GREEN
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1933 10.35 KB 151
1933 10.35 KB 151
Untitled bootleg green
By NeccAnonCreated: 2022-04-03 03:06:34
Updated: 2022-04-18 04:12:34
Expiry: Never
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>Twigs and branches whip past your face
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>Everything stings, everything hurts.
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>Your breath comes in painful gasps
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>It feels like you've been running for days.
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>Glancing to your side, into the dark between the trees, you see them.
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>Moonlight shines off teeth and bark and hungry eyes.
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>Timberwolves.
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>You're going to die here, that's all that you can think of.
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>And you can hear the many wooden footfalls of death's minions behind you.
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>You can barely keep your eyes open, everything is exhaustion and pain.
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>But you see a flash of red ahead of you, and before you can process what it could be you're out of the woods, and onto a stage.
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>In front of you, the tall red curtain, below you polished wood.
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>You turn around, and are nearly blinded by the bright yellow spotlights.
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>In the shadows beyond, you can make out a massive auditorium, seats upon seats reaching back into the dark, with a balcony above with more seats still.
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>And in the middle of said balcony, you can just barely make out a figure sat in the middle of it.
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>"Just in the nick of time, so it seems!" The figure rises.
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"What?" You squint.
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>"Catch!" The figure tosses something to you, spinning and slowly gliding out of the darkness to rest at your feet.
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>You pick it up. It's a taxicab-yellow top hat, with a black-and-white checkerboard pattern around the base of it.
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>You look back up at the balcony, and you see no figure there.
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>A feminine voice in your ear says, "did you miss me?"
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"Aaa!"
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>You stumble forward, dropping the hat and nearly falling off the stage, but are pulled back at the last second by something yanking at the back of your shirt.
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>You spin around, and the pony now in front of you releases her mouth's grip to quirk an eyebrow at you and grin.
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>She's a small purple mare wearing that taxicab-patterned top hat, with a cerulean mane beneath it.
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>Her golden eyes sparkle in the stage lights, and a tuft of white hair peeks out from behind her ear.
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>"The only answer you need to the question in your head is this:" she jumps to the side, with a hoof held aloft.
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>"The prettiest mare I may not be, but don't always trust the things you see."
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>"I belong in this place, I belong within you."
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>"I'm a mix of the old, with something new."
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"...the fuck? Who are you?"
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>"Who's to say? Nothing's set in stone, as of yet."
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"Did you bring me here, out of the woods?"
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>"Hey, you were the one doing the running. I just had to pop up in the right place."
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>"and speaking of running, I think our time's run out." She looks at her bare foreleg as if she were checking a watch. "Don't want to be late for the rest of your life."
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>She does a pirouette and a small hop, and as she touches back upon the stage-
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>CRASH
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>You're awoken with a gasp, as the trash cans in the alley outside your window are knocked over once again.
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>You sigh, then look over from your mattress on the floor to peer out the window.
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>you see something struggling amidst the shadows and trash bags below, then wander away. The local racoons are probably at it again.
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>Though racoons, of course, don't usually gallop like that.
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>You yawn, stretch, and get out of bed.
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>Today's looking to be yet another grey, misty day.
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>after a quick breakfast of oatmeal, you put on your shoes, shrug on a light rain jacket and hike up the hill to the lighthouse.
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>You don't know why they built the keeper's cottage so far from the building itself, but oh well.
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>You're just glad to be alone out here.
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>trudging in and closing the heavy oak door behind you, you climb the stairs to the light itself.
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>Every day the same, gotta do the basic checks
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>glass unscratched
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>oil reserve full
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>lenses cleaned and clear.
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>it takes you just under half an hour to do what needs doing - there's a reason your pay is barely more than room and board.
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>you exit the tower, and take a moment to just stand and enjoy the wind.
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>Looking down the hill towards the rest of the island, it's a lonely sight.
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>You're not completely alone here - there's a village to the south, you know - but the closest human being is a full half-day's journey by truck.
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>However, if you expand your definition of "company" to more than just humans, you're not completely isolated
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>There's a number of wild horses in the region, and you occasionally get them wandering up your way
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>You try to keep your distance, since you don't have any experience with wild horses
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>but watching them gallop about is still nice
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>you give a sigh. No horses to be seen today, unfortunately. Herd must be off doing, well, whatever horses do.
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>Eating grass and whatnot, probably.
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>You descend down to the cottage again.
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>There's certainly still things that need to be done today.
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>Your garden is just starting to produce its first harvest, and you're looking forwards to enjoying the fruits (or in this case, vegetables) of your labor.
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>You need to weed the few potatoes you managed to get growing, and check if the carrots are ripe
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>You'd like to become a little more self-sufficient out here, if you can.
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>Rounding the corner of the cottage, however, you do a double take
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>There's a mare in your garden
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>She's white like seafoam, and a bit shorter than the usual horses you see around here - more pony than horse.
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>She's turned away from you, and seems to be investigating your carrot patch
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"hey! No! Shoo, you silly horse."
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>You open the gate to go rescue your precious carrots.
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>You don't know how she got in, either - normally the little fence you built is enough to keep most wildlife out.
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>She turns around, and her eyes light up
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>she gives a little nicker, and happily trots over to you
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>You look down at her, hands on your hips.
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"A garden is no place for a pony. Agh - don't step on those!"
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>She steps back - and off of one of your potatoes.
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"How did you get in here, anyway? If the bigger horses were never able to jump this fence, how did you manage to do it?"
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>She just blinks at you, horsily.
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>Look at you.
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>Talking to a horse.
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>you chuckle to yourself.
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>Maybe you've been out here by yourself for too long.
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>You open the gate and stand aside, and she trots out with no resistance.
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>You close it behind her, and go to check on the carrots she was investigating.
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>She'd already dug one up, somehow - but other than a few bite marks it seems fine.
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>And ripe, too!
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>Looks like you've got some carrot-picking to do today, after all.
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>You hear a whinny, and look over.
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>The mare's gotten up on her hind legs, leaning her forelegs on the fence and looking (hungrily?) at the carrot she "harvested."
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>You give a chuckle, and walk over to her.
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>Normally you would never go so close to these wild mares, but this one seems friendly enough.
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>You offer her the carrot, and she happily starts crunching away at it.
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>What you find very odd, though, is the situation - normally you never see one of these horses by themselves, when one is around there's always more.
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>Is she a lost filly? That would explain the size.
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>She doesn't seem gangly like a filly, though. Just a regular-proportioned horse, but smaller.
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>The mare trots off, carrot in mouth.
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"Have a good one, you silly little mare."
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>Anon dreamed.
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>He was at the top of the hill, where the lighthouse was - but there was no lighthouse, only him.
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>And the horse, the mare he saw today - she rose out of the water to meet him.
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>But she was a unicorn.
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>Her mane was slick and heavy with seawater, and her white coat shone in the moonlight.
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>Indeed, the moon was particularly bright.
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>she rode up on the water, the tide taking her all the way to where he stood - and she kissed him on the lips, gently and gracefully.
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>When she opened her eyes, she had the same bright gaze she had in the garden, when stealing his carrots.
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>He woke up to a noise outside - the creaking of the garden gate.
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>The cottage was still dark, it was still the middle of the night, or perhaps early morning.
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>Sighing, he got out of bed. Must've not latched it properly after that last bit of weeding.
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>The wind was just going to pull it back and forth the rest of the night, if he didn't latch it properly now.
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>shrugging on a sweater and shuffling out the door, the source of the noise was revealed.
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>In the light of a bright waxing moon, was a certain little white mare sniffing about his garden.
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>Upon hearing the front door open, her ears flicked towards him, and with a flick of her tail and a slow half-turn in his direction, she raised her head to look back at him.
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>In the shadows cast by the moon, he swore she wore a knowing smile.
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>His heart fluttered, though he couldn't fathom why.
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>It's just a horse, Anon.
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>An overly friendly animal interested in your vegetables.
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>she gave a breathy little nicker, like a chuckle.
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>Suddenly, she didn't seem so much like a filly anymore.
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>Cunning eyes - and a subtle lick of the lips.
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>Anon shut the cottage door as fast as he could, locking it behind him.
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>His heart was still beating a mile a minute, his fingers were shaking, and his trousers were suddenly feeling a little tight.
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>'What the FUCK is going on here.'
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>'Am I still asleep?'
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>'Why am I afraid?'
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>His mouth felt dry.
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>He stumbled through the dark cottage over to his sink, and got a cup of water.
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>His hands were still shaking, and he felt out of breath, but at least his throat felt a little less parched now.
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>He heard an amused whinnying outside.
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>'Can't deal with this shit, right now.'
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>Anon crawled back into bed, and fell asleep to the sound of the crunching of carrots.
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>The morning came far too soon.
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>Checking the garden for any harm done, it seemed his midnight encounter hadn't been a dream - a few carrots were indeed missing, though oddly enough the gate was latched closed, rather than left open as he expected.
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>Had the wind blown it... shut, after she'd had her fill?
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>Anon sighed - better to not ask too many questions. Best get a lock for the gate, instead.
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>And fortunately, today was the day for beginning the process of obtaining such a thing.
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>Once a month, a truck and its lone occupant would make the half-day's journey up to check in on Anon.
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>He'd load Anon up on canned goods and other miscellaneous living items, and take any requests for the next time he came around.
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>Then, after giving the lighthouse a quick glance, he'd get back in his truck and go on his way, leaving to the north - apparently there were other lighthouses up that way, though Anon had never seen them or their lights.
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>It was often his one social interaction for the entire month, overly friendly mares not included.
by NeccAnon
by NeccAnon
by NeccAnon