Smother
I awaken. Every inch of my body screams in agonizing pain, aches and muscle cramps trap my body, I am a hostage to dewy grass. Scars, bruises, evidence of brutality taint my body in a show of misfortunes.
It looks as though someone took a baton and beat me several times over.
Oh, if only such things were true.
No, the real story is more horrifying.
I lift my head, a pathetic attempt really. My neck burns like fire and I feel a slight trickle of blood ease down my body. At least, for now, I am back in equine form. Not human form, with sensitive easy to bruise skin and clumsy legs that come only in pairs. My blue eyes are greeted by four legs and hooves, splashes of brown and milky cream mixing along my coat.
I am back to myself.
If only I felt emotionally transitioned…
I debate on dying. Lying here in the cold grass, fresh dew soaking into my coat and blossoming blades of emerald grass tickling at my coat. I debate closing my eyes and holding my breath, suffocating myself in my own misery. It won’t be hard; it’ll take one, two, maybe three minutes before my brain begins to panic. And then my heart will quicken, my muscles will tense. Everything in me will say inhale but I will know better. I will hold my ground, grit my teeth.
I will die, god damn it.
Dying is better than being here.
Now.
Lids close over crystal blue eyes and my nostrils stop moving with my air flow. I will do it, I can do it.
They don’t want you.
No one want you.
But I want you…
My eyes flutter open at the masculine tone… Was that in my head? Or was that from the shadows?
I don’t move, paralyzed. Who knows what could have followed me from the haunted mansion of hell.
Who knows what could have hung to my soul with claws sharp as daggers, feeding off the fear I so openly showed.
The feeling of heavy pressure presses down on my neck, just above my shoulder. I lay, flat and motionless, as the sound of parting blades and gliding skin tickles at my ears.
You are weak, now.
It is there again, prominent and thick. I lift my head slightly to see pale yellow scale-like skin slither along my neck. It is never ending—the length of this creature petrifying and yet intriguing.
I don’t feel fear.
I feel hope.
His eyes, pupils in a thin diamond shape and a tongue that senses my body by gliding in and out of his mouth, greets my face but resting on my cheek.
They didn’t want you, but I do. I need you. And therefore, you will get up.
I blink, contemplating if I had gone crazy or if this was all real life.
He removes his body from my own, allowing me the chance to rise from what I was hoping to call my grave. He is beautiful in the eeriest of ways. Yellow splotches of butterscotch skin followed by pale hues of white and cream darting along his body. He is so long, almost never ending. I want to estimate ten feet but my guessing game isn’t up to par. His pattern reminds me of a giraffe, bold spots of butterscotch with outlining of a complimenting colour.
“Who are you?” I ask, my eyes adjusting to the sight before rocking myself onto my belly. I outstretch my front legs, ready to heave myself up from the forest floor.
“Turkish.” He speaks. I jolt.
He was in my head.
And now, he is vocalizing allowed.
“Turkish,” I mimic, hesitancy a dominant trait on my tone.
“Yes.” He watches me, intrigued as I pull myself from the field floor and onto all four legs.
I shake, as if to shake off not only the sticky grass blades but the hallucination as well.
“I am not a hallucination, Smother. They deemed you worthy of me. You need me. We need each other…” He is slithering over to me and I am fighting every instinct to run or strike. I stand solid.
He coils himself around my leg, effortlessly climbing aboard my body like a monkey. I pin my ears in slight annoyance.
I have a feeling I won’t have alone time any more.
You’re feeling is correct.
Even in my head, I will never be alone again.
Isn’t this going to be fun?
Not really.
He has wrapped himself around my neck like a loose necklace. His head rests on my withers, and I try to ignore the weight that presses my shoulders. He is heavier than he looks, and longer than I figured. He has wrapped himself at least four times around my neck.
Let’s not forget about the girth on this guy.
Shall we go see who wants to play recruiter? We need a home first, Smother.
I suppose we shall.
