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Text Box: Harp’s Dash
By Rebekah F.

Text Box:                  “Hmmm . . .” muttered Harp, glancing around at the high, vaulted ceiling and fancy columns of the University Center. She had been here once or twice before because her life-long home was in the mall nearby, but it still confused her a little.
                 The stairs will lead to the purple hallway, she reminded herself, thinking again about the old mouse who had been venturing away from the purple hallway on his “quest” to find his birthplace. I’ll tell you where to find Mouse City. His words echoed in her mind, drawing her in.
                 “Tell me more,” she had said. He had given her orders to climb the stars, go down the purple hallway and look for the cracked tile in the back corner of the last room.
                 “Go in the tile’s crack, and then, you’ll land on an old cotton ball. Then, you’ll be in Mouse City!” he had promised her.
                 Thinking about the tabby cat who lurked around in the shadows of the University Center, Harp shivered with fear and hurried over to the tall, smooth stairs. As she looked up at the first one, she gulped. The stairs that loomed over her looked really hard to climb.
                 “Oh, well!” she squeaked, leaping up to the first stair.
                 She worked vigorously, and although she rested often, an hour later she crouched triumphantly at the top. Just as she saw the purple hallway, she heard trouble.
                 “Meow!”
                 Whiskers! Harp realized, glancing over her shoulder. Whiskers, a golden-eyed tabby cat, was bounding up the stairs, his whiskers taunt and his eyes wide. Harp scurried across the large atrium and down the huge, wide hallway that had purple paint on its smooth walls. She could hear the soft “pat, pat, pat” of Whiskers’ furry paws as he stalked her.
                 Harp began to race for the end of the hallway. The pat, pat, pat noise grew faster. The brown mouse risked a glance over her shoulder. Whiskers was in the air and heading down for her. Harp gasped and stopped running. Whiskers landed in front of her.
                 “Rrrreeeeoooww!”
                 Harp turned and ran back toward the atrium. Whiskers was gaining on her! Harp swerved a striped paw and skittered to a halt. Whiskers slid on the slick tile floor. Harp raced under him and back toward the promised crack in the tile. Whiskers was turning around, ready to pursue. Then, Harp reached the crack.
                 Whiskers hissed as he drew up to her. She began to squeeze through the crack as she picked up the sound of Whiskers’ claws sliding out. Then, she felt claws sliding through her fur, barely missing her flesh.
                 Suddenly, she slid through and landed on an old cotton ball. A swirl of dust rose in the darkness, gray and misty. Looking up, she realized that Whiskers couldn’t get her. She was safe.
                 “Ha!” she cried. “Na, na, na, na, na! You can’t eat me!”
                 Harp froze. A piece of tile, smooth but with jagged edges, fell through the hole, barely missing her small, pink nose. Looking up slowly, she saw a bigger beam of light than before and realized what was happening. Whiskers was pulling away the tile to get her!
                 “Well, then, I’ll just be going,” muttered Harp, edging away.
                 “Reow!” Whiskers exclaimed, digging his claws into the tile.
                 “What are you doing?”
                 Harp turned. Before her stood a large-eyed, white mouse.
                 “Whiskers is trying to get me by pulling off the tile!” Harp squeaked.
                 “Follow me. There’s a side exit,” the white mouse replied, turning away.
                 Harp followed the mouse down winding streets full of sleeping mice in small, plastic cans and plastic bags that smelled of chips. “So, what’s your name?”
                 “Thistle. You’re Harp, right?” the white mouse answered.
                 “Yes . . .” Harp trailed off, confused.
                 “I used to live near your home. Remember me, the little white mouse that disappeared a while back?” asked Thistle.
                 “Oh, yes!” Harp squeaked. “Now I do!”
                 Soon, Thistle and Harp were back in the atrium, sitting in front of a small, terracada pot with a fake plant in it. Both knew that there was an entrance to Mouse City underneath, but they were the only two. As Whiskers continued to dig at the tile, they quietly trotted down the yellow hallway to go find a home of their own.

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