Large Sticky Rat Traps Novels & Stories

No, I can't be thinking that, then can anyone tell me why I was stuck in a fucking trap, this is too much. I tried moving around to see if I could free myself but it just got worst because the movement made the trap move down a little like it was going to drop me but left me still hanging on the air and I didn't know how high up I was, I didn't want to break any bones. I again tried for anything that could free me but came up with nothing, at this point in time I was near tears and the ideas my mind was building wasn't at all pleasing.

the 4 big rats are glaring at us and squeaking loudly! "what should we do!?"- Art "stay focus!"- Bobby those 4 rats are creating commotion and loud noise!! "We should get rid of them before they attract some zombies!"- Jimboy Art quickly move and attack the rats but the big rats are fast! in just a second it already passed Art! "Woaah!"- Art and one of the big rats slams its body to the right side of Art!

Deep bite marks were gouged into the cylinder, causing its edges to curl. I pushed the door open, and a nauseating stench hit me. The bed was piled high with rotting, blackened meat, dripping entrails, and several gutted rats. Apart from that, a yellow fluid had also soaked through the bedding. The walls were also covered in bright red lipstick scrawls—"Harlot", "Tart", "Free Breeding Center". And next to the words were a few crude drawings. My roommate had already moved out, leaving only a note on her empty bed.

As I reached there, my trembling hand fumbled for a moment, searching in the gloom, then found the cold, greasy switch and flipped it. Light flickered on, harsh and yellow, like a sick, sickly glow, revealing the horror within. I beheld it, and a scream tore from my throat, raw and involuntary, filled with pure revulsion. Rats, not small ones, but big as small cats, with beady, malevolent eyes and twitching whiskers, jumped out from the stained, grimy bathtub, scattering in every direction, their little claws scraping on the decaying porcelain. Cockroaches, dark and shiny, scurried across the filthy, cracked tiles, disappearing into cracks in the crumbling walls, a disgusting, moving carpet

“I don’t see any rats, Paul, just… what was that little black thing across the street?” “Uh-huh, you see it too! Thousands of them! It looks like little black rats or something, they just… skitter.” In the moonlight, they caught a glimpse of one of the little black things. “That ain’t no rat Paul, they’re… they’re… they’re huge cockroaches! Huge goddamn cockroaches!” “Go! Let’s go!” A sick, crunching sound could be heard as their tires rolled over the giant bugs. Green goo squirted out of the huge cockroaches as they crushed beneath the bicycle tires.

Suddenly, the howls stopped and the night became dead silent, even the cicadas and crickets were silent. Something in my head told me it was a trap–the beast hadn't gone, it was still there and was waiting for me to stupidly come out. But luckily, i wasn't stupid. As I waited patiently between the rocks, I felt something run past my leg. I looked down and I saw a large rat. Despite my irritation, I knew that I had to bear it. As I raised my head up, in attempt to forget about the rat, another equally large rat crawled on my feet. It didn't run past me like the other one, instead it stayed on my feet and began sniffing. With irritation, I kicked the rat away and it squeaked loudly.

Jax whispered. “There is metal littered all over this field.” He nodded, and I released him, keeping the others in stasis. Jax picked up a large stick and began to poke the ground. A large steel-clawed trap snapped off the end of the stick. “Bear traps. These are lethal. Maximum damage.” Jax tripped ten of them immediately around us, having to collect another stick.” “Can you see them?”

If that doesn't work, we have other options. I hovered in the doorway, equal parts fascinated and repulsed as Marco positioned a small metal box with cheese at one end of the dresser while Gene manipulated his strange device at the other end. “They usually bolt for the darkest corner,” Gene explained. “As if on cue, there was a scuffling sound, and suddenly the rat darted out, heading straight for Marco's trap. The metal door snapped shut and trapped the rat in. “Got him.” Marco announced triumphantly, lifting the trap to reveal the now-captured rodent. The creature scurried frantically inside its metal prison.

I crouched down and looked behind the toilet. A rat. Small one, probably came up through the pipes. "It's just a rat," I said. "Just a rat?" Her voice went up. "Get it out. Please get it out." I grabbed a towel and managed to trap the thing, carried it out to the dumpster behind the building. When I came back upstairs Mira was standing on the couch, arms wrapped around herself. "Is it gone?" "It's gone." She climbed down slowly, checking the floor like more might appear. "What if there are more?"

Scritch. I don't mind the rats. Rats are survivors. Rats know when to hide. I find a service alley behind a restaurant. It is dark, narrow, and smells of rancid frying oil. A dumpster blocks the view from the main road. Behind the dumpster is a heavy iron grate set into the pavement. I kneel in the muck. The water soaks my jeans instantly. The cold slime seeps through the denim, touching my skin. I grip the iron bars. They are freezing. Slick with oil and rain.