“Hey there, lad,” I said to the horse.The animal shook its mane, but didn’t look otherwise perturbed by my presence. Then again, he—and I couldn’t help but think of it as a he—was much bigger than me. What did this beast have to fear from one scrawny human woman shivering outside in her nightdress?The horse was coal black and, when he moved, dapples of moonlight scattered coins on his hide. His tail swished with the sound of running water but it was his eyes that mesmerised me. They seemed to glow with an unearthly gleam. Or maybe it was just a quirk of the low light. I couldn’t be sure. I thought again of the little horse carving now on the mantelpiece. Of bone bearing a rusty smear of my blood. Here in the dark it was easy to imagine that I had somehow conjured up this steed of dreams whose hooves crushed the foliage in my garden. Even now he bruised the lavender bushes, and the scent hung heavy in the air.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
P is for púca – The Bestiarum Vocabulum #books
I have another short story out [sound of much rejoicing and fanfare]. P is for Púca, aka If Wishes were Horses is a tale that appears in Western Legends' rather interestingly named Bestiarum Vocabulum (Tres Librorum Prohibitorum). Never mind Roald Dahl's Dirty Beasts... I think this collection will offer some truly terrifying creatures.