The Dark Moon Night

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: 'The Odd Ones'
Alone in the woods when the horseman sounds.

Submitted: March 23, 2016

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Submitted: March 23, 2016

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T’was a dark moonlit night.

The air grew cold, wrapped in a growing mist.

He had tread far along the leaf-clad path, straying some distance from the village.  The winding branches of the forest trees limberly spilled over the cowering figure.

The crack of thunder and the whip of lightning struck in the black sky.

He cowered lower, raising an unsteady arm to his brow to clear it of his sweat.

He swallowed hard.  And he continued along the trail.

His heart raced, his blood flowed manically through his veins.

Another pace forward when he heard the haunting fathom of the horse’s morbid neigh.

He turned heel and quickened pace for the village.

His slouch slouched lower as the thunder thundered louder.

The breeze that had followed him into the woods grew into a wind as he neared the edge of the woods.

Clouds formed in the sky, taking the shapes of ghoulish creatures.

The morbid neigh of the horse sounded closer.

His eyes widened.

Galloping hoofsteps patted in the distance.  It would not be long before it reached him.

He sank to his knees in fear.  He clasped his hands together, his eyes now tightly shut.

The galloping drew nearer.  Nearer.

His fear peaked.  Around the bend, the horse would be soon.

The hairs on his neck and arms rose like a frightened cat’s.

Another neigh.

He could hear the leaves rustle as the night’s mare trampled over them.

The frightened figure covered his face.

Another neigh.

The horse’s heavy breathing reached his ears.  The ground trembled with each hoof fall.

He remarked a cry of fear.  A rush of air blew past his cowardly form, then . . . utter silence.  Not but the sound of the breeze whispering amongst the creaking branches overhead.

The thunder had calmed, yet the lightning flickered.

The figure peeked between his fingers to see nothing but the path that lay ahead.

The horseman had vanished.

He sighed with relief and brushed the sweat from his brow.

It was time to return to the village.




© Copyright 2019 Jeff Bezaire. All rights reserved.

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