In the shadows of the trees, hidden from eyes and ears by the gloom of the storm, the rolling booms of thunder, a story walks. But what kind of story? For surely nothing good ventures out in this weather, preferring to remain sheltered in castles, or huddled around the fire in a little wooden cottage. What creature lurks in the gloom, dances in the deadly elements, capers delightedly around the sodden corpse of a rabbit?
He is the ghoul. Can you picture him? No? Let me help you.
I'll start simply for you. First, think of a horse. Does this surprise you? It should not, for what other form should he hold? This is a realm of such creatures, after all. Now, add details. Make him tall, around sixteen hands, but somewhat slender. No, no, not like that, he's no Arabian. Perhaps you need more? Alright, I shall tell you his lineage, and maybe then you will understand. Take the stocky build of a Friesian, and subtly cross it with Thoroughbred features. Is that more clear? Yes, I think you have the basics now.
Let's add a bit more now. Carefully shade him in, as if he is a paper drawing and you have colored pencils. Take your deep yellow-gold, and fill in his neck, chest, and follow his body all the way down to his hindquarters. Yes, just like that. Now, the first half of his face, leaving his muzzle clear, and avoid a small patch around each eye. Why? Because I asked you too. Good, good, you've got it now. Exchange your pencil now for black and color the blank pieces you've left, the bits on his head and those stockings covering his legs. His mane will also need to be filled in black, as will the small beard, lower half of his leonine tail, the sharp spiraled horn and cloven hooves.
You didn't expect that, did you? Didn't think that something as pure as a unicorn could be twisted into a zombie? Silly reader.
Are you finished yet, you ask? Not quite. Take up a green pencil, no, not a bright spring green. There, that sickly olive one will do nicely, and lightly overlay all the golden parts. Once you finish that, lay a faint shadow of gray over that, not much, just the lightest strokes will do. I'll wait.
Done? I believe you are. Now, we will continue our story.
Return him to the previous scene, the forest in a mighty storm. He is playing, excited by the discovery of the rotting bunny, kicking up his heels and prancing in circles around the poor creature. But suddenly, he pauses, those ebony ears pricked in the direction of a distant cry, a lost child seeking its mother. Intrigued, he delicately picks up his macabre prize by a hind leg, and goes in search of the voice. She is not difficult to find, standing sadly in one place, gentle glints embedded deep in her hide. She is crying, and our ghoul hesitates, still obscured by fog, though the stench of his toy fills the air, as does the thick smell of the marsh he resides in(what is he doing here if he lives in a distant swamp? That is a tale for later. Now hush and let me finish).
He debates for a moment, you can see it in the way he shifts, the faint flicker of his tail as it slithers behind him. Perhaps he is feeling pity for the young girl, knowing what it is like to be cast away. Or maybe he is simply wondering about death. He is a monster, after all, and she is the babe abandoned in the woods. He is unpredictable like that, and knows he could take her with little effort.
Yet, when he does come forward, it is not in a deadly charge, but a cautious walk, and he drops the rabbit at her hooves, an offering of friendship. A gift to her, his version of a teddy bear or security blanket. Gruesome, yet oddly sweet.
And then he speaks, his voice the deep ringing of funeral bell. "Persephone," he calls her.(Is he Hades? Again, a tale for later. Focus on this one, please, for soon she will respond, and you wouldn't want to miss that, would you?)
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
