Posted on April 6, 2020 at 03:11:23 PM by Macabre
 learning from what sad cause he pours his tears? Love hears his ladies crying their distress, showing forth bitter sorrow through their eyes because villainous Death has worked its cruel destructive art upon a gentle heart, and laid waste all that earth can find to praise in a gracious lady, save her chastity." Macabre was never one to resort to physical violence. For much of her life, she was terrified - constantly - of the unknown. She was meek and afraid of the stallions who claimed her, and she followed obediently to avoid the repercussions. It was the death of her first born foal, Shiraz, that seemingly flipped a switch in Macabre's makeup. She began to question the role assigned to her by her God-given gender. And then she met Inka, and Jetta, and so many other powerfully independent mares who lived atop a mountain. Their support and camaraderie awoke something inside the petite chestnut mare that had always been there, but laid dormant. Instead of stifling her intellect and curiosity, her newfound Vulcan sisters fostered it. She rose to become the Codebreak of the Peak, where Macabre made it her life's work developing diplomatic measures to create peace among the Peak herd and others. She forged relationships and used conversation as a tool to avoid violence, when at all possible. The Peak gave her purpose. But some horses, she learned over time, did not have the mental wherewithal to work out their issues in a sophisticated way. Cullen was one of them. She saw him as selfish and wholly self-absorbed. He acted out in ways that were meant to benefit himself and only him. He wrecked havoc wherever he went, inspiring land-owning stallions to take up this fight against mare-lead territories. The rise of the opposite gender was surely Cullen's nightmare. And he couldn't find it in himself to learn to live with this new shift in power dynamics. The brutish stallion races for her now, his cream-colored legs striking out against the earth and his beady eyes lock into her own. Macabre feels a fleeting sense of fear course through her, as she looks at her enemy head on. She was in no sense an equal match on the battlefield against Cullen. Macabre had fought him off only once, by sheer luck. But if she didn't stand up to her oppressor today, then when would she? Macabre feels the soft hairs of Cullen's coat in between her teeth, as her jaws land a bite here and there against his chest and neck. But Cullen lands a formidable bite of his own along the thin, bony slab just above Macabre's nostrils. She reels in pain in the aftermath, and tears flood her eyes and blur her vision. By the time Macabre is able to blink them away and resharpen her focus, the Boss of the Lagoon is high above her on two legs, with his forelimbs flailing. The chestnut mare pivots quickly on her haunches, aiming her rump in his direction, and shoots out with two hind legs to cast a kick toward the stallion's left vulnerable underbelly. Macabre can no longer see Bozena or Bjorn or Ruger. They are all flashes of color among the turned-up dust and moonlight. The mare snaps her head to the right and to left after her kick, trying to make sense of where Cullen had moved next, but she can't make it out within the scramble of bodies. But within the dust she spies a haunting silhouette. The Reaper is there, lurking just out of view. Macabre's dark, marbled eyes squint to see him more clearly, and her heart lurches in her chest. This sense of dread that has followed her for her entire life feels so ever-present today. And there he stood in the distance, waiting for her here, in the darkness. She sucks in a deep breath as she realizes her fate. She would die here tonight. The Reaper finally caught up with her. The chestnut mare grit her teeth as she let this sink in. She is not panicked about the outcome, but she searches frantically through the throngs of others for Ruger, even firing off a shrill whinny to the stallion to get his attention. Macabre's eyes lock with his for just a few seconds. But Macabre stands at ease, her muscles loose under her thickening hide. "Tell Wasp and Bacardi I love them." She shouts over the commotion. And when Cullen's limbs come thrusting at her head from behind her, she does not see them. His dull hooves strike her firmly against the side of her head, and Macabre's eyes shut tightly. All she can see is a blinding white as her legs give out beneath her. By the time her limp body hits the ground, she is gone, floating above the horrific scene. The Reaper's silhouette, is long gone too. I saw him weeping there in human form, observing the stilled image of her grace; and more than once he raised his eyes toward Heaven, where that sweet soul already had its home, which once, on earth, had worn enchanting flesh." |
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- Ain't life just awful strange - By Wasp April 23, 2020 at 09:09:50 PM
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