The Glade
It was a dark and stormy night. Thousands of magpies descended upon the lone hut as darkness robbed the interior of any appearance of hope or visitation. The hut sat alone, a stark reminder of civilization, and the falling leaves outline a tall horse, twenty hands high, standing alone outside the hut. Unkempt, with bloodied hooves, the dark horse trod silently around the hut, sometimes stopping to dig, sometimes sniffing the air, never quite resting as his rounds left soft marks in the hard dirt.
Music came from behind the hut – rollicking, mysterious, energetic music, that crafted hints of hope and solace and caused the falling leaves to dance and sway in time with the cacophony. The frame of the horse changed not one iota - and yet the horse appeared drawn to the source of the music. The circles about the hut the horse had made became larger until the horse came upon a mostly-abandoned glade.
Row upon row of neatly painted grass swayed in tune with the powerful audition of energy as the horse tentatively approached. The trees seemed to gently egg on the notes, as if hoping to draw out through simple presence, the hope that had been denied their brethren without the glade. Bushes, vines, and animated tumble weed all seem orchestrated – they swayed, writhed, and rolled to the tune by which the whole glade seemed particularly amused. Slowly the horse moved toward the other end of the glade.
A tall man, adorned by top hat, long silky leather coat, long, thin hands, and a thin pipe with holes, sat atop a rock, swaying gently to the tune. The music seemed to lift his elbows, his knees, and his hat, as the sounds emanated from about his frame. The horse trod slowly toward the rock. Crushed leaves and vines pulsated gently beneath his hooves and his steps made their way to the man.
As the horse drew closer to the man, the sounds intensified and the horse was at first taken aback – then determined to nudge this stranger. The music’s pulse increase tempo slightly and the leaves migrated from gentle pulsation to slightly piqued interest. The vines too responded and the dark horse turned to observe his path. He realized, with some degree of shock, that his path out had been removed, hidden by the pulsation of flora about the stone.
Closer still the horse stepped, and this time vines and leaves moved to evade his step. Where he had previously stepped had been the soft grass of a hidden glade and was now the pensive dirt of lovingly cultivated soil. Small rows where grass had lain fallow were replaced with rows of newly placed seeds and a small dirt path lay before him leading straight to the rock. The music hung in the air as if to ask a question – and the horse answered in fear by running to the rock.
Twenty feet from the rock, the dirt began to soften, becoming less pliable and less supportive, and the horse jumped, hoping to land safely about the rock, to question this music. As the horse primed to jump, the soil softened such that his mighty leap was almost completely absorbed by the ever-softening land. His pivot resulted in merely knocking himself off-balance and he landed brusquely on his right side. Fighting to get up, the dark stallion cycled hooves quickly, hoping to gain traction. As the dirt around him became less coherent, the struggle of the horse became more intense – until finally he was up to his shoulders in dirt. As he became frantic, the dirt seemed to fight back, absorbing his kicks half the time and not giving him anything to kick against the other.
Soon, the horse’s kick were only recognizable because bits of vine and grass seemed to move at odd angles upon the middle of the glade. Gentle notes of life and hope were spiked with hints of assimilation, and the glade swayed back and forth, finally at rest with the music.
Music came from behind the hut – rollicking, mysterious, energetic music, that crafted hints of hope and solace and caused the falling leaves to dance and sway in time with the cacophony. The frame of the horse changed not one iota - and yet the horse appeared drawn to the source of the music. The circles about the hut the horse had made became larger until the horse came upon a mostly-abandoned glade.
Row upon row of neatly painted grass swayed in tune with the powerful audition of energy as the horse tentatively approached. The trees seemed to gently egg on the notes, as if hoping to draw out through simple presence, the hope that had been denied their brethren without the glade. Bushes, vines, and animated tumble weed all seem orchestrated – they swayed, writhed, and rolled to the tune by which the whole glade seemed particularly amused. Slowly the horse moved toward the other end of the glade.
A tall man, adorned by top hat, long silky leather coat, long, thin hands, and a thin pipe with holes, sat atop a rock, swaying gently to the tune. The music seemed to lift his elbows, his knees, and his hat, as the sounds emanated from about his frame. The horse trod slowly toward the rock. Crushed leaves and vines pulsated gently beneath his hooves and his steps made their way to the man.
As the horse drew closer to the man, the sounds intensified and the horse was at first taken aback – then determined to nudge this stranger. The music’s pulse increase tempo slightly and the leaves migrated from gentle pulsation to slightly piqued interest. The vines too responded and the dark horse turned to observe his path. He realized, with some degree of shock, that his path out had been removed, hidden by the pulsation of flora about the stone.
Closer still the horse stepped, and this time vines and leaves moved to evade his step. Where he had previously stepped had been the soft grass of a hidden glade and was now the pensive dirt of lovingly cultivated soil. Small rows where grass had lain fallow were replaced with rows of newly placed seeds and a small dirt path lay before him leading straight to the rock. The music hung in the air as if to ask a question – and the horse answered in fear by running to the rock.
Twenty feet from the rock, the dirt began to soften, becoming less pliable and less supportive, and the horse jumped, hoping to land safely about the rock, to question this music. As the horse primed to jump, the soil softened such that his mighty leap was almost completely absorbed by the ever-softening land. His pivot resulted in merely knocking himself off-balance and he landed brusquely on his right side. Fighting to get up, the dark stallion cycled hooves quickly, hoping to gain traction. As the dirt around him became less coherent, the struggle of the horse became more intense – until finally he was up to his shoulders in dirt. As he became frantic, the dirt seemed to fight back, absorbing his kicks half the time and not giving him anything to kick against the other.
Soon, the horse’s kick were only recognizable because bits of vine and grass seemed to move at odd angles upon the middle of the glade. Gentle notes of life and hope were spiked with hints of assimilation, and the glade swayed back and forth, finally at rest with the music.
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