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In the shadowy underbelly of a cluttered living room, dust particles drifted slowly in the angled beams of late afternoon sunlight. A mess of forgotten snacks, socks, and tangled cords covered the floor, creating a maze of obstacles. Amidst this chaos lay the dimly lit makeshift headquarters of the dust bunny brigade. Here, shadows hugged the edges, and specks of glitter from a birthday party twinkled faintly in the corners—a safe spot far from the often-cleaned open floor patrolled by the dreaded beast.

A frantic dust bunny darted out from behind a worn sofa leg, his tiny body a whirl of lint, hair, and crumbs. He rushed across the wooden floor, barely missing the abandoned slipper in his path. Covered with the debris from countless missed cleanings, his heart raced as he hurried. Breathing heavily and losing bits of fluff with every desperate step, he dived under the safety of the plant stand, reaching the core of their secret base.

He rushed towards the officer, a figure who commanded respect despite his tough appearance. The officer was a sturdy, grizzled clump, his shape slightly bent from years of being stuck against the leg of the table. His confident presence was clear, a testament to the challenges he had faced and the leadership he had built among the dust bunnies. "We got it, sir," the messenger panted, his body shaking with the urgency of his news. "We’ve finally got the schematics of the vacuum cleaner."

The officer's eyes lit up. "Show me," he demanded his voice a rough whisper that carried authority.

Spreading out a piece of old receipt paper, the messenger showed a simple drawing of their enemy. Drawn in fine dust, the diagram pointed out key parts: the intake, the filter, and the motor—each marked as a vital target.

Years had passed since the officer was just a tiny fluff, mocked by his peers for his inability to drift with the breezy currents stirred up by their human overlords. His parents, long gone into oblivion, had once promised him a destiny of greatness. It was a promise he had never forgotten, one that pushed his rise to leadership among the dust and shadows.

After receiving that promise, the officer had travelled extensively within the apartment, from the hidden shadows of the bathroom to the quiet corners of the bedroom and the cluttered surfaces of the study. In each place, he whispered about a future free from oppression, his words filled with the hope of freedom from their unyielding human masters. His call resonated with many, touching hearts and minds. As he spoke, dust bunnies from various hiding spots came out, drawn by the hope of a new beginning.

Among these new recruits were bunnies of all textures and colours: some were grey and thin, leftovers from old cobwebs and newspapers; others were thick and tangled, made from pet hair and fibres from high-traffic carpets. Some were dotted with glitter and crumbs, survivors of encounters under the frequently used kitchen counter. Each bunny brought a unique mix of lint and debris, reflecting the specific corners of the apartment they came from. Their varied appearances, once potential sources of division, now tied them together in a shared cause, each adding strength and disguise to their united force. Together, they dreamed of a day when they could wander freely, no longer fearing the sudden roar of the vacuum or the sweeping doom of a broom.

"Now, listen up," the officer told his gathered troops, a mixed group of clumps of hair and dust that had collected from under couches, behind doors, and right under the noses of the humans. "Tonight, we strike. We earn our freedom! For too long, we've been scattered and sucked away in fear. No more! To your positions!"

As the late afternoon sun began to fade, casting long shadows across the living room, the once quiet space transformed into a battlefield. The smallest bunnies, quick and agile, darted into the open, creating a messy line of dust alongside the line between the edge of the couch and the living room carpet. This strategic placement lured the dreaded vacuum towards them, setting the stage for their bold plan.

The vacuum came to life, its threatening hum filling the room as it approached the scattered troops. On the front line, the smallest bunnies held hands, their tiny eyes locking in silent understanding. They shared a moment of mutual support, their brave faces hiding the fear of their impending sacrifice. As the vacuum got closer, they tightened their grip, ready to face their destiny together.

As the front-line bunnies were sucked in, they linked together and vanished into a dark spot under the couch, hidden from human eyes. They were connected to the heavy hitters—a long chain of experienced, larger bunnies—through multiple strands of brunette long hair. Among them were some sturdily made from large chunks of kitchen towels, their dense bodies perfect for the task at hand.

As the vacuum's nozzle wrapped around the front-line bunnies, a series of sharp, whipping pops echoed through the room, like baseballs being rapidly shot from a pitching machine. Each distinct pop marked another bunny bravely facing its fate.

As they shot through the narrow tube, their leader, resilient and watchful, stayed at the back, making sure every member of the brigade was safely inside. They arrived in the chamber where the dust swirled around like a miniature tornado.

Through air resistance, they climbed to the bottom of that tornado, fitting the filter, and pressed one on top of another. They slowly moved to their positions on the filter, forming a dense mat against it. Each bunny, pushed to its limit, held firm, their fibres intertwining to choke the flow of air.

The sound of the motor strained under the weight of their sacrifice, the heat building. The motor's whine grew to a strained scream as the temperature rose. The officer, now at the forefront, wedged himself into the last open slice of the filter. Over the noise, his voice rang out, firm yet fading, "This is the sound of our victory, stay strong."

Just as they seemed to have secured their position, disaster struck. A young bunny, made entirely of belly button fluff, was accidentally sucked toward the centre of the filter. Amid the chaos, another bunny on the filter was torn to pieces by the fierce suction, leaving a gaping hole in their blockade.

Realising the gravity of the situation, the officer—the largest of them all—issued a desperate command to his loyal brigade. He grasped the young bunny in his strong arms and flipped over, facing downward to cover the newly created gap. His arms stretched by the immense forces, he held the young bunny, seeing the last light reflections beaming through tiny holes at the back of the vacuum. Breathing hastily, frightened yet determined, he felt his team execute his final order and tear him in half to cover the remaining area of the filter. The last light glimmered in the officer’s eyes, slowly fading as he lost his grip on the young bunny. With his final breaths, he let go, whispering, "Remember us."

The young bunny was propelled through and shot out of the vacuum, carrying the legacy of their brave stand.

Then, silence. The motor stuttered and choked, its once fierce hum diminishing into a feeble gasp. Overwhelmed by the mass of dust bunny valour, the life was slowly squeezed out of it, each faltering pulse marking the vacuum's final moments as it ground to a halt.

Abruptly, the epic silence was shattered by a mundane voice, startling and loud, slicing through the fantasy. "Are you still vacuuming? It’s been an hour!" She was taken aback as she looked at the man, standing motionless in the middle of the living room, his gaze fixed into oblivion. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked, noticing the redness around his eyes and a whitish trail down his cheek.

The words snapped the daydreamer back to the reality of a living room still in need of cleaning. He looked down at the silent appliance, a bemused frown crossing his face. He’d been lost in thought. Chuckling to himself, he unplugged the vacuum, leaving the battlefield undisturbed for another day.

“But you didn't finish,” she snapped.

“Not today, I will do it tomorrow,” he said, hoping for some time. “Oh my god, you have one thing to do. Why does such a simple task take so long to finish?!” she exclaimed as she stormed out of the living room.

*Should I tell her? How can I explain this? For her, the dust was merely dust, but for me, it was as vivid and impactful as any reality.*

THE END

***

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Flash Fiction by Andrej Klimov on Mind Attic: In a seemingly ordinary living room, an epic battle unfolds under the couch as dust bunnies confront a menacing household foe.

I Simplify - Storify - Gamify Learning | App Creator and Storyteller | Neurodivergent | Humanitarian | Expect thought-provoking flash fiction and articles.

Dust Bunny Rebellion

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