Ghost Horses

The dismal, drizzling midnight and happenstance finds her lost by an empty field with few things left to lose and even fewer shames concealed. She lifts her face to the rain and loses herself to nature's forces. When at last she looks back down; she first sees the ghost horses. Two white ones, one brown or black, and one that is merely gray. The sky cries or is it the tears in her eyes that makes her want to stay? To approach them, be with them, let them carry her away? To simply turn her back and quit her shattered hopes of yesterday? One white one stands facing her, the other one lays down. The gray one turns away from her, as does the brown. Lightening flashes, they disappear, she sees only empty ground. Alone in the rain she awaits the coming crashing sound. She rages at the sky as the thunder shakes the trees. The blast of wind or her ache of emptiness drops her to her knees. Tornadic blasts of wind and hail molest her as they please, but when at last she looks back up she's certain of what she sees: Both white ones are standing facing her, and both are closer now. The fury of the storm makes them seem more majestic somehow. The one she thought was brown now seems as though it's black and with the gray one, it's standing farther back. She chokes a sob back down her throat as her wet hair whips about her face. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she tries to stand and hold her place. The chaos of the storm or madness tries to steal her mind away... The brown or black horse nickers, steam blows from the nostrils of the gray... The lightening strobes, the rain increases as the thunder crashes. One ghost horse walks towards her in flickering jerky flashes. Her vision blurred, she can't tell if it was the gray one or a white. She bursts with emotion and screams into the night: “This is the last time: the last time I stand idly by and watch my dreams dissolve to rust. The last time I spit my bitter disappointment to the dust; this is the last time I lose faith in someone I thought I could trust; if that means I must die, then damn it, die I must.” She strips off her soggy clothes and drops them to the ground. She stands naked in the wind and rain as the phantom horses gather 'round. She knows that they're not there - except perhaps they are, like still seeing the light in the sky at night of a long dead shining star. Her naked body feels their warmth, their combined steaming breaths. They shelter her from the raging storm, from her hopes and dreams' deaths. She celebrates her release from concern about what's wrong or right. She mounts one and rides off with them into the stormy night. Somewhere out across the fields and open empty plains A few scattered farmhouses endure the wind and rain, as the lightning and thunder tremble fences, walls and roofs; to some inside it almost sounds like galloping ghost horses' hoofs.