The Mare in the Moonlight
The moon’s reflection lit the vast pasture lands with a mystic glow. The night was cool. All other places seemed to vanish, instilling themselves into this single image. It was a night, both fretless and solacing. The moon looked upon the earth, and magic seemed, in essence, a physical form, drifting through the subtle breezes and rustling the blades of grass. All was calm, but the light shown sadly upon five figures slowly making their way toward a gate in the white picket fence.
Roy Travers led the four horses with much grief in his heart. Tears had welled in his eyes, but he walked with a certain conviction that would not be expected from such a man, saddened as he was. The horses were nervous. They could not predict where their companion was taking them nor could they understand the reasons behind his sorrow. The five figures reached the gate, and Travers released the latch on the door. Its hinges creaked open slightly as if propelled by some invisible force. Travers turned upon his horses, his last comrades in a world of loneliness. He was preparing to bid them farewell.
“I’m sorry to all of you,” he said. “I’m sorry I can no longer take of you. You will be happy in the wild. I...I have no money.” He was sobbing now, overcome by grief. “They took it all away. Now I’ve lost you too. They are coming to take me away at last.” He patted the brown stallion Fuoco on the neck. “You look after them for me.” He added, “‘specially Muriella. She is old and weak. She needs your protection.” The pain was unbearable. There was nothing more he could say. It seemed as though no human words could properly express this parting and the depths of the consequences it would have on their lives. They had been his only friends during these most difficult times.
His wife had died of cancer a couple of years back, and since then, he had lost his will to write. Watching her health fail had wrecked Travers as she battled the disease, losing ground to the blight with each passing day. Even as her last moments were fleeing, she had begun to blither nonsense about the moon and flames. Her mind was obviously tormented by her condition, and Travers decided to have her euthanized rather than witness her decline mentally as the cancer spread to the nether regions of her brain.
The mare Fressa changed with his wife’s death as well. She became more listless, almost as if she was waiting for something or someone. Travers spent more and more time in the stables with the horses his wife had cared for. He felt that they had somehow embodied his wife’s spirit almost as if, in her time spent with them, a portion of herself was left behind. What had been his life during this last couple of years was merely ethereal. It was a dream, flickering by in different states of existence. At one moment, it would possess form and definition, and at another, it remained only a primordial mist, struggling to become concrete. He had made several attempts in vain at producing literature, but the reviews were harsh and indifferent to his anguish, causing him to lose much of his revenue. Thus, he relinquished the craft entirely, knowing well that he could only live as he did for so long. And now, it was finally time. The dream, it seams, was drawing to a close, and the terrible reality was roused, taking the form of a dreary and unforgiving jail cell.
Travers opened the door to the pasture, but the horses were hesitant, still puzzling over his motives and desires. He motioned towards the open gate with his hand and gave Fuoco a gentle, reassuring pat. Fuoco pranced out the door, and the horses made their exodus, yet one remained behind. Fressa had ceased moving and looked at Travers with pity and compassion. Beneath her black hair, there was a deep emotional understanding, greater than either of the two could fully comprehend. A gentle gust lifted the forelock from her head and sent her mane into a ruffle. “Go on, its okay,” said Travers, but the dark mare simply stood there, gazing at him with sullen eyes. Suddenly, she bolted through the door and beyond the range of his sight. He stood there for a second, contemplating what he had just done and what would now be his fate. He couldn’t have let them be taken away. Who knows what would happen to them? They were his children to care for and nurture.
With this new realization, Travers left to head back to the lit stables. It had to be this way. His determination flooded back through his veins like a warm draught through a man wracked with chills. The grief and remorse still gnawed at his insides, but he knew that there was only one thing to do now. He didn’t let his pain forestall him.
The gust that had ruffled Fressa’s hair returned. A small puddle rippled, vibrating with anticipation as the current of air disturbed its crystalline surface. It seemed as if nature knew what he had committed himself to and was doing everything it could to prevent it. The moon reflected nervously off another puddle in a desperate attempt to draw in his attention. Nature was trying to tell him that she was still with him, loving and worrying for him as a mother would a child. He had suffered too much loss, and she couldn’t watch him experience yet more pain. Travers, however, payed her no heed, for nothing was going to sway him from his task. It must be this way, and like thus, it was going to end, the close of a long, twisting tragedy. There would be no more pain.
He reached the barn, and the chair was waiting patiently for him as he expected. It willed him toward it. Travers’ soul was drawn in on a phantasmagoric lure into the jaws of the beast. It lay there like a trap, ready to snap its fangs around his body and extinguish his life. Travers stood upon the chair, and the beast’s tail coiled around his neck. He felt it tight upon his throat; the rope burnt his skin. The slack drew ever tighter. He looked up through his watery eyes at the devise that would end his torment and secure his peace, a peace that could only now be acquired through death. He shut his eyes and edged forward, nearing the precipice that he would plunge into.
He opened his eyes for a brief moment and beheld a faint shape moving toward him from the mists. Almost as if a shadow herself, Fressa, the black mare, appeared to form out of the dark night as she stepped within his vision. Travers stared at her in wonder and instantly felt deep guilt. It turned in his gut and his very soul. She had caught him in his darkest moment and discovered a terrible secret. Her pupils were small. The whites were exposed, and cold sweat dripped through her hair. She shifted on her hooves. He mind was aghast as what her companion was going to do. She couldn’t have ever guessed that it would end this way. Travers, who saw her terror, regretted his every action. He could not let Fressa see him die. It would be so cruel to a creature so innocent as her to witness his betrayal.
He slackened the noose and slipped it from his neck. It dangled like a serpent in the air. For an instant, the cold air bit at his raw neck. The pain was excruciating, but vanished completely in a few seconds. He rubbed his neck where the noose had burnt him and joined the mare, stroking her tangled mane. His soft words and gentle caress eased the mare’s fright and calmed her nerves.
After several moments, Travers released her from his pacifying touch to look upon her. The black mare threw her head back and motioned for him to follow. “I’m sorry girl, I can’t,” said Travers sorrowfully, but the mare was persistent. She threw back her head again, determined to leave with his company. The pale moonlight was shining through the window onto the floor now. “You know I can’t. I don’t have anything, and you are better made for the wild than me” Then, he said to himself, “I just...wish I could somehow join you. You all have been like brothers and sisters to me...” Still, the mare motioned towards the door. Travers felt tortured. He turned his back to her to train his gaze where it hurt less to look. He saw the patch of moonlight on the ground. He leveled his gaze out the window. This was all too much for him; he couldn’t bear it. He sensed no motion from the mare and turned to coax her back into the wild.
The mare was staring into his eyes with a piercing gaze. It burned into his soul. Looking back at her, he felt so exposed. A warm, tingling sensation traveled through his body. He felt and sensed change. Bones shifted and sinews grew. His muscles expanded. They gained strength and definition, the characteristics of equines. He gritted his teeth as his tail bone pushed itself out, sprouting sleek, coarse hairs, which flicked lightly at his ankles. His stance widened as his pelvis cracked and forced him to all fours. As he fell, however, he bumped a post. A portable lantern with a burning candle teetered back and forth until it slipped from its hook. The lantern clattered in the straw. Its glass was shattered and broken.
Meanwhile, Travers felt his face push outwards. Snapping and popping bones necessitated his nose and mouth’s growth. Equine teeth developed underneath his human ones, forcing themselves upwards through his gums. His human teeth fell out, and he used his thickening tongue to feel his new set, both length and girth. As his horselike muzzle grew longer, the bridge of his nose widened. His eyes moved apart, bulging and splitting his vision in two. Pointed ears stretched up to crown his head. Travers rotated them, and as he tested their flexibility with curiosity, his lips became velvety, merging his nose with his mouth.
His neck lengthened, growing out into a noble arch of a horse. Thick strands of black hair sprouted and formed a mane, which dropped disorderly along his neck. He grunted, but the sound that came out was guttural and animalistic. His chest and back muscles expanded. Ribs snapped outwards. His shirt ripped open, and the tattered remains fell to the floor. Powerful lungs filled the void, and a strong heart pumped new blood throughout his every limb. His spine elongated as his neck had done as his back curved and organs shifted and changed. Gurgling noises were emitted from his convulsing gut, and he reeled his equine head in disgust at the ill churning sound. Nostrils flaring, he breathed in his own scent. It was sweet, but pungent, overpowering. The mare’s smell reached his nose, generating thrills of pleasure throughout his body. He felt a stirring in his developing sheath. The black mare looked at him curiously.
The final changes were taking hold now. His body tingled as thick brown hair encompassed his hide. His pants, which were already severely breached, burst open, exposing his immense buttocks to the air. His genitals were uncovered between his legs, but he felt no indecency. Instead, he felt pride as they dangled freely in the cool air. His arms and legs thinned out into boney support structures, and his tendons and muscles became discernable through his flesh. His fingers and toes hardened into hooves, merging and splicing his fingers together at the tips. Carpals and tarsals melded into cannon bones. He took deep breaths through his nostrils, filling his lungs and spewing a visible vapor into the night. He nickered quietly. His body, flanks, chest and neck expanded once more and ceased. His irises and pupils permanently widened as his last human thoughts left, drifting away with the serene breeze.
The brown stallion snorted and walked up to the mare, softly nuzzling her nose with his. He rubbed against her further. He wanted to merge his body with hers and become one. There was movement in his loins as he became more aroused by her scent and the warmth from her body. They stood there, stallion and mare, drinking in each other’s being until a sudden noise in the distance startled them. Someone was drawing near.
The stallion’s ears perked up as he stood sentinel above his mare. He glanced around, his giant eyes scanning the barn. He saw nothing, but heard a pounding, which disturbed the calm of the night. He was agitated by the intruder because this was his moment, his world. He was courting his mare.
Finally, the stallion exhaled in defeat. There was another time and place for their union. He nuzzled the mare affectionately once more, his heart frothing in emotion, and then, he made for the door. The mare looked after him in confusion, but did not want to leave her stallion’s side. She followed him noiselessly into the night, and they left the pasture together. All the while, the moonlight danced in joy over their elegant and wonderful flight.
During this time, a police officer stepped out of his vehicle and walked up to Travers’ former house. He knocked several times and waited for an answer. When he received none, he pounded harder upon the door. The echos resounded across the pasture. Shunted by the series of refusals of Mr. Travers to procure himself willingly, the officer made his way around the back. He checked the doors, and they were locked as well. The lights were dark. He unhooked the radio from his belt so as to send a message to the other officers investigating the house.
After the officers responded, he turned on the spot. As he was making his way towards on of the windows, ready to break in with force, a glint of light caught his eye, apparently cast from the stables nearby. He clicked on his flashlight as he crossed the tall grass that undulated in the moonlight. When he beheld, at last, the large barn door, a ghastly sight gripped his heart. Swaying slightly in the breeze, Mr. Travers’ limp, naked body hung from the noose. His neck was snapped, his head lolling to the side. What made the scene more grotesque was the blood chilling smile preserved upon his ghostly face.
Perhaps the officer would have puzzled over other oddities had this scene not implanted itself in his mind. Oddly enough, none of the other officers, who beheld the corpse, noticed the torn clothing or pairs of hoof prints, which appeared to materialize with no detectable origin. The straw began to burn, emanating from the shattered lamp. The flames engulfed the barn, scorching every object, and in the center of the infernal blaze, Travers body still swung, looking out into the wilderness. The officers fled to a distance over a hill and witnessed a flaring as the roof collapsed. The light glared off of the men’s eyes and another pair in the distant shadows. The large, dark orbs stared over the fence unnoticed at the fury of the burning wreckage and turned, leaving that sight forever.
<comments />
