The New York City Rat

I came up with this randomly after school. This is a story about the journey of a rat, told in the third person.

• Short story
• Fiction

								
In the deepest alleyways, in the darkest crevices, lived a rat. He was never alone, for he always kept in a group. But he always felt alone, that’s for sure.
Sometimes, he would stray away from his group, pretending as if they left him completely. Although they never did, he felt it was important to act as if they truly had.
When he would separate paths, he would wander about the streets, making sure to stay out of site. He knew the troubles that existed in that world. Where humans were selfish and cold. Full of hatred, and fright, ridding his likewise for the sake of nothing. He knew that he must avoid it. So he always did.
“Follow along the buildings,” he would whisper upon himself. This way, he could know where he was going, and he could blend in; away from the human's beady eyes. That was his priority, to be hidden away. “Out of sight, out of mind” he believed.
His buildings led him through alleyways, and eventually to a street market, where his awareness heightened caused of the densely populated area. So he would methodically calculate his next steps. 'Wait for the elderly woman to walk past, others will try to go around her. Be careful, because they’ll knock crates over. Go around the danger zone of falling crates, and hug closely around the lemons, but make sure to hold your breath, for you don’t want to breathe in the strong acidic scent.' He continuously stresses the importance of this ordeal upon himself, to emphasize the fragility of life. One false step, and he may be spotted. Captured. Killed.
While at the market, he felt content. He always enjoyed wandering about aimlessly, and alone. He felt that if he paid no attention to others, then they would pay no attention to him. Or that’s what he told himself to believe. When he crosses the road, he attempts to avoid the eyes of the onlooking humans. Sometimes it was impossible to avoid, so he would take it upon himself to look away immediately. The fright from their acknowledgment did horrible wonders to him. He would feel a strange pit, rattling unabashedly within his stomach. But he knew he was too far gone to return. He made it out, away from his likewise, away from their rudimentary ideas.
He hated his peers. “sewer rats,” he would often mutter to himself disgustingly. To acknowledge them properly, would be to claim that they are his equal (although they’re unaware of his low regarding opinions) which he found to be repulsive. 'It’s important not to get too close to them. Or else their habits will infect my own.' He frequently reminded himself of this idea, as he refused to damage himself. For he had an image of himself. He was independent, hygienic, and brave. This was not what his fellow “sewer rats” were. Instead, they hid throughout the deep underground tunnels, packed so tightly they could reform as one. They traveled through the disgusting muck and never cared to explore the world above. They had no aspirations or dreams; no hope. Although he embodied his likewise physically, he felt he couldn’t be any more different from them.
While dusk falls, he knows he must search for his next meal soon. He would follow his sense of smell through sidewalks and steps, through the subway, and out. Of course, like all rats, he used this enhanced ability to discover his meal for the night. Although he was viewed as prey, tonight he was a predator. Scouring the dark alleyways, looking for something. Anything to fill this scorching hunger within his stomach. 
Fortunately for him, he was unknowingly intelligent, with an acute awareness to decipher the difference between harm and care. He knew what was safe to eat, and what wasn’t. Keeping his complex mental checklist attached to him at all times, he knew he must stay alert. He catches sight of something, a prey, he believes. He slowly approaches it, scanning through his list a thousand times over. He analyzes every detail, and with confident finality, he gets ready to pounce. The thin plastic bag strikes open, and out pours liquids, and rot. Everything this rat needs to survive is kept in a singular package all for him to prey on.
Eventually, things must come to an end. So without a home of his own, he knew he must return to his group. Ashamedly so, with a belly full, he returns without a meal to spare. He knew he could’ve shared, but selfishly he chose not to. “Look who finally returned,” the leader quipped out. The rat said nothing, his spirits diminishing the longer he stayed. His silence spoke louder than words, the cliche sentiment signifying the other followers not to approach him.
It was this night, that he concluded. He could not be free, if he returned to the same place that resented the very idea of freedom. Knowing his absence would not create harm (as it never did when he would often stray away) he decided the next morning to leave, and never return. While the moon settles, the rat slows its breath to a calm and steady rhythm.
The next morning, he awoke inhaling a deep breath, and realizing how easily he could. Maybe it was as if a weight was lifted off of his chest, allowing his breaths to become calmer; easier. Maybe the calmness was brought upon by his new decision; to leave. 
So without much else to do, he gathered himself accordingly (not having any belongings to his name) and strayed far away from his group. Only this time, he knew he would never return. With a feathery feeling, the rat journeyed around the city, sticking by his sensible routines; awareness at its peak, and blending in are his top priorities, which are all minor things for him to stay alive.
As time passes, the rat has fallen into a routine. He knows to avoid certain streets, especially those that are populated with restaurants, as they are more keen on removing his likes from the premises. But, he can overstay his welcome wherever, as long as there isn't anyone nearby. He realizes this is the perk to freedom. He can journey where he'd like, when he'd like, without the expectation of return. His only consequence is that he must travel alone.
But unknowingly so, the rat wasn't free. He would never be free, for his cage exceeded further than his old group; further than him.
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