Spotted Ghosts

Swirls of flesh-stinging snow stream around a pair of dappled horses, their rumps turned against the full force. The harsh winter wind screams and moans, varying only by degrees of pitch and duration. The larger of the horses, an old gelding, pricks its ears forward with interest, its nostrils flaring gently. An image coalesces out of the white-gray darkness, partially covered by snow and an old, tattered quilt ... yet the smell is familiar. The gelding whickers a soft, pleased greeting, followed by a second from the smaller mare.

The figure hesitates, then small, bare hands pull open two strands of weathered barbed wire and begins to crawl through. A muffled sob, followed by the sound of fabric ripping. The mare snorts, clearly spooked by the sound, her ears rapidly flicking back and forth. Strips of torn quilting flutter in the cold, night wind as the figure finally collapses near the hooves of the old gelding.

A soft whicker, perhaps more of a questioning sound, than one of alarm. The bigger horse shakes itself vigorously, expelling a breath with a deep grunt. The figure remains motionless, huddled beneath its cocoon of old, faded colors. The acrid smell of hot urine taints the wind as the young mare lifts her tail high, back legs spread apart. The old gelding regard its pasture-mate, its own straw-and-ash hued tail swishes unexpectedly. Another muffled cry followed by choked coughing. The gelding steps forward, stretching its head downward to tentatively sniff at the snow covered figure.

The wind is bitter, unmerciful in its torment; choking the air with thick clouds of stinging crystals. A sudden vortex balloons the small cocoon, revealing a pair of pajama-clad legs and sockless sneakers. Two pairs of dark eyes watch, curiously, as a pale hand tries to tuck the flailing ends of the quilt. The blanketed mound begins to rock back and forth, as the banshee shrieks of the wind gather forces with the thick swirls of snow.

The gelding noses at the figure again, then slowly, its limbs collapse beneath it, the big horse settling down with a grunt. A horse sigh, as the muzzle comes to rest against a bit of the quilt; equine lips briefly nibble at the fabric. The mare edges closer to her companion, coming to stand, almost protectively, over the reposing figure. The passage of time, measured by the steady flow of anguished tears.


Globes of pale yellowish light dance drunkenly with the thick falling snow, weaving back and forth before finally one beam grows steadily larger. "Try over this way?." A wave of light washes over the slumbering horses, "Hey! I think she's over here!.I'll be god damned! " The relieved shout startles the mare and she neighs with alarm, back-stepping nervously. The gentle giant watches impassively as the flashlight sweeps over the bundled figure sleeping against its fore shoulder. A second voice, deeper, "Jesus, she woulda frozen to death out here! Poor kid." Rough, work-worn hands lift and hoist the cloth-covered bundle, "Hold the fence down, not in the mood for catching my nuts," ... laughter ... a strange off sound.


The gelding finally stirs once the two men leave, struggling to regain its footing. A sliver of silver moonlight slowly skates along the fresh wind drifts of snow, and a solitary star glitters against the brief canvas of night sky. The young mare trots up to her companion, offering it a nip along the wither before resting her head across its back. The cold air is filled with the joyous yips and barks of coyotes, their primordial voices raising the hackles of their domesticated brethren. The moon slips once more into fleeting obscurity as the two ponies drowse fitfully; spotted ghosts in the snow.