Ruth Littner

We rode through the night, through the ages, we four, on the back of a brittle, impossible skeleton horse, galloping, galloping, he bucking us, trying to loose us from his coldhearted bones, riding harder and harder, kicking up dust and filth along the way, but we riders laughed at each other’s jokes with happy faces, holding on tight, ignoring his mania and disrespect for us until one by one, the bones fell away creating a nothingness beneath us and our joy turned to shock and then to pain and then to realization, all four of us at once, that we had been riding a ghost, a fakir, an imposter skeleton horse, one who never wanted riders, but we melded ourselves into a unit of one and created a new horse, a stronger horse, one who was solid and lovely and kicked up no dirt, a regal being who brought sunshine to the darkness and strength to us and we rose, and we mounted, and we again smiled, then laughed, and saw the true happiness in each other and knew that we had saved our world and we flourished and another new horse was born, a majestic and graceful being that shone and we ride like that now, the four of us, on the back of decency, kindness, and virtue.