Other stories for this prompt

The room was white, that much was certain. Its brightness was intoxicating. Two men stood over a small table, they were draped in white lab coats and held brown clipboards. Their arthritic hands jotted and scrawled down various notes and blurbs, and they occasionally looked up from their clipboard to observe what was on the table. The table was round, and it had three legs that were in contact with the white floor. At the center of the table was a small white mouse, belly up, red eyes staring into oblivion. The creature was dead. It had been dead for...

Written by Monsterbat:

The mouse didn't know about the afterlife. It just started to move. After that evil cat had eaten him whole, it felt extremely liberating to climb back out of the jaws of death. It travelled to the nearest art supply store, and started to look around. It finally came to the big cheese: a large, yellow coloured notebook with holes made to give the illusion of a dairy product. Mr. Whiskers screamed with joy. He strained to open the notebook. He achieved his goal, but not without a price. The strain was too much. He began to...

When I was a child, we used to have pet mice. The first one was called Snips and I don't remember how or why, but we had it for a few weeks and then it died.

According to Grandpop, who is not the most reliable storyteller...no, that's not quite true. He's a reliable storyteller, he's just not the most reliable truthteller. According to Grandpop, Snips didn't die of any ordinary mouse cause of death.

Snips died because he got in with the wrong type of animal.

Again, I'll stress that this is all according to Grandpop, not something I saw...