Mrs. Rabbit - A Short Story

Mrs. Rabbit had spent two long, wearisome years wandering through the shadowed woodlands, her heart heavy with the weight of her beloved husband's absence. Each dawn found her tracing the mist-laden paths, senses attuned to the whispers of the forest, eyes scanning the tangled underbrush for any sign of him. The scent of damp earth and pine clung to her cloak, a constant reminder of the miles she had traversed in solitude.

The woodland-folk murmured amongst themselves, their hushed voices weaving rumors that rustled through the leaves. Some claimed he had abandoned her for another, slipping away beneath the veil of night. But darker whispers spoke of more sinister fates. It was Mr. Fox—cunning yet unexpectedly sincere—who confided that her husband was last seen during the dreaded autumn hunts; a solitary, haunting cry that echoed sharply after the crack of distant gunshots and the relentless howls of hounds.

Mrs. Rabbit, enveloped in a deep and consuming depression, wandered aimlessly through the shadowed woods, her footsteps slow and uncertain. The once familiar paths now seemed like a maze, each turn leading her deeper into the embrace of towering trees and whispering leaves. She was lost not only in the labyrinth of the forest but also within the confines of her own heart, refusing to accept the possibility that Mr. Rabbit was truly gone. The rustling of the underbrush and the distant calls of birds offered no comfort, only reminders of her solitary quest.

Her neighbors noticed the profound change that had overtaken her. The vibrant sparkle that once illuminated her eyes had faded into a distant, hollow stare. Where there had been laughter and warm smiles, there was now a stoic mask etched with lines of sorrow. Silence clung to her like a shroud, and she no longer engaged in the cheerful conversations that once filled her days. Occasionally, whispers spread through the village of sightings—of Mrs. Rabbit muttering madly to herself as she drifted by, a shadow of the vivacious soul she used to be.

One day, as the sun dipped low and shadows stretched long, Mrs. Rabbit heard the distant echoes of dogs barking and the sharp shouts of men—the hunters. Without a second thought, she began to run toward the commotion, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild drum. The forest blurred around her, a tapestry of dark greens and browns, as branches snagged at her clothes and leaves whispered secrets she could not decipher. What thoughts propelled her forward, no one could truly say. Perhaps she was resigned to meet the same fate she feared had befallen Mr. Rabbit, or maybe a flicker of hope urged her on—that she might find some semblance of him when she caught up to the hunters.

Just as she was about to break through the treeline and confront the hunting party atop their towering beasts, their hounds yapping in a relentless chorus, she came to an abrupt halt. There, standing incongruously among the ancient trees, was a large mirror framed in intricate gold designs, its surface shimmering like liquid silver. Mesmerized, she stepped closer, her breath hitching as she peered into its depths. But the face that gazed back was not her own. No, it was the blurred and haunting reflection of Mr. Rabbit. His eyes seemed to reach out to her, filled with a silent plea that stirred the depths of her soul.

Mrs. Rabbit moved toward the enigmatic mirror, her steps hesitant yet filled with a newfound lightness that she hadn't felt in years. For the first time since his disappearance, hope flickered within her—a small flame burning brighter as she drew nearer to her beloved's face reflected in the mirror's shimmering surface. The intricate gold designs framing the mirror seemed to come alive, twisting and turning like vines reaching out to embrace her. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the growing anticipation that perhaps, just perhaps, she was moments away from reuniting with Mr. Rabbit.

She paused before the mirror, her breath catching as she extended a trembling hand toward the radiant surface. To her astonishment, her fingers slipped through as if dipping into cool, liquid water. The sensation was a cold, wet fluidity that sent a shiver up her arm, but it did not deter her. Determination etched across her face, she knew that nothing would keep her from him now. Gathering her courage, she stepped forward, allowing the mirror to envelop her completely. The world she knew faded behind her as she walked fully through, surrendering herself to the unknown in the hope of finding the one she loved.

Stepping through the mirror, Mrs. Rabbit found herself in a world that was an uncanny replica of the one she had just left. However, an unsettling stillness hung in the air. The forest, usually alive with the rustling of leaves and the gentle whispers of the wind, was now enveloped in an eerie silence. The distant barking of dogs and the melodious songs of birds were conspicuously absent. A dense fog clung to the ground, swirling around the gnarled roots and creeping up the twisted trunks of ancient trees. Visibility was limited; shadows danced at the edge of her sight, and familiar landmarks seemed distorted and distant.

Desperately, she searched the mist-laden surroundings for any sign of her husband's face, her heart pounding with a mix of hope and dread. Suddenly, a dark silhouette emerged from the fog. The figure's clothing resembled Mr. Rabbit's, and his ears hung limply by his sides, no longer perked up as they once were. A surge of emotion overwhelmed her—shock intertwined with a fleeting joy. With a trembling voice, she called out and ran toward him, her footsteps muffled by the soft earth. Reaching him, she grasped his shoulder and gently turned him around. She nearly stumbled backward as her gaze met his face: his eyes were hollowed out, empty voids where wise and loving eyes once shone. A scream rose in her throat, but the sheer magnitude of her shock rendered her silent, leaving her standing there in mute horror.

Mr. Rabbit reached out his hand, emerging from the swirling mist like a phantom from her deepest dreams. "Are you truly here, my love?" he asked, his voice a haunting whisper that seemed to echo through the stillness around them. The emptiness where his eyes once shone bore into her, yet there was a familiar warmth in his tone that pulled at the strings of her heart. The fog wrapped around them both, a silent witness to this surreal reunion.

Mrs. Rabbit found herself unable to speak; words caught in her throat as a tumult of emotions surged within her. She simply nodded, tears glistening in her eyes, acknowledging his presence with a subtle movement. "I've been waiting for ages for you," Mr. Rabbit continued. He grasped her hands, and she recoiled slightly at the clammy coldness of his touch. Confusion tangled with joy as she felt the paradox of his closeness and the unsettling state he was in. He leaned in slowly, pressing a gentle kiss upon her lips. A shiver ran down her spine—he was so cold, so unnaturally cold.

"I cannot leave this place without you, my beloved," Mr. Rabbit murmured, his grip tightening ever so slightly. Still enveloped in bewilderment but ignited by a flicker of hope, Mrs. Rabbit replied, "Come with me, I know how to get you out of here." Beneath her lingering fear, she clung to the belief that escaping this nightmarish realm—a distorted echo of her own world—would set everything right. Yes, she thought, bringing him home would restore him to the man she remembered. It was this place that had twisted him into a shadow of himself, and she was determined to banish the darkness that had enveloped them both.

She led him back toward the mirror, its golden frame shimmering faintly in the muted light that filtered through the dense fog. "If we go through this portal, we will be able to return home," Mrs. Rabbit said, her voice tinged with hopeful longing. "We can make things right again." Her eyes searched his hollow ones for a glimmer of agreement, clinging to the fragile hope that their lives could return to the way they once were. The mirror stood like a gateway between worlds, its surface rippling gently as if beckoning them to step through.

Mr. Rabbit turned his head slowly toward her, a solemn expression etched upon his ashen face. He shook his head softly. "I cannot leave, my love," he whispered, his voice echoing like a distant memory carried on a cold breeze. "Why?" she asked, devastation sinking into her bones, her voice cracking under the weight of her sadness. "In order to leave this place, a life must be given. A replacement must be made," he explained, his tone heavy with regret. "For me to return, you would have to stay. And I could not do that to you, my beloved." His words hung in the air like a mournful lament, the realization of their impossible choice enveloping them both.

Mrs. Rabbit felt utterly broken, a profound hopelessness washing over her like a relentless tide. Years of tireless searching had led her to this moment—she had finally found Mr. Rabbit, only to face the unbearable prospect of losing him all over again. The weight of her despair threatened to crush her spirit entirely. "But," Mr. Rabbit spoke softly, a hint of urgency in his voice, "if you stay, I will leave this place and return once more, shortly."

A flicker of fear crossed Mrs. Rabbit's face as she looked up at him, her eyes wide with apprehension. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He gazed into the swirling mist, the fog enveloping them like a shroud. "If you stay and give me some time, I will return with one of the hunters," he explained. "I will lead him through the mirror and cause him to become lost here. In exchange for his life, you will be able to leave and return home with me." His words hung heavy in the air, a chilling proposition that left her torn between hope and horror.

Mrs. Rabbit, though frightened by the oppressive darkness of this unfamiliar realm, placed her trust in Mr. Rabbit. For the first time in years, a flicker of excitement warmed her heart at the thought of returning home together. "I will wait," she agreed softly, her voice barely audible amid the silent woods. He leaned in and pressed a cold kiss upon her forehead—a touch that sent a chill cascading down her spine again. "I promise I will return," he whispered. As he turned away, she watched him step through the mirror, its surface rippling as it parted for him. His form shimmered and distorted briefly before solidifying on the other side, back in the world she knew so well.

As he fully emerged into their familiar world, he paused and glanced back at her, raising a hand in a silent farewell. Relief began to bloom within her, but it was swiftly crushed by a mounting horror. Mrs. Rabbit's eyes widened in terror as she saw his fur begin to peel away, curling back like withered leaves and pooling around his neck. The skin followed, slipping off to reveal the stark white of bone beneath. His skeletal face emerged, the eye sockets dark and empty voids that seemed to swallow the light. Before the last remnants of flesh vanished from his visage, a terrifying grin stretched across what remained of his features. "Goodbye," he uttered, but the voice was no longer his—it was deep, resonant, and filled with a malevolent echo that chilled her to the core.

She stood rooted to the spot, a scream caught in her throat as she watched the skin cascade from his body, gathering in a grotesque heap at his feet. The skeletal figure that had once been her husband crouched low, bones creaking eerily in the oppressive silence, and then scuttled away on all fours into the shadows of the forest. Panic seized her, and she began pounding desperately on the mirror's unyielding surface, her fists striking against the cold barrier as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Mr. Rabbit!" she cried out, her voice fractured by sobs. Behind her, the sound of footsteps emerged—soft at first, then growing louder—but the fog had thickened into an impenetrable veil. She spun around, her eyes straining to pierce the gloom, but all she saw was the swirling mist enveloping her, hiding whatever approached from sight.

…

It was Mr. Fox who, while meticulously tending to his garden under the fading light of dusk, thought he heard the blood-curdling scream of Mrs. Rabbit echoing through the silent woods. He paused, trowel in hand, the haunting sound sending a chill down his spine. The scream lingered in the air, intertwining with the rustling leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Shaking his head solemnly, he dismissed it as one of her rumored fits—a tragic consequence of the grief that had consumed her these past years. With a heavy sigh, he returned to his work, gently pruning the rose bushes that climbed along the fence, their thorns a stark reminder of beauty intertwined with pain.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Mr. and Mrs. Rabbit were never seen or heard from again. Their quaint cottage at the edge of the woodland meadow stood silent, windows dark and the garden overgrown with wildflowers reclaiming their space. The community whispered among themselves, stories woven around flickering fires and beneath starlit skies. After many hunting seasons passed, the murmurs grew into unsettling rumors—that both had been captured by the hunters who prowled the forest depths. Their tale became a somber legend, a haunting reminder of love, loss, and the shadows that lurk just beyond the familiar paths.

The only remnants of Mr. and Mrs. Rabbit were the fearful tales whispered by woodland children to their parents—stories of a skeletal creature stalking them through the forest shadows, beckoning them to follow as they made their way home. But these tales were quickly dismissed as children merely embellishing the stories they heard around the woodlands.

Story by Author Linda Blackmoor (9|30|2024)