In the sunny hills of a farming town, there once was a farm that lay on the edge of many green fields. The barn on this farm was very much like the other barns around the countryside. It was tall with many windows and two large red doors.      

The red barn had a pointy roof, a spinning windmill and big white beams crisscrossing over the front doors. Beyond the doors were old tools and machines that the farmer used. There was also an orange cat.

A high loft inside was filled with straw and a sleeping kitty. The cat dozed peacefully on top of a yellow hay bale as the afternoon light trickled in through the many windows. This was his favorite spot to be, nestled in straw at the top of the barn.

During this afternoon, all was quiet in the barn. No wind moved the straw on the floor, and the machines were very still. In the distance, the farmer’s house could be seen, a silhouette sitting on a distant hill. The farmer and his wife were somewhere inside, probably preparing a meal for the evening.

From inside the barn, shadows grew longer and the light became a little dimmer. The barn was silent. The cat still slept on his blanket in the hay and his ears moved occasionally in his sleep. By the door of the barn there sat an old, empty barrel and a small silver bucket.

On the far side of the barn, a dusty, old tractor sat by the wall. It had large, black, rubber wheels that were almost as tall as the farmer. The normal green color now looked grey. It sat like a statue on a long plank of wood that was stuck beneath it.

Underneath the tractor, a few copper wires poked out, ripped and broken. The plank below it was smooth and pale yellow-white in color. On one side of the wood, there was a moon-shaped piece missing from the edge, as if someone had taken a large bite out of the wood. But it was not one large bite, it was lots of little bites.  

Directly below the gnawed wood, there was a hole in the dirt. Because it was so dark and so small, it was hard to see anything except a black, little tunnel. A small scuffling sound could be heard and suddenly, a tiny pink bead appeared in the empty space of the hole. The bead was wiggling and soft looking, like velvet. It had two small nostrils and many whiskers waving from it. 

Slowly and carefully, the pink nose came out and the mouse came into the light. It was the last mouse left. The little mouse came out from the hole and walked carefully. There were a lot of places to go from here but not all were safe. The best and closest choice was the large, rubber tire. This was the first night that the mouse had come out in a while. He wanted to move to the fields outside the barn, but it was far away and escaping was a dangerous task.

In the fields, there was an endless supply of food, more mice to play with and no mean cats. The tractor would plow up the dirt in the spring, but if the mouse lived on the edge of the field, he would be safe. Right now the tractor wasn’t working though. Little mouse’s friends had given their lives chewing through the wires that helped the tractor run. Now it sat broken inside the barn. It helped the mouse because it kept his hole safe from discovery.

Sitting near the tractor, the mouse listened for noises and turned his head left and right, sniffing the air. He decided to hide under a bag of flour next. It was a big and heavy bag that would protect him from the cat. The mouse sneaked along the wall and jumped over a dirty pair of gloves that lay on the ground. As he landed, he heard a boing of something metal and then a click. 

He knew what the sound was and threw himself away from the wall. He watched as a metal sheet fell towards the hard, wooden bottom of a mouse trap. He flew through the air, little paws stretched out and felt his body go under the metal door of the cage. He was almost safe when the door crashed down on his tail. With a loud squeak, the mouse felt the tip of his tail get cut off. He landed in the dirt with a thump and rolled to a stop. Breathing hard, he turned to look at his tail. 

His whole tail was still there except for the last little bit on the end. Whiskers drooping at his loss, he sniffed at his tail and licked the end of it clean. Then he scurried off towards the bag of flour. He was careful not to go near the wall. What the mouse did not see however, was that the orange cat from above had woken up. The cat was eyeing him hungrily. 

The mouse slipped quietly between the wall and the flour bag. He sniffed around and took a deep breath, still a little scared. He was much closer to the barn doors now. The loft looked quiet and there was no sign of a cat. Ready to run quickly, the mouse would go straight for the doors and never look back.