by 1125
Year: 
2016

The beast neighs, piercing the thick evening air

With his cry of protest.

A flash of light in his eyes.

Flames

Against the black of night.  

A hoof paws the powdery Alabama ground

Kicking up a mushroom cloud of dust.

The metallic taste of blood in his mouth

From the tug of the bit.

He pitches his neatly groomed mane

Tossing it like a ship on stormy seas.

He snorts, nostrils flared

Rage surging through his veins

Like a flash-flood of fury.

Spurs

Sharp in his side

Blood trickling down

His hindquarters.

He bucks.

Splintering

As a body hits the split rail fence.

Snap

Neck broken

Like a dry twig underfoot.

Full moon

Peeking its innocent face out

Through a black forest of clouds.

It bathes the field in light

Empty except the crumpled body in the corner

And hoof prints

Walking straight through the fence.

Darkness oozes into the empty stable

Pooling in the corners

Saturating the dirt floor

Darting its shadowy hand

Into the vacant stall.

A board nailed to the post

Placed by the townsfolk

Etched with the word

Diablo.

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