| Subject: <(~)><(~)><(~)>---...The mists surround her, shrouding her, holding her in an ivory mist which consumes her muscled figure...---<(~)><(~)><(~)> |
Author:
Never The Less
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Date Posted: 11:00:56 03/17/01 Sat
Author Host/IP: px3nr.wp.shawcable.net/24.66.94.142
*The mists surround her, shrouding her, holding her within their light, bony grasps, their clasped fingers clutched ahead her, mocking her strength, daring her to break the airy grasps of their rickety limbs, to push them apart, defy them, to take up their taunting challenge..... Her breath drains from each flated nostril, the white arising, lifting, reaching, dancing, the strands curling about eachother in an endless unity until the vigil winds snap them away, spilling them into the hanging fog, dissolving them, their solitary force now added to the impulsive feat of the curdling white...... Curtain after curtain she strides, the veil never leaving, never waning, breath after breath falling to the selfless cause, leaning toward the harsh reality of themselves........ No light ahead, no hope, no chance of escape, only plight, plight and fearful ambition........ Yet finally, somehow, the chances, though slim, altered for her, for the cause which she fights blindly for, now somehow lighted with the wash of golden sunlight.......... Her iron hoof lifts from the hanging mass, slapping against the long-trod earth, its force arising an opposing mass of dust, a dust which rises defiantly to meet the protestant fog, a mark of her proud defeat against it....... Another hoof follows its path, her face, her chest, her loin, not a thread of tail forgotten within the angry void, not a mark but the vague trail of prints which drain out of it........ She snorts gently into the winds, the winds which lap against her youthful face, the winds which grasp each solitary lock of mane, holding it apart from all else, curling, tangling, matting the strands by her slender neck, their airy masses spilling over her face and cheeks..... Yet something was missing....... Something was wrong, something was not as it should have been at this moment..... Her friends.. Her companions... Lost within the thresh of the vast meadows, the endless alpine peaks, the ceaseless oceans which lap lovingly at their ribbon-like shores..... A protestant nicker escapes her throat, spilling from her lips, her nostrils, hardly expecting to beckon, for the resonance barely reached the lobe of her own auricle........... Her back taut, arched as a feline, the grace of her shadow matching just that, her legs tense in anticipation of what was to follow.... She springs forth from the earth on which she stands, grasping with flailing hooves at the splay of dusts beneath her, tearing up a torrential storm to consume the crimson of her own coat....... She anchors her hind faithfully to the earth beneath them, grasping the moistened soil, each limb quivering with hope as she lifts both fore from their stance in rear, defying the winds as they dare to confront her, to push her backward, her hooves slicing at their mighty force, as if in mock, in show of her strength....... The threads, the veins of mane which had lined her crest now rise, leaping, soaring, grasping at the night's ominous sky, reaching to touch the stars, spilling over her comely features as her legs pump wildly......... And at long last, a call arises as this, a call which binds the earth in brace for its powerful echo..... A piercing, shrill call, a call which touches each rock, each stone, each stalk of grass, a beckon, a dare for those she seeks................*
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