(no subject)
Per ceruleancat's request:
Night Mares
It wasn't a nightmare, per se; Lionel was not afraid. Bewildered, confused, surreal somehow, yes. Who wouldn't be? He saw horses, wild horses, rushing around his bed, raising dust in their wake. The smell of the prairie, of grass crushed beneath hundreds if not thousands of hooves. The dirt settled around him, on his bed, and he climbed from beneath the blankets and let it cover his skin in a thin layer that felt like a shield. He eyed one of the horses, a beautiful chestnut one with a stripe of white between his eyes. Waited until just the right moment, when the beast stormed past him, and jumped on its back. With his hands buried in the thick mane, the muscles quivering under him, nothing between him and this great, noble animal, he felt free, felt more powerful than ever. He breathed in the scent of the herd, raised his head and howled at the wind.
He woke up and looked beside him. The red digits claimed it was 3 AM. And he couldn't go back to sleep.
Quietly tip-toeing out of his room and past Lex's, he stopped out of habit to listen to the slow, even breathing of his sleeping son. He moved past, on and downstairs, taking a coat from the hanger by the door, walking out of the main house and into the stables.
He recognised the horse immediately. This was his horse, the one he rode on the last time he rode at all, quite a few years ago. It was awake and looked at him with deep, wise eyes. Lionel carefully removed all his clothes, the coat he'd put on, the pyjama top, the pants. He folded them neatly and placed them on a nearby ladder. Left his slippers by the wooden wall.
The horse looked at him when he walked it out of the stables. There was a question in the gaze, but Lionel didn't answer until they were both outside, under the star-studded sky, when he leapt atop the steed and rode out, head thrown back and a laugh on his lips.
Night Mares
It wasn't a nightmare, per se; Lionel was not afraid. Bewildered, confused, surreal somehow, yes. Who wouldn't be? He saw horses, wild horses, rushing around his bed, raising dust in their wake. The smell of the prairie, of grass crushed beneath hundreds if not thousands of hooves. The dirt settled around him, on his bed, and he climbed from beneath the blankets and let it cover his skin in a thin layer that felt like a shield. He eyed one of the horses, a beautiful chestnut one with a stripe of white between his eyes. Waited until just the right moment, when the beast stormed past him, and jumped on its back. With his hands buried in the thick mane, the muscles quivering under him, nothing between him and this great, noble animal, he felt free, felt more powerful than ever. He breathed in the scent of the herd, raised his head and howled at the wind.
He woke up and looked beside him. The red digits claimed it was 3 AM. And he couldn't go back to sleep.
Quietly tip-toeing out of his room and past Lex's, he stopped out of habit to listen to the slow, even breathing of his sleeping son. He moved past, on and downstairs, taking a coat from the hanger by the door, walking out of the main house and into the stables.
He recognised the horse immediately. This was his horse, the one he rode on the last time he rode at all, quite a few years ago. It was awake and looked at him with deep, wise eyes. Lionel carefully removed all his clothes, the coat he'd put on, the pyjama top, the pants. He folded them neatly and placed them on a nearby ladder. Left his slippers by the wooden wall.
The horse looked at him when he walked it out of the stables. There was a question in the gaze, but Lionel didn't answer until they were both outside, under the star-studded sky, when he leapt atop the steed and rode out, head thrown back and a laugh on his lips.