| Subject: ¡!¡Behind Your Back...¡!¡ |
Author:
Insomniac
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Date Posted: 09:18:08 12/17/01 Mon
(Well, sleet and freezing rain call for no school. Might as well do something useful.)
¤ Unholy smirk plasters itself upon youth’s features as lithe form creeps along tree line, ebon pelt blatantly obvious against innocence of newly fallen snow, half-obscuring path. A hindrance, yes…But a small one compared to others that could be faced. Opal crafted optics suddenly fall upon fresh ivory in some sort of sickly astonishment. Weight shifts as pace tapers to nothing at all, single petite hoof sloshing in the half melted flakes, like six pointed stars in their dying glory. Nostrils flare sharply as horrified snort is emitted, youngster immediately recoiling from the cold burning up and down the exposed part of pillar. Uneven steps are taken backwards, thin lips half parting as though to issue a scream. Softer noise expands within throat, cautious steps taken towards the near untouched drift. It was the only pure thing left in the world. Blood and war and hatred and lies replaced all the other signs of what had once been purity. Life was a heavy toxin. A breath of it would scar, and being around it too long would push you to expire. Colt trails forward, stepping without event into the once feared drift, irons trailing muck and sludge through the pristine scattered about terra. Dial built of slight concavity turns, ever changing oculi staring down the ruined snow. Confused gaze overtakes once impassive features, muzzle dipping towards destroyed beauty as though in investigation. Startled whicker breaks the newfound silence, young equine backing away apprehensively, yet only succeeding in reaching more of the tormenting ivory. Calmed state finally reaches charcoal form of colt, small figure finally turning to wander on, onyx-sheathed daggers sliding every so often on slick surface created by reconstructed ice. Youthful creature trails further and further away from motherly figure that had never been truly maternal, a last glance cast hindwards at the massacred wonderment left behind. Few lonely words echo on the dead hanging of air, passing from youngster in misting breath. ¤
I was right…
I always am…
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