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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1775664-White-Horses
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1775664
Warm air covered me like a glove, I melted into the sand and became a child again
        I looked out of the window and saw White Horses on the lake, big angry Stallions frothing and charging as if the world were on fire. I looked round expecting everyone else to notice too, but they didn't; if they didn't care, that was THEIR fault. I left them behind and threw myself head first into the water; the coldness hit me with the abruptness of a red brick wall, and threatened my very life. To die or swim? I swam like a Tiger hunting it's prey, only my prey was the wave, the horse. Slow motion frenzy saw me grab a strand of hair; I stretched for more and found a fistful of tale, reaching, grabbing and pulling, I hauled myself onto his back and held onto my saviour. My body moulded gratefully to his, his eyes threw me a look and he shook with a feverous rage. Faster and faster, he surged like a Bull to the Matadors blade, he flung me off his back and into the air. Hit by a wave, he too lost control and was tossed like a seal by a shark; instinct saw my legs grab at his back, I stuck like a bad friend, he couldn't shake me off. Resigned to my resolve he changed in an instant, far from his fury he was broken and tame. Like a childs ride he took me to the shore.
       
          I was unsure and confused, a boxer out of his depth and praying for the towel...why? where? I looked between my legs...WAS he a horse? No, he was a Whale, a big...black Whale. No, he was a horse, he WAS a horse. We left the water and made our way up the shingle beach, he dropped me off with the gentle care of a parent. With one bound he flew off into the air, wings as wide as a Jumbo, flying with serene beauty. I fell to my knees open mouthed at the sight til it disappeared from view.
       
        Warm air covered me like a glove, I melted into the sand and became a child again. My hands played submarines in the sand...so quiet, so peaceful; the only dark cloud was the knowledge that something SO good would be followed by something...so bad; that's the way it goes. At peace, I pushed deeper into the sand, the strange thing...it didn't stop, my hand didn't stop, the more I pushed the deeper it went. The tips of my fingers bumped into an object, I stopped. A strange sensation worked it's way from the tips of my fingers to the whole of my hand...it felt...familiar, it was another hand! I pulled away quickly, but it grabbed me firmly, I tried to escape but it held me like a vice. With the strength of a hundred men it pulled me into the sand. I closed my eyes and gave into my fate; all I could think was how happy I was that I could still breathe. It was like sticking your head out of a moving train, but I could STILL breathe. A kind memory tried to save me, to reassure me things would be ok...playing with my dog, pulling his tongue on a warm summers day...I was seven...soft velvet ears he had...then BANG! I landed, it was soft...but hard from the fall, and pitch black...pitch black.
     
        I was lying down quite still, inside, my mind sent messages to my arms, legs and feet...'MOVE'...one at a time, thank God they obeyed. Slowly I sat up...and waited. Taking a shallow breath I could just make out a scent, some way off but very definite. The smell got stronger and stronger, so heavy and thick it made me instantly and violently sick, I rolled onto my side and fell to the floor. My head was pounding; I thought the vomit would never stop. I felt like a whip being cracked, totally at the mercy of someone...something. Empty and spent I tried to move, on all fours I crawled like a dog. My hands and knees waded through...sick? No...too grainy, too...textured. I bent down to smell it...Tapioca? I tentatively moved my mouth closer, I'm sure it was...and took a bite...it WAS tapioca!...I always liked...a piercing light appeared from behind me, lighting a path behind and in front of me. It also lit up what I just ate...EYES...it was a river of tiny eyes swimming loose in their sockets. I coughed and coughed and threw up; in the light I saw eyes and blood FLY from my mouth. The more I moved, the thicker the river became...thick with eyes, all crammed and staring at me. Suddenly, they froze. Thousands of claps could be heard as one by one they all slammed shut. A deafening silence followed, coldness crept over my exposed skin, I shuddered...to think...what was coming.
         
          The quiet was broken by a rumble...a distant grumble, rolling like thunder. Seconds felt like hours, still the noise got louder, and louder...and closer. Like the roar of Niagara, a presence made itself known behind me. My only answer was to play dead, lifeless, motionless, emotionless. The presence invaded my skin and stuck like cheap perfume...I raised my head and my eyes to look at it, to face what WOULD kill me. Staring back at me was a man...a man with my eyes, and my face. It was the evil in me...my evil as a man. With no sound and no expression, he put his hands on my head and my neck...I relaxed, resistance would be...he pushed my head under...like a rock on a glass, I was dead. In my ear a voice gently said...'Wake up, wake up, this is your stop' I woke up, the bus had arrived, Selly Oak jobcentre...I got off and signed on.............
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1775664-White-Horses