The crescent-shaped bulb was flickering
Like a doubt in one's mind.
It was a pitch-black night
And the bulb tried very hard
To light up the dark street outside.
It was like an ancient tradition,
No one did business at this time.
All shops there, were void of light
Except the bakery, with the baker inside
Just where the bulb, twinkled outside
No other human was there,
No dogs were barking, no cats were meowing,
Frogs and crickets had gone to a distant party.
No one could even hear
The occasional hooting of the owl.
But stillness of the night was stolen
By bugs, buzzing and hovering around the bulb.
While all this was going on,
The baker was aloof of such trivial things.
Only rats were the subjects of his musings.
"Tonight, I will catch them, no matter what.
They will pay for stealing and eating
My hard work, with their life."
He kept on chanting this like a mantra
And put up traps in circles and squares.
"One, two, three..." he started counting.
When he finished, there were a hundred traps.
He placed them cleverly and built a maze,
A puzzle that lead to a big delicious cake
And he smiled for what he had accomplished.
"When they enter I will block the exit."
He thought, feeling a sense of pride
And he hid himself in the storeroom,
Waiting for his arch-enemies
To storm the dimly-lit kitchen room.
But the leader of the rats-
The eldest, the cleverest, the wisest,
Also the largest, sensed the kiss of death.
He ordered the best of his spies
To go check for any adversity.
The spies didn't need to be told twice.
They returned with information full,
Even the layout of the maze they knew.
The leader of the rats came up with a plan,
All his soldier-rats roared in approval
Ten skilled rats went inside the puzzle.
The baker wanted all of them to enter
So, he didn't close his creation.
Anger added to his frustration
As the ten rats took away ten pieces of cake.
When the ten rats came again,
His angry mind decided to trap them
And as he came out of the storeroom
Rest of the rats were waiting for him
With teeth sharpened anew.
They all poked his feet with rage infinite,
Some of them even jumped up
And bit other parts.
For the baker, all this came out of the blue
And he fell down on the traps he himself put.
By the time, this was over
All of the cake was gone.
He found himself entangled within the traps
With some, even on his nose and ears
While the rats rejoiced and he burst into tears.
The pain, the anger and the frustration
He went through tonight
Made him want to put up a new trap
And he waited in rage for the next night
To take revenge on the rats again.
For Poetry Potluck at Jingle Poetry.
For One Single Impression.
Prompt 147: Stillness.