The Lost Islands
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We found each other in the dark
Posted on June 6, 2018 at 07:09:58 PM by RUXIN






Through the black starless water,
And the cold lonely air.
On the rock restless seas.

Insects buzzed as the sun faded from view beyond the horizon. As the light grew dim, their chorus rose. Some chirped in staccato-like verberation. Others hummed delicately, in sync with others in the dark, whether they could see one another or not. Their chorus would come to a sharp halt upon hearing the voice of a much larger jungle inhabitant -- sometimes the shrill call of a lone bird from the canopy of trees overhead, or the growl of a overgrown feline as it prowled for squirrels and fruit rats at the midnight hour. For a few seconds, the humming would stop. But the predator would pass, then the singing would return.

It's this music of the jungle, the land of Atlantis so bright and alive, that lulled him to sleep each night. And sleep he did, for days, even weeks. Upon washing ashore on this strange island some time ago, unpleasantly still alive after a disappointing suicide attempt, the young stallion became even more recluse. He rose on shaky limbs from the beach of the Ridge, dragging his sore, sopping wet body into the brush and that is where he stayed. Even now, weeks later, his lungs still burned from the faintest hint of seawater. But he was still very much alive.

The blotched red and white stallion took refuge inside the dense foliage of the jungle, moving to new areas, past palm trees and through thick vines, only when he felt restless enough. The sound of the crashing waves was never far from ear shot, but after his last misguided meeting with the ocean, the stallion had no intention of coming near it again. At least not until he mustered up the courage to attempt to die. Again.

This unknown island, however, had become a bunker of sorts. It was a safe enclave for him, seemingly desolate, aside from the occasional scent of another of his kind that wafted to him in the humid breeze. The terrain was so dense and far-reaching it was easy enough to move around undetected. At least thus far.

Ruxin had no idea what came next for him. Talya was dead. The palomino mare was back in the Forest where she died, or so he thought. But his muse, his purpose was gone. Whatever hope reuniting with his sister had instilled in him died with her. But still, instinct told him to eat. And to drink. And to sleep.

He awoke on this particular day to the sound of snapping twigs and withering marsh-like grasses. His body stayed motionless on the damp, soft earth floor, but his head was raised, muscles stiff along his neck, as his sunburned pink nostrils flared and his red ears swiveled back and forth, assessing who or what was coming this way. Through the woods he spied the frame of a brown stallion, smaller than he, but healthy. He trudged past the stream in the short distance and down a grassy path toward the sand dunes, the only barrier protecting this place from the beach. He couldn't smell a lick of familiarly on this bloke. Perhaps it was boredom, after so many weeks spent in the company of only himself, or perhaps he decided it might be easier to die by enlisting the help of someone else. But surprisingly, Ruxin rose to all fours. He gave his muddy coat a good shake and limped briskly down the path in the wake of the other.

Ruxin squints into the sun as he passes the first dune and then the second, his view opening up to the wide, flat expanse of the beach and the sea. He feels his throat involuntarily tighten. His dark eyes spy the same stallion in the surf. And Ruxin parts his whiskered lips and emits a hoarse, pitiful call. But he doesn't dare to move an inch forward in the sand.

R U X I N
Chestnut Overo | Stallion | Evaline X Psychedelic | 14.3 | Photo © Carina Mailwald |© Vinyl





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