Light was shining through my closed eyes. I could faintly hear a choir outside. Stirring, I extruded myself from my pillows and starred blankly. The morning service had begun and a small group of squirrels was huddled together, singing fervently under my window. A gray squirrel was facing them, seemingly directing the crowd, pushing the air upward as the choir was rising to its peak. It glanced behind, saw me awake and squealed a cry of triumph, bringing its followers to a joyful cheer. Ah well, this couldn't be worse than an alarm waking me up each day. Their joyful cheers followed me through my morning ablutions, making "Ohhh" as I showered and "Aaahh" as I brushed my teeth, their gaze following me, window to window. This was starting to get old. After breakfast, I stepped outside, distributed their daily supply of grains and bread. I watched them make a queue in front of the distributor, signing themselves as each one took their share. Some people would have left them to fend for themselves, to go back to their own wild state so they would be less dependent. I had decided to make use of this situation. An army of rodents was not given to everyone. Like every morning, I saw my old neighbor's dog sniffing around my lawn. I looked at the closest believer, made a clacking song with my tongue and nodded in the direction of the dog. It gave a sharp nod, signed itself, braced and dashed towards the canine, squealing at the top of its tiny lungs. The dog rushed after it, barking furiously as its owner was yanked forward. "Hi Miss Pincher!" I greeted cheerfully, the rodent luring the dog away from my precious lawn. One day, I told myself, she would learn to pick up after her damn thing. While I was continuing the morning ceremony, I saw the believer come back, breathless with a few hairs missing from its tail. After I threw it some extra corn, it bowed and withdrew to one of the trees to eat in peace. Its days deed was done. This went on for a few more weeks, every morning, a new devotee throwing its life at the canine so it would not poop on my lawn. They would always come back, out of breath, but happy to see they had pleased their god. One morning I nodded towards the dog and then realized the devotee was the old gray choir leader. It was too late to turn back. The old one was already on its way out, too slow. It took but one bite to finish it off. I turned in horror and saw my devotee's face in shock, their gaze alternating between the dog's dripping mouth and me. I tried to say something, but was met with their backs, leaving me alone in my backyard. That evening, when I came back from work, red lights were shimmering behind my house and fervent squeaks could be faintly heard. As I traversed the house to see what was going on, I felt a sharp hit behind my head and the lights slowly fading away. Light was shining through my closed eyes. I could faintly hear a chant outside. Stirring, I found myself bounded, wood pressing hard against my back. My eyes jerked open, remembering the blow to my head. I was bound to a stack of wood, tiny paws holding torches surrounding me. A buzz was filling the place, louder and louder. The torches were slowly approaching. I distinguished a new shrine, depicting Miss Pincher, made of bread crumbs. I could almost distinguish the fanatic's words. Sacrifice... Burn... Sacrifice... Burn... Burn...

First prompt, comments welcomed! English is not my mother tongue.