The Riderless Horse
The night was a stream of cold, the wind did howl, and none beheld the sight
Of shadows, dark and horrid, storming loudly through the night.
The shadows flew, high and fast, above both house and fields lit dimly,
As the Wild hunt came riding -
Riding—riding—
As the Wild hunt came riding, both terrible and grimly.
The riders wore shadows on their backs, with hoods both black and deep,
Armour scuffed and faded, with eyes caused skin to creep.
As they flew through the clouds, with nary th’ sound of a sigh,
As the wild hunt went charging,
Grim and silent charging,
As the hunters all came charging, beneath the torrid tempest sky.
Over the town terrible hooves and pointed claws tore across the sky,
And red eyes peered in windows, blood-red and sly,
for any sign of those not sleeping, but none did stir
Inside the shuttered houses,
The snow-topped unlit houses,
The quiet, silent houses, and so they passed on in a stygian blur.
So none did see a dark horse as its rapid gait did slow,
As the terrible beast stopped in the square of Exeter, its dark coat flecked with snow.
Its eyes were red and shining, its coat made of shadow and shade,
But the horse had lost its rider,
Its dark and silent rider,
The rider that it loved, who far behind in snow began to fade
The horse peered around the dark town on the dark and stormy night,
As the snow swirled up around it, sparkling and white;
Yet, it did not stir as the hunt began to climb,
Shadowed sharply by the moonlight,
Beneath the depth of moonlight,
As the hunt rode towards the moonlight, leaving the coal-black horse behind.
It rose and shook off the cold-clinging snow with a shiver
But none did hear the horse as trotted 'long the frozen river
This terrible and magnificent shadow-coated beast;
As it moved shadowed by the moonlight,
(Oh, the cold and cool moonlight!)
As it moved swiftly by moonlight, and flew away 'towards the east.
The horse paced the countryside in darkness, by the dim light of the moon,
As it came upon a town, its hooves on stones rough-hewn,
When the clouds kept guard above the silent moors,
The shadow horse came walking —
Walking—Walking—
The mount-less horse came walking, up to an unlit door.
It did not make a sound, but placed its eye near the keyhole instead.
But none did see the beast, for all were deep asleep in bed.
The lanterns flickered above the beast, as it turned away
To look into the windows,
through every shuddered window;
For the horse did seek his rider in this town, sleeping and grey.
But its feet did leave marks, curved and strange, in the snow.
As it searched around the houses, determined and slow.
With a sigh it moved on, to the abandoned path of the hunt
shadowed sharply by the moonlight,
Beneath the depth of moonlight,
Where the hunt had ran through moonlight, leaving the coal-black horse behind.
It moved on to the next house, but lo, the doors held tight
It pawed and snorted at next, in the silence of the night
It followed a hidden trail by darkness, and the hours crawled like years
Till, at the stroke of midnight,
quiet at the stroke of midnight,
The horse gave out a fearsome cry, for a noise had reached its pointed ears!
It stood still as a statue, yearning to hear the sound once more.
It quickly stood to attention, as it turned away from the door.
It would not risk missing that elusive sound again;
For the town lay cloaked in the darkness;
Cold and eager in the darkness;
And the heart in its chest beat rapidly, to some secret shadow refrain.
Stamp-stamp; stamp-stamp! Had the beast heard the sound? The pad of boots in snow so clear;
stamp-stamp; stamp-stamp, in the distance? Footprints coming near?
And far over the moors, in the depth of the snow,
The riderless horse went running—
Running—running—
Its gait desperate and stunning! The shadow-horse flew fast and free.
Stamp-stamp, in the gloomy silence! The hiss of hooves, in the snow-covered night!
Nearer and nearer the horse ran, Its eyes a gleaming blood red.
As it looked for the sign of its rider; It ran ever swift,
Then a black form lit by moonlight,
on a distant hill by moonlight,
stood a dark shadow, which one hand did lift.
The horse ran towards it, swift as a bird,
And their joyful reunited cry no soul ever heard
As the rider and loyal horse were together once more
Under mysterious blanket of darkness,
the ever-stretching darkness,
were happily reunited in darkness, on a dim snow-covered moor.
Then, the rider did mount, as they both let out a victory roar 'towards sky,
With the silent towns dark behind them and a longsword wielded high.
Blood red were the horse’s eyes; coal-black the rider’s cape;
When they charged into the sky,
A mad tempest of darkness to the sky,
And they left the ground to meet the sky, and to join the hunt again.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
And still on a February night, they say, when snow lies on the moor,
And when a desperate wind comes to whip 'round the doors,
The Wild Hunt comes riding above both house and fields lit dimly,
The Wild hunt comes riding -
Riding—riding—
The Wild hunt comes riding, both terrible and grimly.
Over the streets and fields they come, when the night is deep and cold
And sometime leave the hoofmarks seen by both young and old,
Made by the feet of the once riderless horse,
Now carrying a rider,
A dark-armoured silent rider,
Who rides near the head of the hunt.
(Written in the style of Alfred Noyes’s poem, The Highwayman. Inspired by the Devil’s Footprints phenomenon in Devon, England, 1855, and the myth of the Wild Hunt)
The Radio Operator’s Guide to the Apocalypse
1. There are seven days left. If there are not, then you were never meant to find this. Treat the words that follow as mere fiction, and hope that you never have to use them.
2. Tell nobody of what you know. Do not speak the words aloud, even if you think you’re alone. You’re not.
3. Before going into work, you must first visit the radio towers. Make sure your phone is fully charged, and bring a paper map with you. Take anything that is of particular value to you—you will need it for bargaining, later.
4. To get there, drive. If you do not have a car, borrow somebody’s, and do not take ‘no’ for an answer. Public transportation is too dangerous, especially at this stage. The Others have already taken their control.
5. As you drive, you will hear a piano through the radio. Nobody is playing it.
6. When you enter the mountains, follow your map to the meter. If it changes, and it will, continue to follow it exactly. Even if you have taken this trip a hundred times before, you are entering territory you know nothing about. Be careful.
7. There will be a man waiting for you next to the towers. He will be dressed as a mechanic, except for the patch on his shoulder.
8. A black patch means that you have already failed. I am sorry. Return home, if you can, with the days you have.
9. If there is a red patch, approach him and offer to shake his hand. You must be the one to make this offer. He is susceptible to formality, and by doing so, you have gained the right to ask him one question.
10. Ask him what is wrong with the towers. He will tell you.
11. When you look away, he will be gone, but his toolbox will remain. Use it to fix the towers. Don’t fall.
12. Once you have fixed the towers, return to your studio. Do not go home. You will not be able to go home again.
13. Enter through a side door. The Others will be watching the front and the back. Lock the door behind you, especially if it does not have a lock.
14. Do not speak to your co-workers. Not yet. If they try to ask you a question, avoid any and all eye contact. They may be Other.
15. At your console, turn the frequency of the radio down, until it reaches 9 Hz. When you reach 1 kHz, the dial will begin to fight you. Fight back.
16. Once you have reached 9 Hz, turn the radio on and speak into your microphone for five minutes. At no point should you stop speaking for more than a second, nor should you turn around. There is nothing to see.
17. After five minutes, any Others in the building will have left. They do not like low frequencies. Return to your co-workers, and only then may you tell them what you know. Each of them will have a guide, too.
18. For the next 156 hours, keep your radio show going:
a. You will not need food or water. Fixing the towers has seen to that.
b. Be sincere, and speak of more good than bad. Your audience will be composed of more than you can fathom.
c. At 7 AM each day, change your frequency to 1500 kHz, and at 7 PM, return it to 9 Hz. This will ensure your words reach everybody they are meant to.
d. Music (preferably Beethoven) should be playing in the background. If transmission ever ceases, you will not survive the next minute.
e. When you accept calls, and you must, do not answer immediately. Instead, hold the phone at arms-length, and ask them—clearly and without stuttering—if they know what time it is. If they answer, they are human.
f. On the third day, there will be a knock at the door. It will be the man from the mountains. He will tell you that the towers are broken again, and that you need to come and fix them.
g. Do not listen. One of your coworkers will volunteer to go with him, for their guide tells them to. Say goodbye, and do not feel guilty. The mechanic deals only in trades, and what is one life measured against many?
h. On the fourth day, the lights will go off. On the fifth day, they will turn back on. When they do, one of the Other will have entered the building. They will wear the face of another of your companions.
i. They will seek you out. If you have followed the instructions up to this point, you should have brought possessions that are worth much to you. Leave your station and bring one to the fuse box.
j. There will be a loose wire, throwing sparks onto the ground. Press your object against the wire and close your eyes. You will feel a fuzziness in your head—do not worry.
k. When the world returns, the object will be scorched and unrecognizable. You have successfully extended your life to the end of the world.
l. Make sure your listeners enjoy the show. You are, after all, their host.
19. At 9 PM on the final day, bid farewell. Tell those who are still listening to sleep well, and to dream of a better tomorrow. They deserve it.
20. Open the door. There will be an Other waiting for you there. There is no reason to fear them, not anymore.
21. You must thank them for allowing you to continue the show. They will compliment you for your commitment, but you will decline it. Accepting anything, even words of praise, will put you in their debt.
22. There will be no sun in the sky, nor will there be stars. Do not look for them.
23. Everything has been set in motion. Climb to the roof of your studio, where your dish resides. That will be where you wait out the final hours.
24. If you wish, write your name on the metal. A fountain pen and inkwell will already be waiting for you, but do not take them. They are not yours, and their owner will be displeased if she finds them missing.
25. At midnight, the Others will decide. You have given them your words, transmitted through the bones of your planet. All you can do now is hope they are enough.
7
“Are you having temperature fluctuations?” said a booming voice.
“Yes,” came a melodic, singsong reply.
“Do you see flashing lights? Hear a constant buzzing?”
“Yes. Yes, exactly! And I have trouble breathing.”
“You have humans.”
A short pause, like a quiet desert at sunrise. “I was afraid of that.”
“Why did you wait so long to come to me?”
“I thought I could deal with it on my own,” said the cosmic singsong voice. “I tried famine, flood, drought, plague….”
“That won’t work,” the booming voice said. “They’ve spread everywhere. Filled your lungs with toxins, contaminated your blood. Without drastic measures, you won’t last 24 hours.”
A racing beat that pounded like an earthquake. “What kind of measures?”
“… Apocalypse.”
A sharp intake of breath that roared like a hurricane. “Not again. It took me years to get over the last one.”
“I’m afraid so. But we’ve had advancements since eradicating dinosaurs. The procedure will only take seven minutes. Recovery time will be a few months.”
“Seven minutes?” said the melodic voice, with a tremble that echoed like thunder. “Will it be painful?
“Yes…very. But you will be rid of humans forever.”
Another pause, like the dead of night. “I’ll do it…”
There was a violent jerk in my stomach and I shot backward through space, past streaks of stars, galaxies and planets, zoomed for a crash-landing on earth and sat bolt upright in bed.
What the hell was that?
Outside my window, a black shadow eclipsed the rising sun, turning the world a cold grey.
And a booming voice echoed in my head.
“Seven...”
The countdown had begun.
Perfection in Paint
The waters lay quietly, ever sublime,
as the sky creates its magic in a foray of colors,
casting shimmering gold hues,
rippling reds and faint oranges,
on a night filled with nothing but quiet.
Clouds form their serpentine shapes,
wrapped lazily against a nightscape soon to be misting shadows.
Therein lies the sadness.
It never lasts.
The sun after the rain-
I am beautiful, I think
With an oversized t-shirt
Baggy pants for full coverage
Low fat shake with a teaspoon of hurt.
I smile,
The best ones are upside down
The mind is the true enemy
Even without makeup, I’m a clown.
Excessive amount of fatness
Curves that are too thick for the eyes
Cellulites and thunder thighs
Underarm wings that can possible make me fly.
Stretch marks like tattoos
All over my naked body
Neck with extra roles
Mirror on the wall, be honest, I do look funny.
Come on self-esteem
Boost something new and hopeful
It’s a new year already
Tired of the old and the doubtful-
Wake up, breathe in and breath out
It is a brand new day
Start with abundance of love and joy
Let the negative fade away.
I am beautiful, I know
Yes confident where have you been?
Look at these luscious imperfections
And that smile, true beauty from within.
Embracing thy body
Let the judgmental eyes see
No coverage of shame no more
Taking the first step of the new me.
The Water And The Sun
Before the world contained creatures, there was Water. She just so happened to fall in love with the Sun, who was always above her, shining. The Sun was deeply in love with the Water, as well and wanted nothing more than to be close to her.
One day, the Water asked the Sun, “Is there any way for me to be with you in the sky?”
She replied sadly, “No, for you would be burned beyond repair.”
“Then please just bring me closer to you,” the Water pleaded, and the Sun wanted the water with her, as well. So, the Sun bestowed upon the Water her rays of light. The water flew up into the sky with joy, the light shining through her bursting into thousands of colors. But, once the Sun seemed almost close enough to touch, the Water began to fall back down to the earth. Devastated, she cried every tear she could bear to shed as she descended. The Sun frowned and shone less brightly, causing the world to fall into a gloom.
However, the Sun is always giving the Water the gift of her rays as to be closer to her, even though they must never touch.
Glitter
I love her like you love Christmas cards and wrapping paper. I love her in theory and for moments at a time. I love her like things you don’t keep.
She is broken and damaged and shattered and I want to run my hands through her hair like glitter and see if it cuts me like broken glass.
She is rough around all her beautiful curves. Eyes always bright from constant crying. I want to kiss her cheeks and see if she tastes like the ocean. Dip my toes in the edges of her water.
I want to explore her and find all her broken seashells or glass splinters both beautiful and dangerous and best tossed away so as not to damage people.
I want to put her in a box under the edge of my bed and pull it out in the middle of the night when I’m alone and watch her shine in the dark under the reflection of the moon. Like broken glass does so well.
