Rat

• Angus Begg, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2009

Ratratratratratrat, the proverbial sound of the gun, “rat, rat, rat” an excellent noise to describe the man behind it. A soldier, a man of great honour, a hero to our nation, I had hear it all but I saw it all as well. The guns in practice the horrors they create, the rats behind them, filth of the earth. They say they follow orders, they have no choice who lives or dies, but I know the truth, they are wrong. The face of a man who has just shot another is not of sorrow but of glee, he may have shot one who would kill him you may say. No! This is not the case his eyes tell a different story one of pleasure in another’s demise. For at heart he is the same as the lion, the bear and the wolf, an animal.
I was lying in this mud disguised by the man sitting next to me, “ratratratrat” said the gun. Around the sky was placid blue, we were in a wood green was the colour of the aromatic leaves above, the sent of them calmed me. Suddenly I saw an owl perched on a long elegant mottled branch, its eyes were beautiful the size of apples, its feathers created a tightly packed harlequin pattern on its back. Suddenly a sense of serenity swept over me, “ratratratrat” it was there again the gun, a weapon of destruction with one purpose, to kill.
Everyone in this organization had that purpose the officers, the technicians, the doctors, maybe not directly but still the goal was the same. I thought of the animalistic traits of mankind as opposed to the owl in the tree. The owl was peaceful, and wallowing in it’s own sense of serenity not part of a race that shows enmity for all around them.
Ratratratratrat, the noise was really starting to get to at this point, I loathed the man next to me for committing such an act. I felt such contempt for him but then I looked up. The elegant owl that had been sitting upon the elegant branch had swooped down to take something from the ground. It reached with its thin, drawn-out, powerful talon and grabbed a petite wood mouse, that had been eating the grass, harmlessly. Then took the mouse to the beautiful branch, and bit the head of the mouse. A thin spray of blood shot along the elegant branch, soiling it destroying my perceptions of beauty.
Ratratratratrat, the bloody gun my finger began to twitch as each shot was fired off. Ratratratrat again and again the maddening noise sounded, then ratratratrat not from the gun but from higher in the trees. I looked up to see the owl, the perfect owl with the tightly packed harlequins on its back, was chewing parts of the mouse and the sound of the beak clicking together: ratrataratrat. I watched in horror as the owl’s and man’s faces became one with the whole of the world.