The Rats

The rats, always the rats

I hear them, scurrying

Their claws clicking

Scuttling through the walls

The gnashing of their teeth

I cannot sleep

For they will ooze through

Every crack and crevice

And destroy, destroy, destroy

A gust of wind blows out my lamp

There is silence, and darkness

And then the scurrying of tiny feet

Twinkling eyes stare at me

From the edge of the bed

A moving mass of blackness

I feel a sharp prick

On my ankle

Made by tiny teeth

Feel my flesh tear

My hand slams down

Crushing a small, hairy body

Its bones cracking

I feel another prick on my side

Then another, then another

I try to fight them

I snap their backs as quickly as I can

But there are always more rats

I cannot outnumber the rats

I hear the spongy sound

Of my body being chewed

I feel wet fur, and realize the wetness

Is my blood, pouring out around me

I cannot move, it hurts too much

Can no one stop the rats?