Winner - Katy Wimhurst

The Giant Rabbits of Pinecone Park

By Katy Wimhurst

‘How come they’re huge?’ said Allie.

‘Who knows?’ I said.

Three rabbits, each over 50cm tall, were nibbling the grass in the middle of Pinecone
Park. We stopped to gawk but the white-furred animals ignored us.

‘I wonder where they’re from,’ said Allie.

‘Who knows?’ I said.

She fixed me with her green eyes. ‘You’re doing it again, Aero brain.’

I shrugged. It bugged her whenever I said ‘who knows’, which to be honest I did a
lot. We’d been friends for donkey’s years, having originally met at school, and we
knew each other’s foibles too well.

‘Maybe they’ve appeared because it’s Easter soon,’ she said.

‘Maybe.’ It wouldn’t be the first time odd things had happened in this park. A year
ago, the daffodils had sprouted to a metre tall and six months before that, four
fifteen-centimetre eggs had miraculously turned up, eventually cracking to reveal
huge chicks which lasted a week before some dog got to them. Perhaps jumbo
rabbits were another of the park’s mysteries.

Two children approached the huddling animals, calling, ‘Here, bunny, bunny.’

The animals hunched closer, one squeaking in fright.

‘Leave them be,’ I called out. The children glanced at me and nodded to show they’d
heard.

‘Come on,’ said Allie. ‘We don’t want Mars Bar Mussolini to tell us off.’ That was our
pet name for Mr Mullins, our supervisor.

Chocolate World was in the industrial estate on the north side of Pinecone Park. We
were both production operators, a fancy name for factory workers. Most days, Allie
and I met at the park gates and walked to work together.

Inside the factory, we put on our uniforms. Even Allie’s petite body looked dumpy in
the blue hygiene coat. As she scraped her long dark fringe back into the green hair
net, I noticed her kohl-lined eyes were slightly bloodshot.

‘You okay?’ I asked.

‘Just tired. Trev woke me up at 1 am when he came home pissed. And he wanted
to—you know.’ Her plucked eyebrows raised.

They’d been together for five years and he wasn’t the most responsible bloke. ‘He’ll
grow up one day.’

‘But do I want him to?’ She flashed her cheeky grin, revealing the slight gap between
her two front teeth.

That afternoon, when Allie and I walked home from work, there were five rabbits in
the park. The trio were joined by two greys, one of which looked like a youngster.

Word must have spread through the city about the rabbits because a small crowd
was gathered. Two little girls in school uniforms approached the animals with carrot
batons, which they crept up to accept and then scurried away to eat.

‘Their ears look so soft,’ said Allie. ‘Think I’ll go over and try to stroke one.’

‘You’ll just freak the poor things out.’

She walked over, but the rabbits hopped away.

‘See?’ I said when she returned.

Ignoring me, she said, ‘Trev is going to think this is so cool.’ He was an animal lover
like her.

On Saturday, there were a dozen rabbits on the grass. It was a chilly May day and
they were clustered together in a duvet of fur.

Trev, who was with us, told us he’d been reading theories on social media about
where they’d come from. ‘Some folks think they escaped from a dodgy facility doing
animal experiments. Others claim they’re genetic mutants. One old hippy geezer
believes they’re a message from the spirit world.’

‘A message saying what?’ I said.

‘Fudge knows,’ he said and chuckled. Trev, over six feet tall and with a blonde quiff,
was quick to laugh.

‘I don’t buy any of those theories,’ I said.

‘So tell us, Curly Wurly bonce, what’s yours?’ Allie asked.

‘Who knows?’

Allie shook her head at me in mock disapproval.

The rabbits had become more confident, hopping up to passing kids to see if they
had carrots or snacks and sniffing at small dogs. One group of three was dozing and
a young boy was sitting by them, stroking one’s back.

‘I’d like to pet the rabbits too,’ said Allie.

‘If you do, mind the poo,’ I said.

That was the size and shape of large marbles. There was a lot of it and a council
worker came every few days to clear it off the grass.

The rabbits were attracting the local religious nuts, too. A bald man in a tweed jacket
held a sign: These Rabbits are God’s Miracle.

I pointed out the sign to Allie and Trev and we all cracked up. The man, who must
have overheard, shot us a dirty look.

‘Come on, you two.’ Allie dragged us closer to the animals.

I got near enough to one to run my hand along its white back. ‘You’re beautiful,’ I
said.

Allie petted a grey one and Trev stroked the ears of a youngster. ‘This is wicked
therapy,’ he said.

‘And you need therapy,’ said Allie.

‘We all do,’ he said and smiled.

As Easter approached, the rabbits multiplied quickly. There were twenty, then forty,
then over a hundred. Various colours and sizes, both youngsters and adults.
Sometimes a number spilled out of the park and into the industrial estate where
Chocolate World was. When Allie and I popped outside the factory for a fag break
one day, two sneaked inside via the door we’d left open. I guided them out, waving
my arms, but Mars Bar Mussolini saw and he banned all outside breaks for the next
week, which meant no smoking.

‘What a Flake fascist,’ muttered Allie.

‘What did you say?’ Mars Bar Mussolini, a thin, bald man, was an expert in being
grumpy.

‘I said, I like the rabbits,’ she lied.

‘Get back to work.’

The next morning, Allie texted at 7am to say she’d woken to some in her living room.
You couldn’t pop over and help, could you? Please, Maggie. X

She and Trev lived nearby in a tiny flat. The place was always a mess and
everywhere were dirty mugs, empty beer cans, and pizza boxes.

‘Holy Toblerone.’ I stared at the five huge rabbits on the living room carpet. ‘How did
they get in?’

‘Trev came back pissed again late last night and opened the French doors for some
reason. He left for work earlier, leaving me to deal. How do I get rid of them?’

I picked one up, which didn’t struggle. ‘It’s so heavy.’ My arm muscles strained as I
carried it outside. After putting it down, I gave it a stroke and it just sat there. Five
minutes later, we got them all outside. ‘Shoo now.’ I waved my hands. They hopped
off down the road.

‘That was easier than I thought,’ Allie said. ‘Ta for helping.’

Just before Easter weekend, even more rabbits appeared in the park. Someone on
the local radio claimed they’d counted over two hundred. Living in a third-floor flat-
share which overlooked the park, I could see the furry sprawl. I stared out,
wondering: how many more? The sheer number of rabbits put me on edge. I
remembered a dream in which I was drowning in a sea of them, suffocating in fur.

Attitudes to the rabbits hardened in the city. Before, most people had been curious or
thrilled. Now, many complained; demanded the council do something; even swore at
the animals or pushed them aside. Some elderly folk stopped going to the park for
fear of tripping over them. It wasn’t uncommon to come across a few rabbits in an
aisle at Tescos.

Allie said that we had to get used to all the rabbits. ‘It’s just how things are now.’

‘I thought I was the philosophical one,’ I said.

‘I love that ours is a city with giant rabbits.’

‘But where will it all end?’

‘Who cares, Twix features? Just enjoy it.’

I couldn’t, though. Things were too strange and I was having more nightmares about
rabbits.

Melanie, a co-worker at the factory, told us she’d intended to put her flat on the
market and move to a less rabbit-infested area of the city, but the estate agents had
said that little was selling in the park’s vicinity. Krish, another co-worker, moaned
constantly: ‘I used to run every evening in the park; not now. It’s filthy—rabbit
droppings everywhere—and all those bloody critters. They should be sent off to be
used for pet food.’

‘Quite the Turkish Delight, aren’t you?’ Allie said sarcastically.

One morning, during our walk to work, Allie and I found four rabbits bludgeoned to
death. My gut heaved at the pools of blood. ‘Who could do this?’

‘You don’t think it was Krish, do you?’

‘He’s a moaner, but I don’t think he’s a psychopath.’

Two days later, the same thing happened. Five were dead this time. ‘This is horrible.
Trev will do his nut,’ said Allie.

I slept badly that night, and waiting for Allie at the park gates the next morning, my
gut was tight with tension.

On Saturday, Alllie, Trev and I spent all day taking rabbits from the park. We bundled
them in groups of four into the back seat and boot of my car and then drove out of
the city, leaving them in a clearing on the edge of Prior Woods

‘You think foxes will get them here?’ Trev asked.

‘Who knows?’ I said.

‘Forty creatures this size should be a match for foxes,’ Allie said.

By the following weekend, which was Easter, there were more rabbits than ever in
the park.

‘Back with a vengeance,’ said Allie.

On the Tuesday after Easter, Krish told Allie and I that he’d heard a rumour the
council finally intended to do something.

‘They better not hurt them,’ said Allie.

Later that week, two lorries were parked by the park gates, with their back ramps
down. We asked one of the drivers if they were there to take the rabbits away, but he
refused to say. Workmen were also erecting a wire mesh fence inside the park’s
wall.

By the time we got out of work, the rabbits had gone. A young boy was crying
inconsolably. ‘Where are the rabbits? Where are the rabbits?’

‘Why is everything magical taken from us, eventually? And don’t you dare say, ‘who
knows’?’ Allie bit her lower lip.

I said nothing. A return to normality felt like a relief.

For several days, Allie was so low in spirits that she didn’t even use her pet
chocolate insults for me.

Three weeks later, though, she stopped walking and looked up at a tree in the park,
then clapped her hands excitedly.

Three sky-blue butterflies, with a wingspan as long as a ruler, were fluttering there.

[Ends]