we hear it.

The children loved it when we brought it home. It's beautiful, the musculature is so realistic.

After a week, the children wouldn't play on it any longer. They wouldn't go near it. We asked them why.

"It rocks too far! We keep falling off and it hurts and, and." The sentence evaporated in stammering, crying, and a haze of bruised knees and elbows from all the falls. I covered it with an old dust cloth and hid it away in the attic.

Another week passed. The children couldn't sleep. Another week passed, this one full of screams about nightmares, imagined fears, crying, unintelligible words. We asked them why.

"The horsey, it keeps walking around at night! It gets right by the door and steps its hooves and, and." The sentence dissolved in tears and clinging for protection. We took them to the attic and they watched us pull back the cloth. They watched us chain it down. We knew it couldn't move. Now they knew it, too.

Another week passed in quiet. Another week, and the nightmares resumed. More screams, more tears. We asked them why.

"I can hear it rocking in the ceiling! It squeaks and knocks into things and, and." The sentence dissipated into blubbering, wailing. We consoled the children. But we couldn't console them much.

We can hear it, too.
-writing by arklionspaw

Thankyou so much for writing this for the picture ark :3 its soooo good!



LOL! UM yes. done in pencil, charcoal and tea and wee bit of pen.