by Tim Curran
He comforted Black Beauty with soft petting around the head and gentle words. He calmly tried to talk him into standing, warning the horse to move slow and easy in case his legs wouldn’t hold. The eye stared at him, as if taking in every word, and the horse let out a snort. Heat had come back to the body very quickly, Willy could feel it radiating. He stood up slowly himself, still saying his soothing words of encouragement.
Before Black Beauty stood up, which was done quickly and with ease, the eye blinked shut for a few seconds, and upon re-opening, it was no longer black, but a glowing, traffic light red. The horse reared in the storm, filled the area with a shrieking whinny to end all, and motioned its head at Willy, as if to say, “Get on.”
He took some time to hoist Chad up on the horses back, and gathered their things. Just before mounting himself onto his returned from the grave, demon-horse, Willy noticed the goat still moving. He was pretty sure Chad had mentioned the ritual calling for a sacrifice, not just a stabbing. Yet it had worked just the same. Chad’s final blow had been insufficient and poorly targeted, and left the goat suffering on the stone. Willy picked up the knife, still hot from the lightning - Willy was now sure he had not imagined it. He brought it across the goat’s throat, opening veins and arteries across it, and watched it bleed out until it was no longer breathing. He thanked and apologized to the goat, in what he believed to be its final moment.
He climbed upon his Black Beauty, who seemed annoyed with anticipation, and they headed home. The horse ran like it was his first time, with a speed and dedication that Willy had never felt.
Tim, Mike, and Greg, had been excessively bored the last couple of days. Since the last score on goods when they had crossed Chad and Willy, they anticipated finding them again. However, yesterday and today they had not been in school. Tim knew that Willy all but lived alone, and wondered if maybe these two clowns had finally grown up and were skipping school to get drunk or stoned. Mike and Greg agreed that the three of them should be included in such an event, and decided to pay a visit to the Marsh farm. Of course their intent would not be to share in any of the activities, but claim them for their own.
Sarah was asleep in the hay when Willy walked into the barn. Chad remained unconscious on the back of the horse. Willy wondered why Sarah would pick such a spot to sleep, and suddenly felt very sad for her. The poor girl had been in a serious accident and could’ve been severely hurt, as well as had the horse underneath her smashed to death. Willy felt guilty for just letting her go off without him. It was his fault that these things had happened to her, and he was angry with himself for it. He wanted nothing but to see Sarah happy, and to be able to do things for her. Now she was laying alone in his barn, mourning his horse, so depressed that a sleep had claimed her. He woke her gently.
“Sarah…”, he touched her shoulder. “Sarah, wake up, there’s something you should see.”
She opened her eyes to see Willy and immediately started crying again.
“No, no, no, don’t cry”, he comforted her as she threw her arms around him and buried her head into his chest. “C’mon, Sarah, there’s something you need to see.”
She started an apology as he stood up and headed for the barn door. He wasn’t listening, but she was going on anyway. There wasn’t a second between when he opened the door and she caught sight of Black Beauty. She would have fainted instantly, had her instinct not told her that Willy had found an identical horse, and somehow afforded it. But quickly evidence came up to prove otherwise. Aside from her knowing Willy would be unable to just replace his horse, she saw the wounds in its side and some flesh missing from around the knees. The red eyes and the unconscious passenger told her that something had happened. Something was different, and somehow, they had brought Black Beauty back from the dead. She looked at Willy, who was staring at his steed, sporting a very satisfied smile. To see him happy, brought a smile to her face as well.
“Help me get Chad inside, and I will explain.”
When Chad came to, he was laying on a couch inside the Marsh home. He rubbed his face with his open hands before he noticed Willy and Sarah sitting across the room from him, staring.
“What the fuck happened?” He asked. “Did it work?”
Willy held back no excitement as he gave Chad the update. He explained how Chad had passed out at the same instant he completed the ritual. He also told him how the goat was not quite terminated, and that he had finished it off. Chad interrupted at this point.
“That is why I passed out. My stab missed its mark, and I think the demons tried to claim me as the sacrifice. With no proper sacrifice, they would be really pissed off. It’s a good fucking thing we weren’t resurrecting a person.”
“It did work though, Chad,” Willy countered. “Black Beauty is in the barn as we speak, standing on all four and looking better than ever, never mind all the gashes and lost flesh, anyway.”
“Will, listen. The ritual works on a demon possessing the corpse of the deceased. These particular demons we summon are rather harmless, especially in the body of an animal. They long to be summoned like this to exist in our world. If the ritual is fucked up though, like ours was, they don’t get to use their full arsenal of power. Had Black Beauty been a person we were trying to bring back, he would have killed all, when he realized how bad I fucked it up.”
Will considered all of this, and argued, “Chad, the horse is resurrected. I can see the demon in its fiery red eyes. I finished off the goat and I think these ‘demons’ were satisfied with that, because B.B. let us on his back and took us home. And he performed better than I have ever seen him, running faster and harder than he ever did, even at his youngest and best shape.”
Sarah listened to the boys argue, her mouth hanging open in a combination of shock and disbelief. Had they really summoned demons to bring back Willy’s horse? Had they actually killed some innocent goat in a sacrificial trade-off? She wasn’t sure how to react to any of this information. A part of her wanted to leave and put the two of them behind her. She didn’t really want to be any part of demonic summoning, especially if it was real. On the other hand, Willy was the happiest she had ever seen him. The last thing good in his life, as he said, was taken away from him, and now he had it back. She continued listening, staring into Willy’s smile and excitement.
Chad slid into a sitting position, felt the start of a scab across his forehead, then shook his head as he explained further to Willy. “You say the eyes were glowing red? The demon is there then, which means they had not fully realized the failure of our sacrifice. Or maybe they have let us slide, and you killing the goat was sufficient enough. We need to check on her. If, in fact, the demon came to Black Beauty without knowing the summoning was incomplete, it may have left all the same. If that is the case, your horse will be dead again in that barn. “
Willy sighed at Chad’s refusal to acknowledge that everything had worked out, however shady, their ritual had been performed. Sarah agreed to make something for the three of them to eat, while Chad and Willy headed outside to the barn. Chad was sure that Willy was soon to be devastated again, while Willy was sure Chad would be amazed. They left the house still arguing, as Sarah started water to boil for some pasta.
Janet stared out the window. Terry had decided to take one last drunken stroll around town in search of his goat, before finally putting all the blame on William Marsh and confronting him. Janet had her first thought about anything other than Levi in a long time. She thought about Terry, and what all of this had done to him. She wished he would talk to the Marsh’s and learn some kind of forgiveness, because from what she could tell, both Will Marsh and Terry would probably benefit greatly from each other’s company. One was a father without a son, the other a son without a father. Something happened to her during this thought, and the potential of her imagined companionship motivated her. Terry had been on a path of heavy drinking and uncontrollable anger at the most trivial of things, and she was sure her mourning in silence for so long had contribut
ed to both. Right then she decided that best for her, Terry, and even the spirit of their son, Levi, was an end to life the way all of them were living it. A new start, and maybe a new family.
As she stood up from her chair to grab the phone and make a call to her husband, something caught her eye out the window. The first time in too many months she would have spoken words to Terry, she was distracted, and never got the chance.
The goat was in the yard. She laughed and shook her head. It had taken a leisurely walk it seemed, and returned home all the same. Meanwhile her husband was driving all over town, too drunk to stand up properly. She grabbed her coat, intending to get the goat inside and out of the rain, where she would then make her call with more good news aside from her plan. The return of the goat would help her break the stubborn ice, weakening Terry’s surly defense, and allowing her to present him with her thoughts and ideas.
When she walked into the yard the goat was just standing there, staring up at her. It seemed to be staring through her so much that she cast a glance behind to see that there was nothing else the goat may have been looking at. She called to it, but it did not come. It simply stood and stared. She advanced towards the goat, still calling words (her first in a long time) to coax it to her. It remained still. Finally, when Janet was only a foot or so from the goat, she stepped down to one knee and extended her hand with a bit of lettuce she had grabbed from the fridge. The goat still did not move, but she was close enough now to see why. There was a bit of blood coming from its stomach, staining the grass below, and a slice had been made across its neck. Small amounts of blood came from this wound as well, though not nearly as much as there should have been. She gasped at the sight and lost balance on her one knee, falling over into the grass below the goat. At last it moved, with a swift and savage lunge of its mouth to Janet’s throat, and quickly tore her to pieces.
Tim, Mike and Greg had gotten to the Marsh farm shortly after Willy and Sarah had carried Chad inside. They made way to the door, but stopped when they heard a whinny from the barn.
“Didn’t his fucking horse die? I didn’t think this asshole could afford another horse,” said Greg.
Tim had processed the exact same thought. “There’s no fucking way, this kid is as poor as they come. He doesn’t even have a fucking family. “
Tim was furious. He never could grasp the reality that anyone else should have something he wanted. Granted, he had never wanted a horse, but he had always wanted the money to be able to replace his problems instantly. As always, when as angry as he felt at the moment, Tim formulated a plan.
“Come on, let’s check this out.”
The three of them went into the barn to find the horse in his stall, leaning against a wall. Tim’s plan was to steal the horse and make Will Marsh cough up a ransom for it with all this money he was clearly sitting on. When they got closer to Black Beauty, they saw his wounds.
“What the fuck,” Mike said.
“Is this,” Greg stuttered, “the same horse?”
Tim shrugged. “It sure fucking looks like a horse that has been mowed down by a truck, doesn’t it?”
Black Beauty did not move during their approach, nor during conversation. Tim looked around for something to lead the horse out of the barn with, determined to persist with his mission. He had imagined Will to have more money than originally thought, because now, rather than a new horse, it seemed he had paid some amazing doctor or vet to revive his horse. Anyone who could afford to fund the works of a science not yet mastered, and give up such money to keep such an animal, would cough up more money to see it again after Tim and his goons had taken it.
“Mike find a leash or whatever so we can walk this fucking thing out of here. Greg you take those carrots on that bench and feed it a few, earn its trust. I will keep watch at the door in case those fags show up.”
He grabbed a pitchfork next to the door and stood with the barn door cracked open just a tiny bit, and stared into the windows of the house, watching for any movement. Mike searched the barn for whatever it was Tim wanted. None of the three knew anything about horses, but Greg, who was gently petting its nose and offering it a carrot, knew that it wasn’t supposed to be this cold.
“It’s freezing Tim, there is no warmth to its body at all.” Upon further investigation, he was also able to discern that the horse was not breathing. Yet there it stood, its pitch black eyeballs fixed directly on Greg, leaning against the wall, clearly distributing weight off its legs which were wrapped in cloth and duct tape. It had moved its head slightly at the first carrot offering, but did not take the vegetable. Greg turned to Tim to suggest he come take a look himself. His carrot-arm rested on the stall gate, he used his other arm to motion for Tim to come. During that motion, the horse’s head came down and bit into his rested arm.
Tim and Mike both dropped whatever they were holding as they turned quickly to Greg’s scream. The first thing they saw was blood, then this kid’s arm caught in the mouth of a horse. Greg thrashed and yelled, tears practically shooting from his face.
“Let go! Let Go! Motherfucker!”
Mike grabbed Greg and pulled, slapping the horse’s face. It would not let go. Tim picked up the pitchfork again and dashed the distance of the barn, putting all of his force into a thrust of the pitchfork. It buried into the horse’s neck, but the horse seemed unfazed. As he removed his weapon for another strike, Greg and Mike both managed enough strength to pull Greg free from the clutches of the horse’s jaws. They fell backward and hit the ground with a hard thump. Tim looked down at them, and gasped, his face twisted in disgust. When Mike and Greg stood, they examined his forearm, which had a huge stretch of flesh missing from it. The bone was exposed, even though the blood, and muscle was torn all around the hole. The flesh had literally been ripped from his arm, and when they looked up, the horse was again leaning against the wall, chewing the last bits of meat it had stolen. They fled from the barn, and headed to Mike’s house, which was closest, to patch up Greg. They couldn’t take him to the hospital, they did not want to admit to the trespassing or their purpose for such.
Tim, his anger at a full boil, did not want the authorities involved anyhow. Will Marsh would fucking pay for what his horse had done, Tim would see to that.
When Chad and Willy entered the barn, their first sight was of the red stains throughout the hay on the ground. Willy looked up at Black Beauty and his heart stopped. The eyes were no longer glowing. The wounds had gotten bigger, and flesh seemed to be falling off of the horse. The horse leant against the wall of his stall, and looked just as dead as when they had carried it into the woods earlier that day. Chad was right, the demon had left Black Beauty, who now seemed no more than an animated corpse. Chad hung his head in disappointment.
“Will, we failed. The demon is gone. Your horse is but a corpse again.”
Will did not understand. If the demon had left its body, then why did the horse not fall dead again? It was clearly suffering, barely able to hold itself up, and seemingly unaware of anything around it. “What now then, Chad?”
“I say we try again. Right here. There’s a bit in my book somewhere about failed rituals and how to correct them. Unfortunately that book is at home, so I will need to go grab it. You should come, I don’t think it’s good for you to stay and see Black Beauty like this. Plus, my mom might not let me back out if you don’t come. With you I can convince her that we are doing homework or some shit. Let’s move.”
Willy did not argue, and ran inside to tell Sarah where they were off to, and they left.
Terry pulled his truck into the Marsh driveway, and left it idle. He grabbed his shotgun, mumbling curses upon the Marsh farm and family as he walked up to the door. He was unsure of his intentions. His severe inebriation had rendered him unable to reason with himself, or even think ahead. Up to this point it had only led him to banging on the door of the house with his shotgun in his other hand. He was well aware that his mind may be aiming in the direction of emptying a bird shot int
o this kid, and somewhere in the back of his mind that was not fueled completely by trauma and hate for this family, he was happy that no one answered the door. There was a light on in the kitchen, and upon investigating through the window, he saw a table set with a bowl of spaghetti in the middle, but there didn’t seem to be anyone inside, and the dinner remained untouched.
Satisfied that he had gone through with coming to the house, he started back to the truck when he noticed the barn door slightly ajar, and a light on inside.
Of course, Terry thought, he’s sitting there in the barn, crying over the loss of his fucking horse. A fucking pet.
Terry’s biggest issue with William Marsh was that he hadn’t experienced a loss half that of he and Janet, yet to the kid, the death of his horse was the end of his world. Terry knew that as time went on, there would be other horses, other pets for Willy, whereas for he and Janet, there would be no other kids. Terry stood outside the barn, all of the thoughts from dinner earlier racing through his head once again, and he raised his shotgun and kicked open the barn door.
When he saw the horse, his disbelief almost entirely clouded his purpose. Here was this animal he had seen dead, and was personally responsible, yet it stood alive somehow, though it looked more dead now than when he had hit it. Its face was covered in blood, its ribcage almost totally exposed. Some organs were falling out of the gap in its chest and stomach, and one of its legs was completely bent in half, its hoof nowhere near the ground.