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When did it suddenly become cool to hate everything? It's a growing problem, especially in the entertainment world, and no one benefits from an increasingly hard to please, pessimistic audience.
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She didn't know how long she lay there, drifting in the dark. Pain and fear had sent her mind scrambling away from the physical form she was forced to wear, to a warm and soothing balm of nothingness. Not since the time before her birth could she remember this delicious feeling of non-being.
Reality came back in a howling rush of agony and terror. And with it, memory. The pregnancy had been bad. And long. Far too long. The foal had not come when it should have, and still it grew. She knew it lived, she could feel its heart, its soul, just as she had with the others. But that soul... oh how it chilled her. Something was wrong with it. From the moment she had felt its soul singing with hers, there had been a sense of discord. When labor finally happened, she was unprepared and barely made it through a gate to the world of the foal's father before collapsing, pain blinding her. It felt as if small animals had shredded her from the inside out. She could smell blood, could feel it soaking the ground around her. Grunting, Nyx lifted her head a little, scenting for her child. Was it alive? She saw him before she caught his scent. He was standing a few feet away, near her head. Yellowish eyes followed her weak movements with a detached way that made her shudder. Her blood streaked his coat. He was big. Far bigger than most newborns. As he took a few steps towards her, she saw that he, ironically, had inherited her unique tail. Flaring her nostrils, she breathed her son's scent in, and reached for him with her very soul as he came within mere inches of her. And flattened her ears, flailing her legs, agony shooting through her damaged body. "No." The colt, confusion flowing into his strange eyes, stopped and backed up a step. They stared at each other for a few moments, and then he made a soft noise of inquiry, moving closer. Nyx lunged forward, her body quivering. Weakened as she was, her powers flared nevertheless. Beneath his tiny hooves, the ground began to buck, and the colt scrambled backwards. Winds tore at his tiny body, drying the last of the slick blood, and a storm was stirring in the distance. "I will kill you," hissed Nyx, her teeth barred. Legs splayed to keep his balance, the foal looked upon his fallen mother, his loveless eyes returning the promise. As darkness swallowed the misty ground around them, he finally turned and fled into it, leaving the immortal mare to sink back to the cold ground. She lay there, trembling. "He is our doom," she thought. ------------------------------------ This is the fourth and final child of Murc and Nyx. His element is water, which made him the best candidate to inherit the mist tail from his mother. Many many many hours. PS CS2, Painter X, and mouse. Nyx (c) me Un-named foal (c) me and *freeburgfreak Reference from [link] Lightning brush by ~Scully7491 |
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March 29, 2008
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Community News400 When did we start hating everything?`Rahll
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Comments
What a wonderful wonderful wonderful story! Gripping stuff, seriously. Its PERFECT! Poor Nyx
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But wow... this is amazing. Instant fave. Wonderful story too. You write really well
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the pic is just, perfection
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