The Horse

"Go ahead, darling. Chase the horse," hissed the old woman, a terrible smile stretching across her ancient skin.


1. The Old Woman Named Heriphostes

Holding the small glass orb between her fingers and twisting it around around, she was heading towards the town on her horse. One bony hand was placed around the stallion's bridle, driving it, while the other one was gingerly holding the orb.

"How many do you reccccon we'll get today, Jorden?" wheezed the old woman riding on the handsome stallion's back. There was silence, only broken by the sound of bells that hung on the woman's skirt. 

The stallion stopped suddenly and made a strange hissing sound. They had arrived at the small, unsuspecting town.

"Hurrrry, Jorden. The sun sshall rise verrrry soonnnn, so we'd better hurry up," groaned the old lady.

"Heriphostes, shall I stand watch?" came a voice out of the darkness, though there was no visible source.

"Very well, Jorden, watch guarrrddd. Remembeeeer," said Heriphostes, "silence, stillness, and stealth, that's the key."

There was a small rustle, and the old maid grunted and nodded, gripped the orb tight around her heart, then moved rather fast towards the nearest house and flew into into the wall of the house, silently and stealthily.


Heriphostes, the old woman, glided silently across the floor of the small room that housed the child of a very rich man. 

Cracking open the orb, Heriphostes awoke the child. It was a young boy at least age three. Opening his eyes slowly, he looked Heriphostes square in the eyes.
"Who are you?" said the young boy.

"Nobody. Here, take this apple," said the old woman, holding the orb out to the child, who took it eagerly, thinking that it truly was an apple.

There was a hiss, and the boy looked up at the ceiling, as if about to scream, but no scream came out. Instead the boy simply said, "I see horses."
"How many?" asked Heriphostes.

"Seven. A black one, a spotted one, and five purple ones covered in flowers. It's night time, there are stars."

Heriphostes quickly jabbed her hands into her satchel, took out a pen and a pad, and wrote down a mathematic equation.

"Touchhhh the horse," Heriphostes hissed evilly.

The boy swept at the air with his small hand.

"I can't!" he said.

"Go ahead, darling. Chase the horse," hissed the old woman, a terrible smile stretching across her ancient skin.

The boy swept his hand at the air ten times, smiled, groaned, and fell, lifeless, to the ground. The orb flew through the air right back to the evil Heriphostes' hands.

"One down, three-hundred-thirty-six leftttt," she said happily, and floated out of the room, leaving no evidence that she was there but the boy's dead body.

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