made her way out of the ER and toward a restroom. Upon seeing her face in the mirror, her jaw dropped in astonishment, a gasp escaping her lips.

As the gaze turned inward, the realization dawned that what had been sought amidst the rats' chaos was Willard.

His stomach surged with shock and anxiety, and he longed for what had been: the life he had lost before arriving wherever he was and becoming Willard.

He banged on the glass, shouting "Let me out!"

Those in the glass area shared a laugh at the expense of the individual.

They were not going to let anyone leave this place. “What are you, stupid?” Another rat remarked.

He questioned, "Are you talking to me?" It was stated by me. "What does one truly know?"

She was aware that her presence in this place had lasted much longer than his. She acknowledged, "I arrived here in the same manner as you."

“How does one know the circumstances of my arrival here?” “Did anyone see her arrive?”

Without a doubt, how could one possibly refrain from doing so? All had complied.

“What do you mean by everyone?” “How many are there here?”

"More than he wanted to know, his friend thought."

“Where is here?” By chance? The question was posed with little expectation that the other rat would possess any knowledge or provide a reasonable response.

“It is…” A bell rang, causing a vast scatter among the crowd, and soon, only one remained alone on the floor.

She looked around and crouched as tiny as she could into a ball. Yet it was the fur that eluded her grasp. She never understood why she found herself there, standing alone, as she scooped up the little mouse that scurried past her. It was taken under the body, where it nestled in and fell asleep upon arrival.

Fear had faded away, and the conviction that the action taken was both right and noble settled firmly in the mind. However, the mouse scurried away from the cat named Tom. Tom was an enormous figure, massive in stature, and his mere presence instilled a sense of fear.

He was aware of the mouse's location, assessed the situation, and made his move. The motivation could have stemmed from hunger, or perhaps it was simply a matter of playfulness and curiosity that drove the actions.

To the individual, the notion of dying twice held no allure, thus they steeled themselves for the impending battle. A significant mistake had been made by the individual, who once walked the earth as a human. Now, transformed into a rat, they found themselves utterly lost, lacking any understanding of how to navigate life in this new form or fulfill the instincts of a rat.

Yet he was a rat, doing what rats do, while the fight continued as the mouse scurried away—an ingrate, he thought. Swipes, scratches, and bites swiftly conveyed the imminent danger that surrounded them.

He understood that he had to escape, yet with each strike, his chances of fleeing diminished, threatening to cost him his life as well.

Movement flickered at the edge of his vision, yet he chose not to alert Tom. Instead, he remained steadfast, concentrating on the blows being dealt to him.

A huge blow was dealt, and in the periphery of one’s vision, the colony was seen attacking Tom.

Rescue had come to them, a lifeline in their moment of need. Why was it so? Did they recognize him as Willard? What could have prompted the decision to save her? There were some among the rats that the observer had never encountered before. Yet there they were, all coming to his defence.

He stood and took a deep breath, yet he found himself unable to catch his breath.

In that moment, a rat leaped onto the person's face, exhaling a substantial breath into their mouth and nose. At that minute, she collapsed.

As he made his way down, a profound longing stirred within him, a yearning for anything beyond this existence. Yet, more crucially, he grappled with the weight of the life he had taken from himself.