The Human Rabbit

The Human Rabbit

By E. M. Areson

He woke up in his burrow and rolled off his side and onto his legs. The smell of Earth filled his nose and it twitched from side to side. He forced it to stop. Humans didn’t have twitchy noses. He walked to the small fragment mirror and looked at himself. He was bland.

Brown eyes and brown fur. Hair, humans have hair. He tried to stand on his back legs then looked at himself. If I walked on my back legs I’d need clothes like they had. Why aren’t they real? I would love to see a real human.

He set down on all his paws again. Looking at himself one last time. Turning he used his mouth to pull a loose leaf back into his pile of bedding. It tasted a little old in his mouth and he reminded himself to change bedding tonight. He climbed out of the burrow and blinked in the bright sun.

Hopping down a path the deer had made he hurried to the library. He couldn’t be late. Suddenly a white hoof was on the path ahead; he stopped in reverence if the unicorn. It was tall and slim but had muscles that spoke of the strength it carried. The unicorn's eyes were blue, a color he had once read human eyes had been.

“Where are you going in such a hurry small one? Surely the creatures of this forest have not need for hurry.”

He tested opening his mouth for a response but the movement was still to foreign, despite the thought that humans had once done so easily. ‘I’m going to work at the library.’ Settling to use the old communications of animals over speech.

“Once I had a friend, he predicted in jest that I would still remember things that had happened when humans were myths and books were written by rabbits. Tell me young one, it is so?” The unicorn seemed sad as she looked at him.

‘Humans are myths as far as I know, though I love reading stories about them. My job is to take the big, unusable books and make them our size. Did the humans make those books?’

“No, the books you have were undoubtedly made by Syrens. For they replaced the humans long ago before dying out themselves. And now it appears that the rabbits are the sentient creatures of the world.” The unicorn laughed a little.

‘You mean humans were real?’ He set in reverence of the knowledge the unicorn shared.

“Yes, young one. You say that you love stories about them?”

‘Yes, they were so brave and kind and good in the stories. Were they like that when they really lived.’ His ears perked up with excitement.

“They were human. They were kind and cruel. They were good and evil. They were pure and corrupt. They were brave and cowards. They were smart and dumb. They were loving and hateful. They were obsessed with what they were not, that was both their strength and downfall.”

‘Oh.’

“You wish to be like them. I see it in you.” She leaned down to him.

‘Yes, they sound so amazing in the stories.’ His ears lowered in shame.

“Don’t be ashamed. I once wanted to be human; because I loved one. But I am not human and neither are you. Don’t be ashamed of your admiration for some deserved it. But also be glad to be what you are.” With that, the unicorn touched her horn to his forehead and leap away into the brush and trees.

Photo By: Vincent van Zalinge