House of Wolves

The warm spring sun fell on the garden which stretched all around the huge house. A lot of trees threw soft shadows and between them everything was green with grass. A white spot sat there on the ground, moving slowly, eating a little bit of grass here and there. Without a sound a shadow moved nearer, but the white spot didn’t seem to care. And then a scream sounded through the garden, startling nearby birds, and a shovel came crashing down on the white spot.

“Ha! Gotcha!” Mrs. Carmichael breathed heavily and looked down on the dead rabbit. The animal, not so white in its current form, twitched. A small sound emanated from it, almost like the ringing of small bells. Then Mrs. Carmichael heard a distinct „plop“.

“Oh no, not again, you little bugger!” The dead animal was gone and two bright-white rabbits sat on the ground, oblivious to their surroundings and carefully chewing on the grass. Mrs. Carmichael took a step back and almost fell over another rabbit which was slowly wandering around behind her. She shrieked and looked over to the side of the house where more white spots poured out of the side of a large shed. “No, no, you haven‘t…”

In the distance the bells of the village’s church rang six. “No, I can’t stand another night,” Mrs. Carmichael sounded seriously worried and headed back to the house. It was almost seven when a van noisily made its way up the hill road towards the house. It came to a creaking halt in front of the main entrance where Mrs Carmichael already waited.

A man climbed out of the car. “About time,” she greeted him.

“And a good day to you, too,” he replied and looked interested at the white rabbit coming slowly around the left corner of the house.

“So, where are they?” asked Mrs. Carmichael.

“They, Ma‘am?”

“The wolves.”

“Oh, that’s just the company name. We don’t actually work with animals.” He grabbed a bag from the car and shut the door. The company logo read “House of Wolves”. And below it: “pest control”.

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