fleeting hopes // sunny|blitz
Jul 8, 2013 6:05:43 GMT -5
Post by semper on Jul 8, 2013 6:05:43 GMT -5
when the north wind moans thro' the blind creek courses
and revels with harsh, hot sand,
I loose the horses, the wild red horses,
I loose the horses, the mad, red horses,
and terror is on the land
I’d be lying if I said I’m not scared. I can still hear the mayor’s baritone voice calling out my name, pronouncing each syllable with a verbal force that’s nearly enough to knock me over. I clasp my hands together, bringing them up to rest my chin on as though I can think through this situation.
The first thing I realize right now is that I’m most likely going to die. Stop existing. Everything I’ve ever known will suddenly be gone and there’ll be a nothingness for however long it stays for. I’m honestly terrified. I was like this too when Haff was sent off, but fear for someone else is far different than fearing for your own life. I’m not ready, I’ll never be ready for anything like this. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, tightening my hands around each other to prevent them from trembling anymore but it’s a futile attempt. My leg starts shaking and I feel a sickness starting to develop in my stomach, much to my dismay. I can’t afford to be sick right now, especially not since in a few moments I’ll see whoever it is – if any – that wish to see me one last time before I leave for good. My eyes look up at the door in front of me, silently pleading for someone to come.
yea, the south wind sobs among the drowned creek courses
for sorrows no man shall bind---
ah, god! for the horses, the black plumed horses,
dear god! for the horses, death's own pale horses,
that raced in the tracks behind
A Gallop of Fire, Marie E J Pitt
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