[open] i've been running from something, any

[Memorie]

one lives in hope of becoming a memory

It happens again, though this time I am not as quick to notice, but it becomes hard not to, as the bone spikes disappear and the grey of his coat begins to shift and flicker, growing darker and darker until he seems to disappear altogether. I can still see him, just barely, when I squint my eyes at him, just a faint outline of his figure against the darkness. And what’s so strange is that the stallion doesn’t even seem to notice!

My eyes widen, and I take a step back. He speaks, but this time I am unable to get past the sudden change, especially since he doesn’t even seem to notice that it’s happening. “Whoa!” I say, shocked and flabbergasted by the sudden shift in his appearance. “why do you keep…changing?” I find myself stuck between humor and horror, though an even bigger part of me is completely unsure of how to feel at all.

Perhaps he knows that he is changing? I mean, Beqanna has some pretty strange magic. Maybe it is something that he is controlling? The thought does occur to me, but a nagging sensation at the back of my mind tells me that he is completely unaware, and that this is not something he has any control over.

I glance around, trying to peer into the shadows. One would think that a year in darkness might help our eyes to adjust better and our brains to make its own adjustments to help us see better, but that is not the case. But there is nothing there, no flash of movement as I’d seen before, no hint of anything nearby. A chill runs down my spine, and I shake it off, returning my attention to the conversation.

Though my attention had been elsewhere, years of practiced listening had still allowed me to catch his questions. I draw in a breath, a shaky breath. The topic was something that still caused a little bit of discomfort to run through me. “I have seen them. One attacked my sister.” I still remember every detail as if it had just happened, the sound of her terrified scream, the headlong race through the trees, the gathering of us yearlings surrounding her and the monster. The monster, however, was a blur, a shape that I couldn’t describe, made up of something otherworldly. If he asks for a description, I’m not sure I’d be able to provide one.

As for his second question, I’m not quite sure how to answer. I stop and think for a moment here. Why are they called monsters? “Well, to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure why they’re called ‘monsters’. I guess we had nothing else to name them. We don’t even know what they are or where they came from. I’ve only heard rumors, though, that they crawled their way out of the bodies of horses that have been to the Afterlife in a quest of Carnage’s making.” That was the best description I could give him.

Memorie

Image by Calcifer

So disappointed that nothing happened to his camouflage! Haha.