She neighs. A shiver creeps through her body. Her eyes turn to me; they are wide, alarmed. The sunset bestows a crown between her pointed ears. I speak to her in hushed tones, gentle utterances that always calmed her. She turns away. Another shiver.
I press my spurs to her flank; she remains motionless. I sigh, pulling the coarse blanket closer. My eyes wander to the illuminations below. I turn away. I turn back. The land is alive with light. Every window emits a vigil, underscoring the orange death throe of day.
She neighs and pulls me away. My eyes remain.
Having completed a MSc Historic Conservation at Oxford Brookes, Joel James has again turned his hand to creative writing, an interest he misplaced while writing his masters dissertation.