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WRITING.COM TIME

Monday
September 1, 2014
9:39am EDT


Rated: 18+ | Short Story | Supernatural | #1852442
Editors pick W.D.C Author's Newsletter story about evil horses
                 

Fists pounded on the door. “Chet they’re gone!” Jack exclaimed, widening his blur eyes while he frantically searched the area. 

Chet stepped outside and flipped the lock on the gate.“They must have forced the fence open. Go get the jeep, Jack.” He ordered his ranch hand. “We better find them before tonight or all hell will break loose.”

Chet went into the house and grabbed his shotgun. Then put the shells in the chamber and clicked the trigger, setting the safety latch. He hurriedly ran outside, got into the jeep with Jack and drove away to retrieve the escaped horses.

As they were driving away, a dark haired man on horseback, dressed in a white ruffled shirt with riding britches, yelled at them to stop.

“Chet Reynolds, wait, please!  I want to help you get the horses back.” The man pleaded, as he galloped up beside the jeep, hitting the horse’s side with his reigns.

The jeep came to an abrupt halt. Chet got out and walked over to the mounted man, pointing his finger at him threateningly. “Who are you and how do you know about the horses?”

"My name is Darby. I know the Sanguisuge were sent here as an experiment, to breed with your farm horses. They were owned by a group of aristocratic vampires that enjoyed horseback riding. During the day, they graze on grass in peace, but at night they are transformed into flesh eating beasts, infected from the blood of the spirits that their previous owners turned into the living dead. My father was the last owner of the horses, before he sent them to America. Unlike the other aristocrats, he fought the vampire elitists, and I was raised in a monastery. I was never contaminated with the blood of the spirits, and I think I can help you break the curse."

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” Chet questioned, narrowing his eyes with skepticism.

“Yes sir, I realize the horses are dangerous, but I’ve brought Holy water from the monastery,” he replied pulling out a flask from his saddlebag. “It will destroy the blood of the spirits that possesses them.”

“All right then Darby, follow along behind us, were going to keep looking.” Chet answered, getting back into the jeep and turning on the engine. The men searched the canyons all day and could not find one trace of the horses anywhere.

Darby stopped riding, tied his horse to a tree, and joined the men in the jeep, as they made their way slowly through the dark forest road. They drove anxiously  looking and searching for the signs of the horses. Then, they heard a thunderous noise of beating hooves gallop by. Jack pushed the accelerator to the floor and they took off on a wild chase after the horses, following them, as they galloped away. The jeep curved up and down the terrain, around the bend, splashing across shallow creeks in pursuit of the horses.

“Well, Chet, it’s almost night, we better find them soon.” Jack warned, before something terrible happens.”

“Stop! They’re standing over there.” Darby pointed to the horses with their heads lowered and lapping water from a pond.

“Let me handle it." Chet uttered, walking over to one of the horses timidly holding out his hand. "Easy boy, it’s okay, nobody wants to hurt any of you. We just want to help you.”

Suddenly, the lead black stallion turned his head, glaring at Chet with red fiery eyes. He reared up on his hind legs and began to dash him with his front hooves. The horse’s mouth opened, revealing razor- sharp teeth that gripped his hand and sliced through his flesh, like it was putty. White saliva from his tongue dripped on Chet's face, burning him like acid. He gasped, clutching his skin in agony, as electric spasms ran up his arm and down his spine. His mangled hand, hung from his arm while blood gushed on the ground. He was breathing quickly and his eyes were glassy, as he turned around and yelled at Darby to get the Holy water out of his saddlebag and pour it into the water, where the horses were drinking from.       

Chet dragged himself away, while the stallion turned his attention on Darby, who urgently pulled the bottle out and ran over to the pond and poured the sacred contents of the bottle into the water. Then, he drew his switchblade and came from behind, surprising the black stallion by grabbing him by the ears and pinning them back against his head. He pried his mouth open with the blade, and forced the water down his throat.

The stallion twisted his head back and forth and kicked up his heels, trying to spit the water out, but Darby was a huge, muscular man, and he grabbed the rope from the side of the jeep, looped it around the black demon’s jaw and tightened it, so he couldn’t move his mouth, making him swallow the fluid  reluctantly.

“It’s over!” Chet sighed holding out his hand, as Jack put a tourniquet on it. “In few minutes, the demons will leave and they’ll be a normal herd of horses that can be rounded up and taken home."

The three men stood there in awe, as they watched ghost like gray vapors, with soul less black eyes and long claw like fingers, screaming eerily in pain from the Holy water, come up out of the horse's mouths and disappear into the night. 



   
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