Long, Long Ago

He rode a new horse.

A horse that was fiery red.

Yes, it was fiery red.

Its flames upon its back

Made it the nightmare of the night

But it also made it seeable

Because it was made of flames

That didn’t hurt the master

Who rode upon it.

It lived in the Amazon

Rainforest—

But the master had yellow eyes

Or evergreen eyes

Or cerulean eyes

Whenever he passed the gargantuan

Foliage.

Evergreen leaves as big as spiders’

Legs from one end to the next.

The master was hurt

Because he had another horse

Who flickered with cyan-blue flames

But this horse was killed in a mass

Killing when it was only eight years old.

Eight years.

A snowy white horse appeared,

Stopping the master on his way

To get some beer from a tavern.

Or rather a huge rabbit’s lair that

Acted as a tavern, where beer

Flowed like a waterfall.

Free and majestic.

But not the man’s days.

“Cheer up!” The horse seemed

To say.

That is,

The flickering horse

Made of red flame

But also the snowy white horse

Gave a friendly snicker.

Its gorgeous whiteness tempted

The man to steal it.

But he knew animals

Belonged to such pretty

Fairies.

He didn’t want to take

But considering these animals

Were almost like unicorns—

Such animals were so rare—

But this horse was beautiful.

He had no wife.

He could not compare beauty.

But the fairies would rain down balls of fire

And bricks of brick

Upon such a handsome creature,

Hurting it.

The fairies were known to be vicious

And vengeful, but also inaccurate

When fighting.

The man lunged, kicking his horse,

Telling it to get the white horse

And train it to remain with him.

The horse started a chase

But the horse was caught.

Ropes wrangled not once

Upon this magnificent creature.

Such a creature must be caught.

He shrugged when his own animal

Told him he’d be caught.

He’d be stoned to death.

The man roared.

“No fairy can kill me!”

The fairies found out that the white horse

Had been caught, trained and fed and watered

By the man.

He rode it, abandoning his own fiery red horse.

One night, while the crickets chirped loud,

A fairy snuck into the camp the man made for himself

And stole his own fiery red horse.

Screaming, the horse was soon shut up

In the fairies’ cave, where other horses made of

Water, sunshine, leaves, dirt or stone

Were here.

“Were you stolen, too?”

“Yes.”

“I thought they went to war with the person who stole the white horse.”

“Not anymore. They were too ashamed of their accuracy—”

“Be quiet!”

The horses fell silent.

The fiery red horse snorted a secret message

To all the horses when the fairy cave was silent with the quietness

Of sleeping fairies.

The horses each tapped out how they’d escape and return to their masters.

The fiery red horse

Made it past the first fairy who had blocked the way

But he had scalded her!

Screaming in pain,

The fairy managed to grab onto his mane or tail

But screamed from pain from the scalding hot fire.

The fiery red horse was encouraged to bolt.

So he did.

He dashed, roaring for the horses to follow.

They did, not caring how silent they had to be.

They could morph into other objects.

But the fairies had weapons and tools to catch them,

And capture they did.

The fiery red horse studied these things.

He studied how they lived,

How they would—

“Wait!” The fiery red horse said. “Running won’t work.

So let’s convince the fairies that we can sell and trade. I’ve seen them work.

They trade excellently.”

The horses agreed, so they strived to convince the fairies to trade the snowy white horses

With the ones captured by them.

One of the horses went over to the fiery horse and said

That they, the horses, had dubbed him the leader of the Horse Clan.

The fiery red horse thanked everyone, becoming a master in his own right.

The horses submitted to him, bowing their heads.

“Let our masters respect you!”

“Yes, let them honor you with the best coals and ashes and burning wood.”

The fiery red horse reared up and kicked into the air,

His fiery red mane flying, sparking the air with sparks.

When he came down, he snorted hot smoke.

The master, one day, went outside to brush his beloved pet.

“Hey there!”

The horse did not reply.

“Horse?”

The master looked, but he couldn’t find it.

“It’s—I saw it stampede away.”

“You never told me.”

“It just happened; and I was told never to say anything, or I’d be abducted to the fairy cave.”

“Let’s go!”

The master and the ranch hand stole a horse’s reins with which to direct the strong beast

To the fairy caves.

“Faster!” Ordered the master, puncturing it with his spiked heel.

The thunder of one horse—this horse being made of smoke—was not really heard.

It snorted and neighed, throwing up its head and screaming to the wind.

“Forget it!”

The master and the ranch hand used a wind horse.

A horse as swift as the wind,

Whistling, the horse sent up a signal

Of which the other horses and the fiery red one

Heard and obeyed.

They all rushed out, the thunder of horses never being louder.

The horses gathered around the master

And his ranch hand.

“Let’s go!”

The fairies watched them go, the master coming back.

He swatted the horse’s rear.

The horse ran in the fairies’ direction, stopping inside the cave.

“Where are the others?”

“I don’t—”

“Know. Find out!”

The ranch hand strived to find the horses

But couldn’t.

He told the master he couldn’t find them

Because the master wouldn’t care if they were stolen.

“Bring them back!”

The master swatted at the horses snowy white in appearance.

They all stopped inside the cave,

Looked back at the fiery red horse

And his new friends.

They all fled in the opposite direction, the master atop his horse.

He told it to stay.

Stay with him.

He didn’t wear a frown when the image of his last horse

Came to mind.

He didn’t frown or get down.

He cared for the fiery red horse.

He was grateful.

The other horses gathered but also around the master—

And his hired ranch hand.

They’re still friends even today.