mihtal

all the world is waiting for the sun.

It is likely my sub consciousness, more than anything else, which leads me to the large gathering of equines. While I am a loner by nature (introverted, quiet, and comfortably holed up in this iron shell I have long-since made my home), I am a ‘herd animal’ by instinct. Through the most primordial laws of my very being, I am drawn to the crowd, unconsciously searching for the protection and security that supposedly rests within a herd (all luxuries I have long-since convinced myself I do not need). All the same, before I realize it, I’m at the fringes of the multitude, hardly recalling the details of the journey here.

Abruptly I pull back (too abrupt, my movements are jerky and awkward—I can feel the eyes on me even as I turn my gaze towards the ground; I can feel the judgement and shame wash over me in hot, suffocating waves). My lips press tight together as I breathe through my nose. Nostrils curl and flare in tandem with my narrow sides, breaths too fast to indicate comfort, and I begin to imagine that the white clouds of my warm gasps are building a tangible wall towards the rest of the world (not unlike the walls I have erected and secured in my mind).

On unsteady legs, I shuffle backwards, sighing as the trees throw their shadows over my back. They don’t have to notice me; I can hide. It’s a long moment—or is it only a matter of seconds?—before I’m able to raise my eyes again. Thick lashes flutter before I attempt to ground myself, my eyes glancing up slowly, and the long length of my tail curls tightly around my narrow hips. From what I can see, no one shows any sign that they’ve noticed my folly; all has continued as normal, as if I hadn’t shown up in the first place. I can’t decide whether I’m more comforted or more discouraged by that simple fact.

“…And remember! Bones must be brought here!”

The deep, booming voice reaches out to snag my attention. Somehow I’m aware that this strange, oceanic beast has been speaking to us for the past little bit—but the specifics of his words are a blur, lost to the haziness of insecurities and instability. With an ear slanting uneasily to the side, I watch as some of those in the crowd either question, accept, or simply observe the task that this creature—(who is he? Is he a God of these lands? A monarch?)—has assigned to us. Unable to decide if I care enough to be unsure myself, I turn away, eyes searching through the earth for death. Silently, I slip away as gracelessly as I had come.


“Speech.”