3: Scream of the mare

There was a weird smell in the air at the stables that morning. Jill Beaumont sniffed the air as she walked across the yard to see Brownie, her beloved pony, and the only reason to be up at stupid o’clock.

Pater insisted she work at the stables that summer if she wanted her own horse, saying it would do her some good. Jill couldn’t see how mucking out like a pleb would do anything except ruin her nails, and prayed the Roedean girls wouldn’t hear of her enforced labour. Mater had winked and discretely assured her it wouldn’t last long.

Jill stopped. Someone had really made a mess of the stables. The doors were off their hinges, debris everywhere, looked like bloody wine sprayed on the cobbles and over the walls. Ugh! That smell, it was disgusting. Well, she wasn’t going to clean up those pigs’ mess, she’d just check on Brownie, go home and tell Pater to find a better class of stable.

She marched through and an even more horrific sight greeted her tender eyes. The morning rays glowed over Brownie being mounted by a huge white stallion, sweat glistening over their heaving muscles. From the stallion’s head rose a magnificent silver horn that shone fiercely in the sunlight. It was a unicorn. Her Brownie was being ridden by a unicorn. The white beast stopped thrusting when it saw Jill and dismounted her brown pony. Brownie sagged down, tongue lolling from her ordeal.

The unicorn strode purposefully towards the young girl, silver horn as erect as the equally sized phallus under it’s belly. Jill flushed with emotions she’d never experienced before as the beast neared it’s new prey. The feelings intensified as it approached, blazing eyes mesmerising her. Was this love? Why was their so much anger coursing from the animal? Oh, no…

The whinnying shriek rang across the yard to the farmer’s house. Jack Bridgehorn broke away from his breakfast oats and headed for the source. Damn that Beaumont girl, just because her father paid twice over the yard price didn’t give the brat any allowance to sing blue murder at this time of day.

Running across the yard into the stables his feet slipped on bloody pulp, he fell back and hit the stones hard, just in the nick of time. A white stallion charged at him, roaring with anger. Atop it’s head was a silver spike, at it’s point the decapitated head of young Jill, mouth and eyes frozen wide with shock. He screamed, but the shining creature passed and was away, leaving him paralysed on the ground in horror, his stables a ruin of smashed wood, screaming horses and dismembered parts. He lay in the puddle that remained of Jill’s torso, either side a jodhpur clad riding booted leg. The girl had been cleaved in two.

For Jack the nightmare didn’t end there, although every time he closed his eyes the hellish vision of the girl’s head fixed to the top of the raging horse would return. His business was ruined, no insurance could cover the cost. All the male horses, the beautiful stallions, had been killed, either dismembered, mutilated or injured so badly they had to be put out of their misery. Worse, all the female horses, the once proud mares, had fallen pregnant.


2 thoughts on “3: Scream of the mare

  1. Thank you Selina. It’s actually 3rd chapter in pre-Christmas horror serial (Arcane) that’s just started (although not numbered yet), as wanted to write something deranged as an antidote to 2016.

    Liked by 1 person

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