Many years ago, there was quite the magical rabbit and her name was Baisley. This rabbit could do many things others could not dream of: tap-dancing— usually left to the beavers,— singing— a job for birds,— and climbing tall pines that swirled above her— the squirrels’. So many extraordinary powers she had!
Baisley lived in a wonderful hole in the ground with faux fur rugs, strange abstract paintings, a grandfather clock, and a polished wooden door. Her little burrow was just outside a large field filled with colorful berries and delicate daffodils. It was hers alone and she shared with no one. Baisley just loved her life so very much!
Enter: Male Rabbit
“Hello, Lovely Rabbit. I am here to be your suitor.”
The male rabbit was a gray buck whose front teeth stuck out a little too much for Baisley’s liking. And she did not find him charming in any way because she was a magical rabbit, much better than he.
“Thank you for your offer,” she said, ready to shut the door and be done with this nonsense, “but I am much better off alone.” The buck took three hops forward and Baisley could not close the door. She did not remember the rest of that night.
Enter: Pregnancy
Pregnancy did not say, “Hello.” It filled Baisley’s belly up with tiny, juicy fetuses that sloshed around inside her. She did not like pregnancy. The male rabbit left soon after her stomach swelled. He had satisfied his urge.
Days passed and Baisley did not skip into the outside world, or whisper lullabies to the moon, or scale any cypress trees. She instead opted for lying upside down, sideways, or stretched out, on her carpets that now felt like crumbling dirt beneath her. None of the forest creatures came to visit her.
When the newborns were pushed out, blood splattered everywhere. Later she wondered how it had even reached the monochromatic canvases that hung on the wall. There were five babies. Pink and hairless. Tiny and blind. Four of them had twitching noses and warm and ugly tiny bodies. One was light blue and frozen to Baisley’s touch against its head.
She ate it. Because she had not gone into her field in such a long time and she was oh, so hungry. Its head caved like an old blueberry.
Enter: Hungry Fox
“Hello, Mrs. Rabbit. I am here to offer you meat for meat.”
Baisley was taken aback. She thumped her foot and the clicking of her shoe whistled through the air. She had never been called “Mrs. Rabbit” before, because that was a name for ordinary rabbits. And she was no ordinary rabbit. She was “Magical Rabbit.” Never “Mrs. Rabbit.” Though, she supposed it didn’t matter because she hulked above the fox, on her two feet, smoothing out ten whiskers with her front paws.
“Mrs. Rabbit,” he nudged a drenched, brown sack towards her with the tip of his moist nose, “please do take the meat. All I want is your children. I’ve been craving baby bunnies.” Baisley thought about it for a long, hard moment, turned her head ever so slightly to focus one bulging eye on the four kits, huddled in a pile of newly grown tufts of gray hair and protruding teeth. She stepped aside and let the fox in.
He dragged the bag into the small den, mouth clamped around the sandy fabric. A few shakes and the offering slid out of the bag. A slab of partially molded flesh. She recognized it as the skinned leg of something.
Baisley shuffled over to her baby bunnies that had begun to hop around only one moon ago. They looked at her expectantly, as one collective. She stepped on the biggest one with the heel of her best, black, and shiny tap-dancing shoes. The kit made a small squeal before the audible crack was heard. The thick bone of its neck stuck out, straight through its tightly wound skin. Baisley did not smile at the fox, for even magical rabbits could not smile, but she gave him a nod of assent.
“You may take them all.”
Enter: Rabbit Hunter
“Hello, Little Rabbit. I have come to shoot you!” the rabbit hunter said in a joyous tone, because having a fat rabbit to fill his gluttony made him happy, happy, happy! Baisley did not care about the new title that had been given to her. She had been slipping out of her tap-dancing shoes when the fat, crouching, and delighted man appeared in front of her burrow.
“And what will you do with my meat, human?” She clawed at her long ears that hung down around her face.
“Well, I have a little girl at home who needs it, because we are very poor and you’re our only chance at surviving the winter,” the hunter lied. Truthfully, there was no little girl and he had lots of money to buy lots of food.
But Baisley did not care what his response would be, for hers was always going to be yes.
