Mr Stuart.

This is not Mr. Stuart if not the representation of one of his comrades. Picture from Internet. PS: Not metaphors or secret symbols are hidden on this text.

This is not Mr Stuart if not the representation of one of his comrades. Picture from the Internet.
PS: Not metaphors or secret symbols are hidden in this text.

Mr Stuart crossed the threshold like a lighting bolt. He slightly stopped a fraction of a second to recover his breath while the door was closing behind him. He continued his fast run away for all the house until he arrived at the sofa where he found the blanket and he curled himself under it.

He was extremely scared. Someone was stalking him and that sensation, of fear and panic, made him tremble in his burrow in a way that even his moustache was shaking. Without to forget the strange movements of the blanket.

He could not understand it. Why that ruffian is following me? What does he want of me, a poor being who works hard to earn the food each day? Have I done something to that beast without to notice it? Mr Stuart’s agitation continued under the cloth without to can find any answer or logical explanation to all those questions to which not even himself had an answer. It must be he has had a bad day. He though. After all, I haven’t done anything. But… I’ve seen it! No, no, no, I’m not insane. He has tried to kill me with a lash… He must be out of his mind!

Although, before all of this, maybe it would be more appropriate to tell you a bit more about this poor creature who suffered from bigger troubles than his own size.

Mr Stuart was a being quite short for his age but, apart of this peculiarity there were not so many things which made him stand out. Maybe, his rounded shapes, his short hands and feet or the slightly prologued shape of his nose and moustache would be a bit remarkable but nothing else. Well, thinking about it better, Mr Stuart has always had a curious way of to move. He has never walked slowly but, sometimes, he has stopped for so long to look around him and when he had smelt that something was wrong he had continued at a fast pace; a walk closer to the desperation of the scared being whom believes he is followed and who is ready to have a heart attack than a simple mosey.

Something which has always characterised Mr Stuart it has been his easily frightened behaviour. Anything which you could imagine made him start to run. That a loud object fell in the middle of the street Mr Stuart ran. That, someone, slammed the door… Mr Stuart ran to hide. That the wind blew hard making strange noises… Mr Stuart ran even faster to see if he could even escape of the wind and of the sounds, of course.

The way Mr Stuart dressed was not anything remarkable either. The truth is, it could be said, what the shy fellow liked was to do not be noticed at all. If there was any occasion of to spot him the outfit was always the same: a brown suit with a front cover of the same tone which was lightly fair.

Mr Stuart’s job had always been quite routinely too. On the morning, when the sunrise started, he left his house for to walk the empty streets towards his workplace, which was not any prestigious duty: not a doctor, accountant, lawyer or other professions reserved for higher beings.

No. His job was one of the most humble but important which exist in this world. If it was not for this job a lot of creatures on this planet could not eat and, simply, because those same creatures would not have time to do what Mr Stuart made each day: collect.

Yes, like you have heard, Mr Stuart was a collector but not of any thing. He did not carry the metals, cardboards, plastics, empty glass bottles or other limited collective items from fancy films. No, my friends, what Mr Stuart collected was fruit, cereals and seeds. Of any kind, he did not make a distinction to any hard working at the field for to get certain loots. If he could give a part of himself collecting for to contribute to the community then he went the round and tiny Stuart to make his duty.

Despite he was quite mousy everybody loved him inside his community. In fact, he was invited to all sort of events and parties in which the fruit, cereals and select cheeses awaited. Because where Mr Stuart lived everybody loved and respected the cheese and milk like luxury goods.

It was not until a few months ago since Mr Stuart started to change. Well, in reality, he did not change, he was just more scared than usual. Soon, he started to say someone was stalking him and the rumours about he was turning insane despite his young age spread quickly around the area.

However, a shadow began to go after the different creatures. So many watched strange things, which they did not like at all… Everybody became more afraid than usual. Even, so many gave the reason to Mr Stuart despite they only talked about that inside their houses and not in public. So the poor Mr Stuart was not really knowing if he was becoming insane or not because no one said a word.

A creepy figure trailed the area. The only one who had seen it well was Mr Stuart who was very scared for to talk about it or even to talk about anything. What it was clear, it was that being did not have any intention of to steal. He was not interested in fruits, cereals, seeds… Not even in cheese! No, what that presence wanted was to kill. And, it seemed, the fact of to hunt Mr Stuart awoken on him some sort of primitive satisfactory instinct: a depredator instinct.

Of course, no one could understand why that creature had this strange obsession with the poor Mr Stuart and not with the rest of members of the place. Although, supposedly, it was given for granted the reason was not other that Mr Stuart was a bit bulkier than the rest of his fellows.

It is the truth, his work like collector allowed to him certain privileges that not everybody could have. And… So many times, he ate out of time what he should not eat, but in that consisted to live well and happiness. What else could he expect about to live? If not to enjoy, to keep humble and to leave in peace?

Now, he felt on his whiskers and on the bristly hair of his body that maybe it was not a good idea to have eaten so much for that long time. I should be thin and weak. Thought the poor fellow shaking from under the blanket. If I won’t be worth not even a penny and I’ll be light like a cork that wretched wouldn’t be stalking me. He’s frightening. Only watching his long whiskers, his long nails and his intense feline eyes I can’t stop to tremble. And thanks that I haven’t given to him enough time to see his teeth!

The blanket moved wavely in front of these thoughts like it did the tiny body of Mr Stuart. Maybe he’s jealous and envy, not for my appearance or round look if not because I can get more fruit and cereals than no one. Yes, it must be that… But, what does he care! I’m harming no one with my job. I only work hard to help others and, of course, to myself. How if not I was going to buy cheese at the market! He must be insane. There’s not a better option. Maybe he has run away from a house and he is hungry. Maybe for that, he comes for me but, why for me?

His frustration increased in a way, that it had made Mr Stuart loose for completely the appetite and the interest about anything. Even the fact that someone approached him a piece of the good cheese did not interest him anymore. The time passed and he did not eat, not drink. He did not go to work either. He was just there: hiding under the blanket at the sofa.

Until it arrived a moment he found inside him enough courage to make a very brave act: to crawl from under the blanket and to peek into the window. Fact, which made him come back, terrified, to the same spot after to check those awful whiskers kept outside waiting and stalking him for to eat him.

It could not be possible. What had the poor Mr Stuart done for to deserve that suffering and punishment? Rodents like him only limited themselves to do their jobs, to live well and to look time pass. Which fault had he that no one had slapped well that smelly cat or, that probably, his owner did not feed him right? What did it know the poor and humble Mr Stuart of all of this? If, after all, he was only a simple field mouse who loved cheese!

Suddenly, and like listened for a bigger voice, the miracle was done. He listened to noises. Sounds from the giants who use weird machines. Shyly, he approached to the window and he let his snout smelt what was happening before to show for the crystal his round eyes. Definitely, it was the big people and for his surprise and happiness, they were putting the cat inside a cage to take it away.

I knew he was a fugitive. He though. The real cats from our times are more polite and they are better fed.

The scene of the capture of Mr Stuart’s stalker awoke in him a huge relief which, like a good mouse, it woke up and immediate effect which cheered his appetite directing him towards the piece of cheese which someone, probably one of the giant’s cubs of the house, had left there for him.

He took the piece of cheese with his small hands and he approached again to the window to watch the scene of how his nightmare finished. It had been like his own personal terror film and he did not like to be the main character of that.

He ate the piece of cheese like the giants and big people use to make with popcorn when they see a film or any show. It’s good. He thought. Finally, it hasn’t been so tragic.

In the end, Mr Stuart felt peace. He was free. That piece of cheese made wonders. Something mysterious and fantastic also called: Magic.

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