by Laura Bernardeschi Nelson
In the Grey Reign, team-building was not designed to build morale; it was designed to measure endurance under conditions of extreme absurdity.
It was a cold, overcast early morning when the heavy doors of the Great Stone Burrow clanged shut behind them. Madame Bulk had decreed a mandatory “Day Trip”—destination: Nowhere.
The vehicle chosen for this expedition was a battered, ten-wheel bus. To accommodate the majestic bulk of Madame Bulk, along with the heavy, armored presence of the Rhinoceros and the Hippopotamus, the company had been forced to reinforce the bus’s chassis with extra steel beams. The tires groaned beneath the sheer weight of self-importance.
Inside, the seating arrangement was a logistical nightmare.
The Rhinoceros and the Hippopotamus immediately demanded extra-large seats for their oversized hindquarters, crushing the space around them.
The Sheep caused an uproar at the door, refusing to pay the extra fare for the two pigeons currently nesting inside her towering blonde wig.
Meanwhile, the Rats, thrilled by the illusion of freedom, huddled in the back seats, imagining themselves in an epic rebellious road movie—despite sitting perfectly still in their grey uniforms.
The Pug spent the entire departure trembling with nervous exhaustion, having spent the previous night obsessively packing identical, soggy paper bags with standard-issue office biscuits. He now shuffled up and down the aisle with a wheeze, carefully clutching the lunch bags as though they were priceless cargo, even though a gentle breeze could have knocked him over.
The Crow, however, refused to board altogether. Irritated by the Rhinoceros’s booming laughter—he genuinely believed himself a brilliant comedian, despite sounding like an entire flock of crows—the Crow chose to fly peacefully above the bus instead.
The journey began under the aggressive stewardship of the Praying Mantis. Sitting rigidly upright, her limbs locked around the steering wheel in their permanent praying posture, she attacked every bend with righteous fury. As she drove, she leaned out of the window to scold passing motorists for failing to obey the rules she had invented herself.
Behind her, the mice stared anxiously through the windows. Within minutes of watching the Great Stone Burrow disappear behind them, withdrawal set in. They missed the cool, familiar glow of their blue screens. A quiet panic spread through the rows. Was this a trick? Had Madame Bulk organized the excursion simply to empty the corridors, finally tired of their endless squeaking?
When the bus eventually screeched to a halt at the beach—a desolate stretch of grey gravel—the Mantis slumped over the steering wheel and immediately fell into a deep sleep, momentarily forgetting her sacred duty to judge everyone around her.
The Rhinoceros and the Hippopotamus, eternally hungry, wasted no time. Throwing their weight around, they lined the mice up for lunch.
“I’m vegan!”
“I’m vegetarian!”
“I’m a carnivore!”
The mice squeaked hopefully.
The Rhinoceros ignored every word and shoved a greasy cheese sausage—the infamous HotCat—and a can of bitter DietGrey into each tiny paw.
The mice happily chewed their sausages, their long tails wagging with mechanical contentment.
Nearby, the Badger stepped forward. He poked a damp patch of gravel with a small twig and cleared his throat.
“I can officially confirm,” he announced gravely, “that this is an approved grade of dampness.”
Read more: The Day Trip to NowhereThis is just the beginning of the journey. Find out what happens next and unlock the full story by grabbing your copy of the book The Grey Reign
All characters and events in these stories are entirely imaginary. All rights reserved © Laura Bernardeschi Nelson.