Sunlight peeked into his abode and Skippy the squirrel sprung to life.

Palm-sized Skippy was happy, because no raven had swooped in for a bite of him today. The sun was out after many days of rain. Wiggling his terribly tiny tail, he looks at the concrete jungle that was now his home.

“Not ideal, but comfortable”, feels Skippy, scurrying down gas lines on the building, looking for some nuts.

It was never easy, being the only hard-working squirrel left here. Others had either found mythical nut farms or migrated to nuttier provinces.

Yet, what found him first were glowing lights. He had never seen such bright colours before, except when he’d landed on his head as a kid. At first he strained his ears to hear what the lights would say. But they just continued to glow.

His nut-search ends in futility, but his eyes stay on the lights. As time passed, they began to dance.

“Surely, these aren’t living things!” Fearful, he kept a safe distance.

Once darkness ate up the dreamy blue sky, he sees more of them spring up.

“How often do these guys reproduce? That’s just too many siblings!” Skippy thinks.

Shaken up by the new tenants, Skippy runs up the building. It was getting chaotic. Herds of humans. Drops of flames line their doorways. Piles of food near each window he peeks in!

“Perhaps they’re preparing for war. Lighting fires, collecting food, getting women and children together.” He muses.

Night falls. The fighting begins. Bombs rip through the night air as Skippy curls up nervously at home.

As the sky bleeds colours, a shadow grows larger on Skippy. Quivering, he peeks out to see a young human standing above him.

His mind races, “Why is he here? Did he get deserted? Did the fighting stop?”

Skippy gawks on for an answer. There isn’t one.

The boy bends to leave something at Skippy’s door, then turns and leaves.

Skippy’s whiskers tremble. He can’t believe it. Freshly picked nuts!

His suffering is over. Skippy enjoys a front-seat view to the light and sound show, chomping away.

Yet, he can’t help but wonder, “What kind of warrior stops fighting to give me food? He must be nuts!”

This post was written by Munsif

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