Horses On A Highway

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wouldn't recommend this.

Submitted: September 16, 2015

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Submitted: September 16, 2015

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It started with the rattling of the leg, the blood drained thumping of the heart, it worked it's way up to the torso with a violent convulsion. A flash of light in my peripheral caught my attention, but not enough to avert it. Shaking the urge to see who opened the door. Blinking light after blinking light. Outside, two dead horses, maybe three. Inside, carnivorous birds of prey capture their victims demise. However involuntary, the birds were to blame. The life of a penned up stallion, degraded to one instant in time, captured eternally, gawked over, lauded. Was it the death, or was it the horses? Deeper inside only monotony. What can't be lauded is immediatly discarded, peripheral lay eternal in the embankments of our 21st century skulls. Was it the death, or was it the horses? Some sick twisted combination of the two. Vultures lined up for their chance to share the glory. The raptors reply quicker, insticntually. Immediatly the culture boxes captivate their young minds. So much information, so much to see. It's quite difficult to resist the urge to mutate. So they gawk, dead horses. Shrivled up in the arms of some one barely a stranger, I can't look. It wasn't the death, it wasn't the horse, it was the moment inbetween the two. No longer a horse, reduced to carbon. No longer fit for life, struggling, bleeding, convulsing, gawking eyes in the peripheral of the soon to be deceased. They were only horses. 



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