Writing: Is done better than perfect?

Here is a poorly written story. I've put it through Grammarly, tidied up formatting(somewhat), and it's still flawed, amateurish. I like that I finished it. In school, I used to be able to adapt and write whatever was needed for the assignment. Now I have a block when it comes to fiction.I'm not saying what I wrote was any good, but I was able to do. Everything I write now seems to be about my family. The odds of them reading any of my pieces are slim, yet it makes me anxious. Writers on Medium block family members or stop writing about family members due to siblings having different experiences of that person. In my case, the same family members, who have been ignoring you all evening, suddenly have a burning need to find out what you're writing or typing. Or must have your undivided attention now that you're engaged. This throws me off, on Medium, they keep writing, telling their truth
I wonder if I need to practice more, read more or just stop writing. It's not something I expect to make a living from. Or is it just enough to do it because you kind of like it? Anyway, this is bad, but it's finished. I have to post before I get interrupted one more time.

The Visitors

Emily could hear them scratching and scraping, scritch scratch, scratch, scuttling about in the attic. She hadn’t heard them for weeks. Still, she had lain awake, listening. It had been comforting to have another presence in the house. She couldn’t sleep anyway. She occupied herself by wondering what they were up to. Feeding or fornicating, masticating and multiplying, dying and desiccating?.’’ Their lives are so much simpler than humans’’ she thought enviously.

Angela from next-door said ‘’Dirty beggars ‘’. ‘’My Niall,’’   she preened ‘’ put up traps.  But they keep disappearing ‘’She never tired of reminding Emily about ’’My Niall’’, whose closest relatives were vegetables. ‘’It’s from people not getting rid of their rubbish properly’’ she sniffed at Emily. She didn’t approve of Emily’s composting.

She would approve even less if she knew Emily had been feeding them. She had been worried when she didn’t hear anything. Curiosity overwhelmed her more cautious nature. She got a ladder her father had used for DIY and a flash lamp. She was also equipped with a pair of swimming goggles and a thick scarf. Well, she knew she didn’t pose any threat but did they?.  She carefully ascended the ladder and inched open the attic door. Eight  pairs of eyes glowed in the dark, she could make

out the outline of their bodies. ‘’Rather large for rats’’ Emily thought  But then again she had only ever seen them on The Discovery Channel. She gently closed the door so as not to frighten them. Even though she got the feeling, she was warier of them than they of her.

The following night she had fed them for the first time. She had enticed them to the door with some cheese. They relished it so much they nearly took her fingers with it.’’ It’s my own fault ‘’, she thought ’’ I’ll wear gloves next time‘’. As time went on, Mr.Smith, owner of the local supermarket, had teased her about not having a man. ‘’ All that food can’t be just for you’’ he chuckled. ‘’Come on, who is it then ?’’. Emily had blushed, Mr Smith took this as confirmation. ‘’Oh well’’ Emily said to herself ‘’ It’s better than having to explain’’.
At home, she didn’t bother to unpack the shopping. She donned a jacket her dad had used when he was welding. And his protective face gear. She carried the gloves in her teeth, it was cumbersome enough climbing up the ladder with the shopping.
Balancing the bags between her and the ladder, she put on her gloves. She lifted the door just enough to pitch a loaf of bread into the depths of the attic. She heard them galloping towards it. Quickly she threw the remaining five loaves, one joint of ham and a Swiss chocolate roll into the attack. She listened to them gnawing on the bone. Removing he gloves, and sat down to her tea.  Smiling to herself  she thought ‘’It’s so nice not to have to eat alone.’’

Angela from next door was leaning on her fence when Emily came back from the supermarket. She eyed Emily suspiciously, ’’Throwing a dinner party ?’’. ’’Yes, yes I am‘’  gasped  Emily. It was hard work pushing a full trolley. Adding when she caught her breath ‘’ Some distant cousins you wouldn’t know them’’. Angela had lost interest, ‘’My Niall is taking me out’’ she continued. ‘’ Can’t have me cooking where there are rats’’.Which was a bit rich, Emily thought, considering Angela was on first name terms with all the local takeaways. ‘’ Anyway, Exterminate are coming,  councils sending a plasterer to fix my ceiling. The cracks are getting  bigger.’’Emily abandoned her trolley as Angela wittered on. Maybe she could clean up the poison before they ate it. She threw on her gear it and clambered up the ladder.

Flinging open the attic door, she switched on her flash lamp.‘ ’Where had she seen Paws like that before? Mrs Harris’s Alsatian, that was it’’ Emily thought to herself. In her haste, she had forgotten their food. Like Pavlov’s dogs, they were salivating. She shut the attic door accidentally catching one of their tails, quickly opening it again at the loud protest. She would just have to apologise to Angela for playing her ’’Sounds of the Jungle ’’ CD.  She had looked at her strangely the last time, but Emily was used to this.’ ’Time to feed them ‘’ she thought with a smile.

She let them into her living room now, but only after they had eaten. And she’d cleared All other food out into the shed across the garden. They tended to chew anything they thought might be edible. Which seemed to apply to furniture, cables and cutlery, but once they discovered these things weren’t so appetising they abandoned them. ‘’ Needed to have a clear out anyway ‘’ Emily reasoned. ‘’ Too much stuff here for one person.’’

They were so cute when they stuffed their cheeks. She thought maybe they had been someone’s abandoned pets. They were looking less and less like the rats she had seen on The  Discovery Channel.
For a start, they were gold and black in colour, and their tails were rat-like but a great deal thicker. Emily was always tripping over them, but she didn’t mind. They used them to help them balance as they watched  Skippy. She had to monitor their viewing though. The amount of rodent cursing during the Whiskas ads was loud and reached a crescendo if any other feline enemies came on screen.

The following week  Angela accosted her again on her way back from the supermarket. Emily found she could bring two trolleys if she pushed one and dragged the other one after her. ‘’ You’re cousins around again? She quizzed, ‘’ Didn’t see any of them the last time’’. ‘’ They went hiking, early, every morning’’  Emily replied. ‘’ Not back, till ’late’. ‘’ Any way, the rats are still there, they’ve short-circuited my electricity ‘’. Emily liked eating and reading by candlelight, saved on her bills, more money for food. ‘’Blew up my straighteners’’. Emily knew how much Angela valued her straighteners. The straw-like texture of her hair testified to that. ‘’ If the council finds it's your compost that’s attracting them I’ll be expecting a new one’’. she complained.
‘’They’ve called in a specialist’’. ‘’ A specialist ?’’ Emily repeated. ‘’ Yeah, they reckon they’ve become immune to the poison. Must be off, have to powder my nose before my Niall gets home’’. Emily trembled .‘’ But if he is a specialist he might like them’’. Brightening, she busied herself emptying the trolleys.

The next day a knock came to the door. He had to duck as he entered Emily’s house.‘’Your neighbour directed me here, she thinks this is the source’’. He donned a hard hat with a light on it. It barely contained his head.’’ Should get this sorted quickly’’ he said pleasantly. He ascended the groaning ladder; he was not as lithe as Emily. Before she could warn him, he flung the attic door wide open.’’ They’re more frightened of us then we are of them‘’. The Visitors rushed the door, they thought it was Emily coming to feed them.

The specialist slammed the door, and half fell down the ladder. ‘’ They’re not rrrats he stammered, ‘’ They’re Great Black Hamsters. I thought they were an urban myth’’. When he regained his composure, he informed Emily that they were a cross between an escaped hamster and a black rat. The GBH’s were ready to mate at two months and would have to six litters a year. When threatened they fight in a pack to defend themselves. They tolerated humans especially their flesh. Apparently, the hamster had developed a taste for it by regularly biting its owner before it escaped. ‘’’ Their carnivorous tendencies come the fore when they have their young. If food is scarce, they will hunt prey much bigger them’’. They had  been with Emily for about seven weeks now.’’ We’ll have to demolish the terrace, in case there are any others. They are too dangerous to take any chances’’.
Emily was miserable. ‘’ What are you so fed up about?’’ Angela from next door asked scornfully. ‘’ The council is going to rehouse us. The rats or whatever they are doing us a favour ‘’. Emily didn’t care about the house. Since her father had died, it didn’t feel like home. She had felt so alone, losing her job at the video shop hadn’t helped either. The Visitors were her only friends. What was she going to do?. She climbed the ladder for the last time. She opened the door and threw them in their last supper 10 Swiss rolls, pavlova and a box of biscuits. No point in worrying about tooth decay now.

As a girl, when she was sick of being picked on, she used to go to a cave in the mountains behind the town. She would start when it got dark. Filling her rucksack with food, beginning her trek to the hill, strewing a trail after her. Hurrying back to the house. Checking she had no food on her, opened the attic and coaxed them towards the back door. They sniffed the air cautiously. They had never been outside. They did as she hoped and followed her trail to the cave. ‘’ You’ll be safe here she whispered softly to them.

The next morning she watched through binoculars as they prepared to demolish the houses. She found she wasn’t sad to see the house go, not caring if she ever lived in a house again. She felt like she really was home, at last.

A week had passed, and all the food was gone. They would begin to breed soon. The Visitors eyed her expectantly.

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