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Harvest Mouse

        I was in the cockpit of the combine when I saw the mouse. I don’t know how I saw it. The turning combine was all dust and flying chaff, yet my eyes immediately focused in on the tiny, brown, fleeing body. The machine must have overturned its nest.
       I pressed a button and the giant machine beneath me shuddered to a stop. The engine slowly whined down. One of the timing gears ticked softly. I opened the cockpit and stepped out onto the ladder. Everything seemed unnaturally still.
       I climbed down and carefully picked my way through the corn to the front of the massive blades. The cockpit of the combine was air-conditioned, but down here I felt sweat bead on my neck; dust stung my eyes. I searched the ground but all trace of the mouse’s home must have been wiped away. I looked up at the combine, towering next to me, dwarfed by its size. 
       What must the mouse have felt? I remembered Robert Burn’s lines from “To a Mouse”:
       I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
       Has broken Nature’s social union,
       An’ justifies that ill opinion,
       Which makes thee startle,
       At me…

Zary Fekete grew up in Hungary. He has a debut novella (Words on the Page) out with DarkWinter Lit Press and a short story collection (To Accept the Things I Cannot Change: Writing My Way Out of Addiction) out with Creative Texts. He enjoys books, podcasts, and many many many films. Twitter and Instagram: @ZaryFekete Bluesky:zaryfekete.bsky.social.
  • Home
  • ISSUES
    • ISSUE ONE
    • ISSUE TWO
    • ISSUE THREE
    • ISSUE FOUR
    • ISSUE FIVE
    • ISSUE SIX
  • CLEAN-UP EVENTS
  • PROJECT GAIA: AN ANTHOLOGY
  • BLOG
  • ABOUT
    • MISSION
    • MASTHEAD
  • SUBMISSIONS