You Were: The Mouse

October 20, 2010

(Sorry for the small picture! I’m not sure how I screwed that up.)

When you were sixteen years old, your father was sent to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Your beautiful house was burned to the ground, and your family’s belongings were seized by the government (I’m not sure which government) and distributed among the powerful men who ran your small country. Your mother had passed away while you and your brothers were still very young. With no parents left, the three of you were packed away to an orphanage.

Few noticed when you arrived at the orphanage, and no one cared when you disappeared two days later. You traveled over fifty miles on foot to the former site of your family’s home, and spent an entire night digging in what had once been the garden. There, you uncovered the secret emergency fund your father had buried years earlier. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to rent a small apartment in the city and purchase a few humble furnishings. As soon as the rooms were in order, you helped your beloved brothers escape from the orphanage. The three of you would never live more than a block away from each other for the rest of your lives.

Shortly after you and your siblings were reunited, the papers began to follow the exploits of a daring burglar known only as The Mouse. “He” (they always assume it’s a “he” don’t they?) earned his nickname by invading homes while the wealthy owners lay asleep in their beds. None of the victims reported hearing a thing. In fact, it was weeks before some even realized they’d been robbed. The burglar was always as quiet as a mouse.

Had the local police chief been a true professional (rather than a well-connected phony), he might have spotted a pattern to the burglaries. The items that were taken didn’t truly belong to the people who’d reported them stolen. They belonged to you and your brothers. And they’d been reunited with their rightful owners.

Your career as a burglar didn’t last very long. In later years, you barely remembered it. But your brothers’ memories were much better than your own. Even after you gained worldwide fame for reforming your country’s corrupt government, your brothers still loved to tell tales of your days as The Mouse.


2 Responses to “You Were: The Mouse”

  1. Rin Says:

    Can I be next?

    P.S. I’m in love with your new book!

  2. Ewa Says:

    Great! Thanks.

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