The Centaur

The creature looked like it had galloped straight out of Narnia, through my wardrobe, and into the living room. I stood and stared at it, unable to comprehend the nature of its very existence. The only word that came to mind as I looked at it was ‘Centaur’. Half-human, half-horse, what else would you call it?

        “Is that-”, I gulped, “Is that a costume?” the thing didn’t respond. I flinched as its ears twitched and it stamped a hoof. I observed its waving tail and decided that this was no costume. After studying it I realised it was quite obviously a he. His human anatomy looked male in any case. His chestnut brown coat just looked mangled, like it needed a thorough brushing. I licked my lips nervously.

        “Do you understand me? Do you speak?” I asked him, simultaneously wondering if I had finally lost grip of my sanity. His eyes fell upon me for the first time.

        “Of course I speak.” His voice was deep, rumbling, like an earthquake bringing on the destruction of my world as I knew it. I hid my face in my hands and took in a deep breath. Removing my hands I looked up at him, taking in his large stately figure, his lank black hair, his brown eyes, his elvish ears and finally looking at his muscularly built horse body.

        “What are you?” I asked. To my surprise his nostrils flared in what I could only interpret as anger, or perhaps indigence.

        “Did you ever consider that it might be more polite to ask who I am?” He responded rhetorically. He was most definitely feeling affronted. Interesting, it had emotions.

        “Well… who are you?” I asked rather abashedly, ashamed of my poor manners. In my own defense I never thought I needed to study the etiquette of centaurs.

         “Who are you?” He demanded, still sounding rather offended. Fantastic, he had sass.

        “My name’s Isaac. What’s yours?” I said, going over to my sofa and taking a seat, worried my legs would give way. He then folded his legs and lay down too.

       “I was never given a name." He said softly. "But I have always liked the name Dominic. Could you call me that?" I looked at him wide-eyed.

        "Yeah. Sure. Of course. Why-" I licked my lips, "Why don't you have a name? And what are you doing in my home?" I asked.

         "I was never given one. The scientists who raised me only gave me a number. You see I am the result of some kind of mutation. Some sort of experiment. I don't understand how it works and I don't care to. As for how this day brought me to your humble abode... A woman named Sarah left me here. She said the person who lived here, you, wouldn't be home for a while and I'd be safe here." Dominic answered. Alternating waves of pity and confusion washed over me. "She took me from that place, saved me really." he continued, fondness in his voice.

Of course she would have. I had no idea how or when or where. But I could understand why. I sighed. If I hadn't had to come home early from my trip, I'd never have known about this. I dialed Sarah's number.