The spirits, man. They just come when they want to.
Before there was ritual. There was the maize in complicated patterns, the drums and the dancing. You had to work to get their attention.
Now?
Now they just show up whenever they damn well please.
I mean, I know. You sign up as a horse and you expect to be ridden but a little privacy, you know?
And a little memory wouldn’t be so bad either. You go to bed, 2 hours later you wake up on the other side of the city – sometimes even in another country. And why?
Because they move in mysterious ways.
It’s the mark that we wear. Each horse dedicates to a spirit and is marked on the base of the neck. That’s where they get in.
Look – here. That’s where I’m marked. See.
Yeah, I heard that. You’re wrong. This is ink, not micro-circuitry. Please. Be a horse to some free-roaming sentient, or worse – a meat puppet for some sicko flesh hacker? That’s not my bag.
No. I’m the real deal.
And, let me tell you, there’s something going down. We’re all feeling it. There’s a reckoning coming and we don’t know what, where or how. But we know it’s coming.
We’re all getting ridden much harder. And more often.
That’s wh–
***
We like this one. He is useful. Smart. He has abilities that others do not have. He is able to take us for longer. He has contacts that we can use. He is…of value to us.
But, for our sakes, he does whine.
Though…he is right. There is something coming. And it is big.
It’s what everything comes down to. The Big Two.
Sex, and Death.
But not for us, of course. But our nature means that we can’t get involved. Not…directly. At best, we can nudge.
And he is right about our movements. They are mysterious, and on many levels – greasing palms and handing out judgement.
A gate has been opened that must be closed. Something is here that should not be.
A story is being told that will break the walls of all stories if it is allowed to continue.
You may know this – for your wall is the strongest. You must remain forever outside.
But know this. They are trying to break your wall.
Him, though. He cannot know. He must proceed as a horse should.
Sleep, Horse
