We Were Once Rabbits

The giant windows covered with black drapes lit up with flash after jagged flash of lightning. Thunder pounding so loud on top of each salvo, surely the world would end. The wind swirled down the chimney and the flames jumped and waned, then burst higher. We scrunched close together on the floor rug before the blaze, so warm and cozy. We all smelled like smoke. The crackling flames mesmerized our big innocent eyes, in our rabbit ear pajamas. We looked cute and funny, but the funniest was Trell in the wolf pajamas. He wasn’t funny like ha-ha—he was funny like scary. He was much larger than us rabbits and he sat over in the dark corner. Sometimes, I wondered if he even wore pajamas? All I could see were red eyes.

Old Meltzer brought our hot chocolate on a silver rolling cart. He poured the silver cups full, and we lined up to receive the streaming treat. Little blue, pink and white bunnies. Trell never partook in the hot chocolate. Melzer filled his enormous silver bowl with blood and gore—always after one of us disappeared.

Sitting Indian-style with our backs to the fire. We stared at Trell much like the fire hypnotized us. Meltzer, in his white butler’s coat, rolled the cart on the stone floor to the dark corner. “Stay back, damn you!” The enormous shadow shifted and chain links clinked on the stone. Meltzer slopped the bowl down at the edge of the darkness. A perfect quarter-circle of darkness. Like someone stabbed a protractor into the corner and set the pencil for 15 feet. In that radius of darkness was Trell’s domain.

Our rabbit's ears perked up, waiting for Trell. I smelled something wild and musky that made my stomach flop, but I still wanted the hot chocolate. None of us, and there were only five now, touched our hot chocolate until Trell tried his bloody gore. The chain links hit the stone floor. A black shiny nose with holes the size of dimes hovered into the light over the silver bowl of blood. It looked like Trell’s pajamas fit better than ours because his teeth looked just like my German Shepherd Kings when I got too close to his food. Trells’s were much larger.

His long red tongue lapped up the blood, before tearing into the meat. We laughed and clinked our silver cups together like celebrating New Year’s, and sipped our hot chocolate. We turned back to the roaring fire, and at midnight the silver cart rolled toward us, and old Meltzer had our midnight snack. A silver bowl of chopped carrots that we all shared, chomping hardily like rabbits. After eating the carrots, my mind swooned deliriously and I would swear we really were rabbits, and I felt so afraid and nuzzled up to my four friends and slept.

The next evening, we were down to four. Our mood of collective happiness soured into bewilderment. The silver cups of hot chocolate were in our rabbit paws. Old Meltzer had grease spots on his white coat. He yelled at Trell and put down his bowl and Meltzer kicked Trell, and he yelped, then a long dangerous growl erupted from the dark corner. I didn’t like Meltzer being mean to Trell.

At midnight, we got our chopped carrots that always tasted a little like medicine, but it’s all we got until after twelve the next day, so we chomped them up. I decided not to eat, because they made me so sleepy, I wanted to see who might disappear. The fire was dying, and I shivered.

A voice came from the dark corner, “Let me lose, little bunny, before he comes.”

“Is that you Trell?”

“Yes.”

“How?” I was naïve and trusting. I knew I shouldn’t talk to Trell.

“Come over and I will show you.”

“Meltzer won’t like that.”

“Meltzer is a cannibal and is drugging you kids.”

I looked down at my bunny pajamas, which used to be white but now were dingy gray. “Are you really a wolf?”

“Yes.”

“How can you talk?”

“It’s the drugs.”

I hopped over to the darkness. It stank like pee over by Trell. I was shaking. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Just a little farther. Unsnap it.”

My paw, unsnapped the heavy chain that dropped and hit the stone floor.

Trell stood above my head. His mouth was closed, then it opened, and I wanted to shriek with terror. I could smell his bloody breath, like copper pennies and rotten meat. The red tongue licked me, and I thought he was going to eat me. Helping Trell was an even bigger mistake than getting into Meltzer’s car. “It’s okay little bunny.” My arms in the rabbit pajamas hugged his furry neck, and he laughed.

Meltzer came into the room, pushing his silver cart. Long knives and a hacksaw were ready for some ominous work. He walked over, looked at us, and threw a log onto the fire, not replacing the screen. Several hot embers burned the rug, and ashes floated on us, sleeping bunnies. He went to the dark corner. “Hey mutt!” He had a whip in his hand.

I watched, hoping Meltzer wouldn’t hurt Trell. Trell roared out of his prison of darkness. Melzer didn’t have time to be in shock. Trell crunched his hand and wouldn't let go. The whip thumped to floor. Trell forced Melzer to his knees. Like Melzer was his subject and must bow to his teeth. Trell, like I said, funny but not ha-ha, funny like scary, bit him everywhere even into the soles of Meltzer’s awful feet.

After it was done, and morning came, we were back up to five. The wolf laid beside us rabbits.

***

Christopher Ananias enjoys wildlife photography and living in Kokomo, Indiana. His work has appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, University at Buffalo, and The Antihumanist.