Zekharyah wasn’t certain how long he laid there; thoughts crept across his mind like wayward slugs, the air hurt his lungs. Darkness lingered at the edge of his vision and he smiled, as if recognizing an old friend. It was beckoning him, whispering to him, telling him it was okay to let everything go.
(You don’t have to stay here, you know. I can take you Elsewhere.)
Elsewhere, somehow, didn’t seem like such a bad spot to be—not when there was blood trying to freeze on his coat and the bruises from his mother’s kicks started throbbing in his chest and shoulder. It was a miracle she hadn’t caved some part of him in.
Gradually, the dark started clouding more and more of his view; he was sinking down, down, down into the snow, down into a sleep from which he’d never wake up. The fairies would find them frozen together, no doubt—a mother and her son, victims of a tragic ‘accident.’ Animals would scatter the bones of the others, the undergrowth would grow over and conceal the bodies, as it did every year.
He shifted uncomfortably, trying to will his eyes to stay open, but the task was starting to prove itself almost impossible to do. Almost. Until he noticed a glow from the corner of his eye.
Zekharyah lifted his head, his heart again starting to hammer against his ribs. Before him stood a God, a creature spun out of starlight; there were stars on his skin, starlight pouring from his very being. The colt wondered what he wanted, if he had come to finish what his mother had started. Because they had wanted him and his mother believed that they had wanted him dead.
He started clumsily scooting himself backwards, pressing his back into the lukewarm belly of his mother’s corpse. He pinned his ears and snorted, baring his teeth and gums in a weak attempt to ward off the potential threat.
The stallion didn’t seem deterred, though. He approached calmly, kindly—Zekharyah blinked slowly in his confusion, though he started to visibly relax. There was nothing about the starlit stranger that came off as hostile, nothing about him that made the colt think he meant harm. His voice was gentle, soothing to the boy’s ears, and though he struggled, Zekharyah pushed himself up out of his ‘sit’ and slowly inched towards this so-called ‘God.’
“Help,” he repeated weakly (his very first word), reaching out with his black muzzle as if to confirm the other horse was real. It was the beginning of... something, though he wasn’t quite sure what that something was. Zekharyah only knew that he wanted to leave this place behind and never see it again.
(You don’t have to stay here, you know. I can take you Elsewhere.)
Elsewhere, somehow, didn’t seem like such a bad spot to be—not when there was blood trying to freeze on his coat and the bruises from his mother’s kicks started throbbing in his chest and shoulder. It was a miracle she hadn’t caved some part of him in.
Gradually, the dark started clouding more and more of his view; he was sinking down, down, down into the snow, down into a sleep from which he’d never wake up. The fairies would find them frozen together, no doubt—a mother and her son, victims of a tragic ‘accident.’ Animals would scatter the bones of the others, the undergrowth would grow over and conceal the bodies, as it did every year.
He shifted uncomfortably, trying to will his eyes to stay open, but the task was starting to prove itself almost impossible to do. Almost. Until he noticed a glow from the corner of his eye.
Zekharyah lifted his head, his heart again starting to hammer against his ribs. Before him stood a God, a creature spun out of starlight; there were stars on his skin, starlight pouring from his very being. The colt wondered what he wanted, if he had come to finish what his mother had started. Because they had wanted him and his mother believed that they had wanted him dead.
He started clumsily scooting himself backwards, pressing his back into the lukewarm belly of his mother’s corpse. He pinned his ears and snorted, baring his teeth and gums in a weak attempt to ward off the potential threat.
The stallion didn’t seem deterred, though. He approached calmly, kindly—Zekharyah blinked slowly in his confusion, though he started to visibly relax. There was nothing about the starlit stranger that came off as hostile, nothing about him that made the colt think he meant harm. His voice was gentle, soothing to the boy’s ears, and though he struggled, Zekharyah pushed himself up out of his ‘sit’ and slowly inched towards this so-called ‘God.’
“Help,” he repeated weakly (his very first word), reaching out with his black muzzle as if to confirm the other horse was real. It was the beginning of... something, though he wasn’t quite sure what that something was. Zekharyah only knew that he wanted to leave this place behind and never see it again.