RMCA Fiction:
The Mouse Knight II: Squibble's Story

Cutter Hays

For Heide

Beloved Friend
Loving Mouse Mom
Kind Human


I am standing at the grave of my mother. She died of cancer. For those of you without the experience, it is a sad, slow, pathetic death, not worthy of my gentle, noble mother. This is where I come to do all my thinking, and since my years are long now, I think a lot.

I suppose I should start this story at the beginning, but such rules were made by programmed people who want to please a programmed society. You'll find I break most of those rules, and I am certainly happier for it. The rules are stupid. They are made to keep one from thinking for oneself. Such things are for the soulless barbarians of the world, and I do not cast myself among their ranks.

You will see, if you care to look deeply, much more than a mere tale in these pages. It carries with it my soul, and the profound transformation of it across the last two years. I wrote it as it happened, in my journal, which my beloved master asked me to keep. The artwork is mine too. Be patient with it please. I've been nothing if not a work in progress. This journal was not intended for publication - it was a personal record of my entire life, and though I wrote the words to some reader (perhaps my master) who I imagined desperately desired to know what I had to say, I hardly believed anybody would ever care. However, my master published his story, and I have tried my best to follow in his footsteps - left so long ago across this quiet field. It was he who told me to dance to the tune of my own music - the music only I can hear, different from all others. He said blessed are they who can single out this wonderful music, and follow it all their lives. Everyone has it. It may be drowned out in all that you do or have done, it may be dim from your pain and experience, but it doesn't stop until you do. It's never too late to be yourself. That was perhaps the only thing I never faltered on. I was always myself.

Thus I am putting these words at the end of my story, having written it all, drawn it all, and seen it in hindsight. To me it seems very sad now that it's over, and looking back, I would never have done the things I did or gone the places I went if I had clearly seen what was coming. I don't think any of us would. We'd see the terrors rising to meet us in the future and avoid them. The universe had other plans for me, however, and cared little for my wounds along the way. Sometimes wounds heal, sometimes they don't, but they define us as much as our happy moments. My Master said they give us character. I have been told I have alot of that.

For all my supposed integrity and honor, I might have avoided the horrors. I did see most of them coming, though I made excuses to convince myself I had not, and I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. Believe me. Anyone would have. Yet if I had chosen the path of least resistance, I'd be a different person now - and the fate of many would have been forever altered because of it. My only saving grace was in the fact that I never did buy the whole 'great hero seeing the future' thing until the very end. And perhaps that was part of the Universe's plan as well. Tricky universe.

I cannot claim normalcy. I cannot say that I didn't see the cost of my choices, and I have no excuses. I saw it all, I was warned several times, and in the end chose to step into the path of destruction. Often along the way I broke down and tried to change it - I really did. But I am not all powerful. In fact, I am smaller than many think. There are so many dark shades out there - so much ignorance and pain, that someone must step up to the challenge or the world will have nobody to champion it. Evil and tragedy would win by default. So I am the one that stepped forward for my people, because someone had to. Facing demons and slaying dragons is what Knights do. I understood the job was dangerous when I took it.

Oh, by the way, I'm a mouse.

My name's Squibble.

Squibble (Copyright 2005 Cutter Hays)

First Tangent: Magnificent Man