A stallion - black in both body and soul - walks the burnt ground of the Threshold. He is a unicorn, but still he is more or less a rabid dog. His sleek, onyx black, horn bears rust-colored streaks of dried blood and his hollow eyes possess a red and yellow color that is - to say the least - unsettling. He is covered in dust and mud and, as he throws his head up and down, white droplets of foam is spread hither and dither from his mouth.

This stallion has no name, no history and no meaning or direction. He is a shell - a robot - controlled only by bloody desires and killer instincts. He has no emotions lest it is malice or lust for either blood or a mare. He roams the world like a black shadow of death and destruction and words have no affect on him. His mind is severely twisted and he seems completely mad.

With eyes rolling and head tossing from side to side the stallion stumbles on. Sweat is covering his black body, but he doesn’t seem to understand that it’s hot and that he should find shade. His knees are bloody from falling due to his careless stride and the loose end of a rope dragging under him doesn’t help to keep him on his feet. The other end of the black, tattered rope is tied around his withers and every time he steps on it the base of his neck is chocked with a violent tug from the rope. From his shoulders streaks of blood has colored his hide brownish and old and new sores are visible around his withers. From time to time he gets a notion to pick up the rope in his mouth, but he never learns to always do so.

Since he haa no name the stallion has come to listen to one word which is often spoken to or of him. He knows not the exact meaning of the word, but then again he knows so little about anything, but over time he have began connecting the word to himself. The word is Monster. And a Monster he is. A hollow, black shell. A murder machine. The scum of the earth. A shadow of madness… A rabid dog.


"Speak speak"

A great, light stallion comes. He is tall and handsome with eyes that are the direct opposite of The Monster’s - where the dark one has fire and emptiness the pale one has ice and life. Fire and ice two equally destructive elements connected to two stallions seemingly the opposites of each other. The Monster is shaggy, slender and not to mention mad. And the spotted stallion has a regal touch to him, his hide must be pristine white when it’s not darkened by sweat and his composure speaks of someone who has great control.

The Monster stops and turns his head in a weird way - almost like a reptile - as he sees the stranger. His unnaturally wide mouth twitches in something that must be a mad man’s smile. He grinds his teeth together as if he’s thinking, but the dead gaze of his eyes suggests different.

"Dripp, dropp!" he says like a child watching the rain fall. His tone is childish as well, but his voice is mature and rough.

It was not obvious what the black stallion referred to with those words, maybe he meant the dripping of the melting frost from the other stallion’s icy blue horn or maybe he saw before him the dripping of crimson blood. Nevertheless, he started tossing his head from side to side cutting through the air with his onyx horn. A loud snort erupted from his widened nostrils and then he charged - horn pointed towards the white broad chest of a stallion that had probably just come to invite him into a herd.

Blood… The blood of the white stallion - it runs down the horn of The Monster, leaving little crimson streaks. Dripp, dropp.

Before the mad stallion has completely passed the stranger a counter attack is set in motion. The icy horn of the white one is closing in on The Monster’s ribs - probably searching for the soft flesh in between the bones. The rabid dog jumps sideways and stumbles over his black rope. His hindquarters dance away to the right while his neck is tugged downwards because of the sudden jerk of the rope. The bigger stallion has also turned and as The Monster’s head is pulled down he scratches his right cheek on the icy blue horn that is pointed towards him. Pain. But he pays no heed.

Dripp, dropp.

The black unicorn regains his footing and moves closer to the bigger stallion. The Monster’s red and yellow eyes rolls in their sockets as he rears up - kicking his forehooves at the other to protect his chest and ribs from the icy horn. There is no meaning behind this attack, no motive; it is just the way he lives. Kill! He longs to see more of the white stallion’s blood and he ignores the bleeding dash he himself now bears across his cheek.

The smell of sweat and dust fills the air around the black monster. His head is spinning from dehydration and his hind legs trembles a bit under his weight, but he shows no signs of stopping the pointless assault. He angles his horn down towards the white stallion. The old rope dangles between his kicking forehooves and for a second it’s not quite obvious if The Monster is going to plunge down on stay on his hind legs, but then he falls forward.

Together the black and the white unicorn rise up from the burnt ground. Grass crunches, dust is kicked up and it almost looks as if the air is moving around the two warm bodies. Like a hot day in the desert. The Monster is wet all over, he has travelled far and even if his brain seems to ignore the body’s needs the fact is that he will not keep on his feet for much longer.

Nothing comes of the clash. A slick hoof glances off a flecked shoulder and an icy horn makes a small cut behind a black ear before the white one rises above the Monster. Then they plunge down just as they have risen - together.

The regal ice stallion starts to circle, but the Monster knows nothing of tactics and follows after just a second of collecting himself. But the trembling of his exhausted legs, the stiffness of his body after the long travel and the heat finally takes its toll. The capriole the Monster has started ends with him on his knees. The scabs are broken and dark blood colors the brown grass under him.

He rolls to the side and an irritated snort passes his nostrils and then he throws his head around as he furiously kicks with his legs to get back up. Almost up he throws himself after the white stallion again, but he acts to soon and again he ends up on the ground. The scene is almost pathetic, but still a bit sad, like a fly with its wings torn off that desperately tries to fly anyways. Once more The Monster rises and jumps after the light stallion. This time he stumbles on the rope and as his neck and head is tugged towards the ground his rear end goes off to the right. He falls on his side and rolls half way around - kicking and throwing his head about as if he is trying to slash the other with his horn.

The black unicorn is dirty, covered in sweat and bloody - mostly by his own doing. His body has no strength left, but his red and yellow eyes rolls madly - whites showing. Slowly his kicks become less furious and he stops tossing his head around. With flanks heaving, nostrils vibrating and legs trembling the black monster finally gives in to his exhaustion. Slowly his devil eyes closes and he falls into something between unconsciousness and sleep.

The merciless sun climbed higher and higher in the sky and then, when it had reached its highest point, it started to descend. Hours had past, hours in which the black Monster rested. His almost unconsciousness had after a while changed into a relaxed sleep. He slept like a child, like he had no worries about the world or fears about the future. And seemingly he didn’t.

Then, when the coolness of the afternoon finally closes its hands around the forest, the beast begins to stir. It starts with the twitching on a black ear, then his eyes moves under the eyelids. His blood-red nostrils widen and close multiple times and the long legs stretch out on the dry earth. Then he opens his soulless but yet fiery eyes.

Heavy with sleep the Monster unsteadily lifts his head and forequarters. Sitting on his rear end and hind legs the unicorn stallion suddenly freezes and when his eyes fall upon the other stallion holding his rope something happens…

In a split second his dead, murderous eyes change into something more lifelike and less devilish - still they don’t betray any emotion, but suddenly the creature seems to see and almost understand the world around him. The beast also gives a resigned sigh as he watches the bigger stallion. His muzzle points downwards and he gazes up from under his forelock - looking almost like a begging dog.

The Monster - who was once a flurry of movement - now sits very still in front of the regal flecked stallion. He seems to be waiting for something, maybe he is biding his time until the white stallion relaxes and he can once more attack heedlessly, but the strangeness of that new gaze in his eyes suggests that this is not the case.

Stars start to light up on the darkening skies and a half moon shows its pale face between little deep blue clouds.
"Master." The Monster says suddenly.

”You are but a dog! Simply a tool for anyone to use as they see fit! And without a master you are doomed to madness - without a leader you will be a monster!”

The cursed stallion shakes his head and his tangled mane dances free of the dried sweat on his neck. His, now more waken, eyes watch the flecked king - his king, his Master. The moon had changed Master’s eyes, just as Master’s teeth around the rope had changed Monster’s. But the pale stallion looks almost blind in the moonlight - blind or as he is under a spell of the moon.

Monster is under a spell. A spell he don’t understand - a spell that makes him want to do anything master asks of him. A tool for Master to use as he see fit. And the spell can never be lifted. If anyone tried it would surely kill the black unicorn, but maybe that would be better for both his mad soul and the world around him.

The slight tug of the rope vibrates through the black, dirty body and before he even knows it himself the Monster is standing on all four hooves. His neck is respectfully lowered and he avoids the gray gaze of Master. The rope now hangs slack between them - like a living metaphor of a newly started bond.

The Monster awaits the next command.

The Monster had no interest or even understanding for what was going on inside the other stallion’s mind. If he had been normal, maybe the black unicorn could have appreciated what a strange situation he had put Master in. But the beast knew nothing and he remained in the same position until another tug pulled on his sore neck and muffled words reached his ears.

Under the pale moon the Monster trailed after the white stallion. He had a strange look on his face - he looked calm, almost happy. But his red and yellow eyes stayed emotionless and smoldering. He was a ticking bomb and Master needed only to point and give the order. But for now the Monster would be perfectly happy just to graze and sleep for a while. Maybe he could do that wherever they were going?

[Aaaaaand fade to black….!]