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WW: Bunny Stories & Poem Competition

Tamsin

Tamsin

Administrator
Staff member
This competition is for the RU writers (typers?).

1) Entries must be original and not published elsewhere.
2) Entries must be in English and under 500 words.
3) Entries must be related to rabbits in some way.
4) Entries can be in any style and in poetry or prose.

Entries in by 8pm Sunday.

If you're a little shy, you are welcome to PM me your entry and I'll post it anonymously for you :)
 
Umm, I guess you can count the title separately ... but no ridiculously long titles :lol:
 
When my son is seven I buy him a rabbit.

I don't plan to. I ask what he wants for his birthday and he says a pet. I was thinking a hamster or a goldfish – I'm not really much of an animal lover – but Blake pulls me over to the rabbit pen, eyes shining with excitement.

“That's him! Look Mummy, his name's Jumpy. He wants to live with us.”

And how can I say no to that face, those eyes already so full of love?

So this tiny scrap with those ridiculous floppy ears comes home. Blake cries when I drag the hutch into the garden.

“Mummy, no, he'll be lonely and sad and scared out here!”

I put the hutch in the living room.

Two weeks later I'm ordering gourmet hay on the Internet. We learn to identify wild plants and collect tasty leaves for Jumpy on our walk home from school. We do feeding and cleaning together every day. Jumpy now has two blankets, five litter trays, his own shelf in the fridge for (organic) vegetables, almost as many toys as Blake, and the run of the house. But his favourite place is under Blake's bed.

Jumpy lives up to his name, careering around the house performing incredible leaps, kicking up his heels in joyous abandon. We watch for hours, Blake's delighted giggles replacing the now-forgotten blare of the television.

We drive home early from a holiday after approximately six hours in Cornwall because Blake can't stand the idea of the rabbit missing him.

A day out with his father ends in an argument after a joke about cooking Jumpy in a pie. The man I once loved tells me he's sick of hearing about that stupid rabbit all the time, and there's a bitter edge to his voice. Bitterness, from a man who chose to leave us for her.

That night Blake wakes shaking and sweating from a nightmare, rabbit snuggled next to him. I rock my terrified son, and he sobs over and over, “Don't let him hurt Jumpy.”



I take a toy rabbit with Blake to the hospital. He cuddles it dutifully, but it's no substitute. The photograph of them together - big blue eyes and big brown eyes grinning for the camera - is better, and he clings to it like he can't let go. I cling to him. I don't want to let go either.

But I go home and feed Jumpy and watch TV with the sound off in the dark and wait for my son to be healed so he can come home. We both wait.



Later I find a letter under his pillow. The word “Mummy” screws my heart up like it's a ruined piece of paper.

Mummy
when i am gon Jumpy will be sad plees take care of him and love him dont forgot his hey and warter
he likes if you strok his eers
i love u both
Blake xxx​

I sit on my son's bed with his best friend beside me. And I stroke his ears.
 
Wow that moved me to tears!! Wonderful!


Silverleaf said:
I don't plan to. I ask what he wants for his birthday and he says a pet. I was thinking a hamster or a goldfish – I'm not really much of an animal lover – but Blake pulls me over to the rabbit pen, eyes shining with excitement.

“That's him! Look Mummy, his name's Jumpy. He wants to live with us.”

And how can I say no to that face, those eyes already so full of love?

So this tiny scrap with those ridiculous floppy ears comes home. Blake cries when I drag the hutch into the garden.

“Mummy, no, he'll be lonely and sad and scared out here!”

I put the hutch in the living room.

Two weeks later I'm ordering gourmet hay on the Internet. We learn to identify wild plants and collect tasty leaves for Jumpy on our walk home from school. We do feeding and cleaning together every day. Jumpy now has two blankets, five litter trays, his own shelf in the fridge for (organic) vegetables, almost as many toys as Blake, and the run of the house. But his favourite place is under Blake's bed.

Jumpy lives up to his name, careering around the house performing incredible leaps, kicking up his heels in joyous abandon. We watch for hours, Blake's delighted giggles replacing the now-forgotten blare of the television.

We drive home early from a holiday after approximately six hours in Cornwall because Blake can't stand the idea of the rabbit missing him.

A day out with his father ends in an argument after a joke about cooking Jumpy in a pie. The man I once loved tells me he's sick of hearing about that stupid rabbit all the time, and there's a bitter edge to his voice. Bitterness, from a man who chose to leave us for her.

That night Blake wakes shaking and sweating from a nightmare, rabbit snuggled next to him. I rock my terrified son, and he sobs over and over, “Don't let him hurt Jumpy.”



I take a toy rabbit with Blake to the hospital. He cuddles it dutifully, but it's no substitute. The photograph of them together - big blue eyes and big brown eyes grinning for the camera - is better, and he clings to it like he can't let go. I cling to him. I don't want to let go either.

But I go home and feed Jumpy and watch TV with the sound off in the dark and wait for my son to be healed so he can come home. We both wait.



Later I find a letter under his pillow. The word “Mummy” screws my heart up like it's a ruined piece of paper.

Mummy
when i am gon Jumpy will be sad plees take care of him and love him dont forgot his hey and warter
he likes if you strok his eers
i love u both
Blake xxx​

I sit on my son's bed with his best friend beside me. And I stroke his ears.
Click to expand...
 
Boris’ story
A black shape flitted across the garden. Frightened dark brown eyes searching and grand ears listening, weary legs finding shelter under a child’s slide. Darkness fell again and days passed, but one morning brought with it something new. A voice was heard, a kind voice calling, offering food and hope; the shy rabbit crept out of its hide and into warm arms.
The rabbit grew stronger and gained confidence, he learned he liked humans, especially a girl who gave him food, a bed, space and gave him a home with love and a new name, Boris. Even when the girl took him to a new place, a place with scary noises and smells where another human prodded and poked him he knew he was safe and the girl would protect him. He learned he got lots of fuss and treats after visiting the scary place and was told it was for his own good so it wasn’t that bad and he was soon home again. He spent two years with the girl, binkying and doing bunny 500’s around the room occupied much of his time, alongside sleeping in his spot on the bed, by the window, next to the heater. He took trips into the garden and always stuck close to the girl, enjoying feeling the sunshine on his sleek black fur as he enjoyed nose rubs and ear strokes, content as he could be, as was the girl.
But as time went by he grew tired, dark brown eyes showed something was wrong. The scary place became one he knew almost as much as home where the girl desperately tried to make him feel well again, telling him she needed him. But he needed her to know that he was ready. The last day brought all his favourite things, cuddles on the bed, dandelions, grass, carrot, banana and company from the girl and her family. The scary place had become much less scary, knowing he was brought there because he was loved, and it was there he said goodbye as the girl held him and told him just how much he was loved as his story with her ended as she cried.
But for Boris a new story had begun, at Rainbow Bridge, a place he felt strong again where he could binky and complete bunny 500’s once more. A place where he found the love of many other rabbits, but his main love was missing. The love of the girl. He knew though, not to be sad, as she had told him one day they will meet again. So here he will wait. Always missed, and always loved. Boris.
 
Terror

He froze, petrified. His lop ears stiffened as he stared across the garden. He could feel his heart pounding within his body whilst his gentle, pink nose twitched repeatedly. His back legs had risen and his giant back paws had pulled themselves forward: an involuntary reaction to the terror which now pulsed through him. His brown eyes- normally so relaxed and warm- were wide with fear.

He thought about thumping, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to lift those powerful back legs in case the predator noticed the movement. He thought about fleeing, about dashing across the lawn to the safety offered by his sturdy wooden run. But again, he couldn't. He was literally fixed to the spot, trapped by his body's reaction to the danger which lay across the moist grass.

Despite his poor eyesight, he thought he glimpsed a patch of red ominously sitting above the beady eyes that were staring, fascinated by the sight of his sleek fur and fit body. He seemed to radiate health, a feature usually such a source of pride to him and his family, but today such an attraction to the enemy only ten metres away.
He tried to concentrate on the smells wafting towards his nose, but to his frustration next door's barbeque fumes were all he could sense. Perhaps it was these that had brought this unwanted, ugly, red-headed creature to his garden.

Moments passed. Time seemed to slow down, and the world shrunk to only the sensations felt by his own body. He felt his initial fear subside a little, enough for rational thought to return gradually, its advent bringing with it a slight soothing of the palpable dread which had possessed him.

BANG!

His back feet slammed down with all his strength, loud even on the turfed surface beneath him. He raced forward, with a speed he didn't know he was capable of. He dived into his run and sought shelter in his hideaway, catching his companion's cheek in the process. She too suddenly tensed, sensing his fear and racing heartbeat as he snuggled up to her.

They both froze. Waiting. But nothing out of the ordinary reached their soft, long ears.

Time once again sped up, the normal sounds of the garden again became apparent. Knives started to scrape along plates next door and seagulls squawked from above. They listened. No warning calls. Perhaps this was just a false alarm.

Time passed and they relaxed. They snuggled up together in their shelter. After a while their back legs flopped out as they realised the danger had passed.

Across the lawn, the predator sat. His beady eyes still fixed on the spot the rabbit had been occupying only a few minutes before. His red head glistened in the afternoon sun and a spider crawled across his white beard, pulling a thread along from the fishing rod angled out beyond the toadstool.
 
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Not my best work, but I felt compelled to enter nevertheless.

Life

Busy paws scratch at the sawdust. The nose twitches at a mile a minute. He pauses, ears alert at the sound of the front door slamming shut. Footsteps stomp past him.

Past, but never stopping.

That’s the way it always is. They never have time for it.

He wraps his teeth around the metal bars and chews. The whole cage rattles. If only he could just release the entrance, then maybe, just maybe, he could make his escape.

It’s been so long since he was able to run, so long since he could stretch his legs. It’s all he wants; all he dreams of.

But dreams are just dreams when given no chances.

Especially for something that has only been referred to as ‘it’ for so long.

Have you fed it? Have you cleaned it out? Will you stop it from making that damned noise?

There was a time, when he was smaller, when this cage didn’t feel quite so much of a jail cell. When they actually paid him attention. They called him a name, a nice name, but he can’t remember it. Their long, pendulous fingers would rub his nose and play with his ears twixt their strange, bare fingertips. He liked that feeling. It made him feel less alone. Sometimes, he almost thought they understood what he was trying to say. They’d give him sweet treats and let him out to run.

But how long has it been since they last did that? How long has it been since he was last treated with more than just casual disdain?

He might as well be an ‘it’. There’s no point in wanting to live if nobody cares. Instinct says he should but his soul is saying otherwise.



Eventually, he stops chewing the bars. Stops drinking, stops eating, stops dreaming. What’s the point when you don’t have someone to live for? The humans don’t care and he hasn’t seen another soul who truly understands him and what he says for too long now.

His legs lack the strength they once had. He knows he cannot leap like he once did, even if he wanted to. He doesn’t though. There’s no point.

Instead, he huddles in the corner of his jail. He waits. Waits for the Moon Rabbit to take him to the grassy fields of the sky.

Then, the aching back, sore limbs, and tooth pains will be long gone. When he’s with the Moon Rabbit, he’ll be free. Finally.

His eyes are closed. He faces the bars and bland magnolia wall behind it. The cage clatters open. He doesn’t flinch; doesn’t move. They might simply be chucking a limp, weeks-old carrot into the bottom of his prison cell, as an afterthought.

But a gentle hand runs along his knobbly spine and strokes down his long ears. He wheels around, lunges and bares his teeth, ready to bite.

“Easy, easy,” the voice says soothingly. He doesn’t understand the words but they calm him nevertheless. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
 
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Just to let you know, Lisa from Bunny Mad is judging the entries. I (or she) will let you know once she's picked her favourite.

Thanks for all the entries, they were amazing!
 
Tamsin said:
Just to let you know, Lisa from Bunny Mad is judging the entries. I (or she) will let you know once she's picked her favourite.

Thanks for all the entries, they were amazing!
Click to expand...

Thanks for hosting the competition! I've been inspired, I might write another one. :)
 
Wow! What fantastic stories and such a high standard... Well done everyone you should be very proud!

Did make it harder for me though! Lol!

The winner is....... silverleaf
When my son is seven I buy him a rabbit 😀

This one was just so touching and I could picture the little boy with his bunny.. and the end was perfect that letter brought tears to my eyes!

You should certainly write more as you have a good way of painting a picture and drawing the reader in.. Well done! Message me your address and I'll send you a copy of my Bunny Mad! magazine and will feature yiur story in a future magazine if you would like me too!

EVERYONE ELSE well done and bunny Mad! Magazine is always looking for stories and contributions!
 
bunny mad lisa said:
Wow! What fantastic stories and such a high standard... Well done everyone you should be very proud!

Did make it harder for me though! Lol!

The winner is....... silverleaf
When my son is seven I buy him a rabbit ��

This one was just so touching and I could picture the little boy with his bunny.. and the end was perfect that letter brought tears to my eyes!

You should certainly write more as you have a good way of painting a picture and drawing the reader in.. Well done! Message me your address and I'll send you a copy of my Bunny Mad! magazine and will feature yiur story in a future magazine if you would like me too!

EVERYONE ELSE well done and bunny Mad! Magazine is always looking for stories and contributions!
Click to expand...

Oh my goodness, seriously? But everyone else was so good! I loved reading all the entries, they were all so different and touched me in different ways.

I'm really happy that you liked my effort, thank you so much for your nice comments. I'll admit I was in tears myself when I wrote it and I guess that came through in my writing.

I don't know about anyone else, but I found the 500 words a real challenge, but it ultimately made my story better because I had to ruthlessly prune it down to the bare minimum, and it made the narrator's "voice" a lot clearer.

It was fun though, despite the crying. ;)
 
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