They say he means death.
That seeing him ends your life. Or means that you’re going to die very, very soon. If you can hear his gallop, or can see his silhouette, it’s best if you get your affairs in order.
That’s what I’ve heard.
The tales they’ve always told about the black horse. The one that vanishes before dawn. He has no rider, and they say its because he’s only an omen. Only a warning.
He comes back later, they say.
Rider on his back.
And, guess who they say his rider is.
Guess who they say he belongs to.
Continue reading “Dark Horse”
“Well… since you’ve come this far, I’ll let you inside—but don’t touch anything.”
“Uh, okay,” I replied.
“Not ‘okay’. You say ‘yes’ like you mean it.”
Huffing, the guy turned and walked back into the cottage. Not even bothering to make sure I was following.
“Shut the door on your way in,” he called over his shoulder, moving down a flight of steps.
I could feel it.
My nerves were bubbling. Oozing. All my veins were dancing, jittering against my bones.
All my life I’d waited for this. Looked for it. Sought after it.
I was finally here.
The Ocean Library. Continue reading “Between the Tides”
By the ocean, you can hear it.
If you’re quiet enough. Humble enough. Tired enough.
You can hear it.
It’s not a siren’s call. It isn’t the sound of a mermaid. Not the kraken’s roar.
It’s not nearly as angry as all that.
Not nearly. Continue reading “Ocean Calling”
Sailing was hardly a choice anymore.
Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without sailing. Without a boat. Rivers or oceans, it didn’t matter. As long as I had a boat, I could follow it. As long as I had a boat, I didn’t have to stick around. Didn’t have to watch and wait.
I could chase.
The wind whistles in my ears, and I drop my sail. Canvas catching, directed. Guided. Over hungry waves and demanding tides, the wind howls through my ears.
I sail forward.
I chase. Continue reading “Sailing Pursuits”
You were burying something.
I don’t know how we got there, or why, really. I just know that it was the middle of the night, and I was asleep, and then I wasn’t. I wasn’t, and you were gone. So I followed. Followed you out there, stood silently as I watched. We were in the woods, and you were standing there with a shovel in your hand, that favorite hoodie of yours covering you like a blanket while your gym shorts allowed your legs to breath. You stood there, breath coming out in the cold air, small puffs. You stood there, looking at the ground. Sifting though the dirt.
You were burying something.
And I stood there watching.
And I knew.
It wasn’t the time to ask.
Continue reading “The Ground, Understood”
The first time it happened, I was okay with it. You know? I really was. Because the first time was the first. At that point, I figured it was probably a fluke. Nothing to be worried about.
But I was wrong.
And I was also right.
See, I’d been thinking about this the wrong way. My mind stuck in competition. Stuck on winning.
But for her?
It was different for her.
So, so different. Continue reading “Hell of a Race”