A Significant Life
By Timothy Stecker
“Father told you not to play around.” Misha glared at Vladimir and Yuri who stared back vacantly with dark, blank eyes. “We must go before they come for us.”
Misha shepherded his brown-haired younger brothers as they darted stealthily across the floorboards, clinging to the shadows in the stale, damp space.
Father’s voice rasped and his gray hair matted. “Why are you back so soon? And with no food?”
Misha lifted his chin towards his father. “There could be trouble.”
Father’s face darkened. “Let us hide.”
The four cowered and Yuri sobbed, “Why do they hate us? Why must they kill?”
Father nuzzled Yuri gently. “They do not hate us. They are scared.” He peered from inside the wall and across the space, illuminated only by the faintest of twilight peeking through a shuttered window.
Yuri quivered. “Scared, but why?”
“Because of something our ancestors did many years ago. Something that killed millions of them.”
“Millions?”
“It does not matter if it is true, what matters is they believe it. Now, they want to eradicate us so they can feel safe.”
“What happened to Mother?”
Father prevaricated. “I told you, Yuri, she is still out looking for food. She will be back.”
“Oh.”
Misha looked away because he knew it was a lie. He found his mother on the day she died, only a week after giving birth to his brothers. Her body was buried where she’d taken her last breath. He accepted his burden to hide the truth to not upset Yuri and Vladimir.
“Father,” Yuri whined. “I am so hungry.”
“Not now. It is not safe.”
Vladimir stepped outside of their hide. “It was my fault and I will go.”
“No. I forbid it. Tomorrow—” Before Father finished, Vladimir disappeared.
“Father, let me go with him. I too made the noise and he should not be alone.” Yuri vanished.
“Promise you will stay, Misha.”
“I will, Father.”
The enervated father was too anxious to sleep, and Misha twitched at every sound, hopeful it belonged to his brothers. Misha startled awake when he felt the presence. “Where is Vladimir?”
Yuri’s face quivered.
Father’s eyes drooped. “He is dead, is he not?”
Yuri’s head sunk and he lowered his gaze. “He fell and they caught him.”
Father closed his eyes in prayer.
Yuri presented a large morsel. “But, Father, I found food.”
Misha’s sadness filled his stomach. “I am not hungry.”
“Eat, Father, you need your strength. I tried it and it is good.”
Father took the food from Yuri and ate. No sooner had he finished, when Yuri’s body shuddered and he fell.
Father darted to him. “Yuri, where did you get this food?”
Yuri gasped, unable to respond. He died next to Misha.
Father’s gaze softened with resignation. “Please, Misha, remember what I have taught you. Find a mate. Have many children and teach them—” Father twitched. “Teach them it is possible for a mouse to have a significant life.”
