Galloping Into Nothing

• Ana Gracanin, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2009

That summer, we drove up to the cabin in the hills. My parents liked to ‘get away from it all'. What they meant by ‘all' was stuff my brother couldn't do without, like broadband and TV and pizza delivery.

On the fourth day we went ‘exploring'. It wasn't exactly a Burke and Wills type project, seeing as how we had four-wheel drive, satnav, a map, mobile phones and an Esky the size of a coffin. Plus a whingey twelve year-old with his head wired to an iPod.

After an hour or so Dad said "Let's give this a whirl," and turned off the road on to a downward-winding dirt track. Eventually it levelled out and we found ourselves in a valley. It was hotter down there. Mum cranked the air-con up. The track ran alongside a dry creek; off among the scrub I glimpsed sag-roofed buildings and the ribs of old fences.

"What is this place?"

"Dunno," Mum said. "There's nothing on the map."

And then we came to a stretch of crooked, bleached-white fence, and standing behind it was a horse with a boy on its back. They were completely motionless, even though flies clouded the horse's head. The boy had hair like black snakes, and wore only a frayed pair of cut-offs. We were past them in a second. I looked back, but they were lost in our dust. No one said anything, which I thought was kind of weird.

I dozed off, I don't know for how long. I woke up when the Toyota lurched and the first thing I saw was the same rickety fence and the boy on the horse. His dark eyes met mine as we passed.

"Are we lost?" I said. "We're going round in circles."

"No we're not," Mum said.

"Yes we are," I said. "We passed that kid on the horse a while ago."

Dad squinted at me in the mirror. "What kid?"

Mum turned and looked at me. "What horse?" she said.

“Oh Nothing. Must have been a dream.” I replied. They turned their attention back to the road.

Odd. I swear I saw the horse and his boy. Must be the heat. I yawned and fell asleep.

It was dark when we finally arrived at our cabin; it was old, dusty and dirty. During dinner dad decided it would be fun if we camped out near the river a couple of miles away. We all got into the car while Brian whinged about his ipod on low battery.

“I swear if I hear one more peep from you Brian about your ipod, it goes straight into the river!” screamed mum.

When we had finally crossed over those “couple of miles” dad had spoken of it was already midnight and Brian had fallen asleep.

“Mum, where we going to set up camp?” I yawned. “Mum?”

I looked at dad, he too was asleep. I decided to go for a walk and got out of the car. The quiet lap of the water soothed me and the fresh air made me calm.

As I was heading back I noticed that my footprints were different. I turned around and saw that they all were hoof shaped. I rubbed my eyes, probably lack of sleep I told myself.

I kept walking but soon with every step I heard the sound of clip-clop that a horse makes. I started to run and it got louder and faster, am I going insane? Suddenly I heard three gunshots in the distance.

An eerie cottage stood slanting with weeds thriving in its midst while a picket white fence surrounded the mess. A voice was singing inside, a voice that melted my heart. I risked a peek and held my breath at the sight. It was the boy on his horse, ghostly pale and wounded.

As I approached him his horse turned and galloped away with him on his back through the walls. I stood transfixed. Did I just see a ghost? I turned around and ran.
I was back in the car, too scared to sleep and I watched the sun rise.

That morning while we had breakfast I asked dad if he knew any stories about the ruins we had past yesterday. He had no idea but mum had heard of one and had already launched into a story.

“ There’s an old story that a boy travelled on a white stallion, he entertained towns with his voice that melted your heart. Once while coming through to Victoria here, he was robbed right here in these hills. He was shot three times but the robbers couldn’t get him because his horse had runaway with the dead body still on it’s back.” Trailed on mum.

“What a lame story.” Snorted Brian. He put his ear phones back in and walked off.

Everyone ignored him while I pondered on the ghost. It must be the same ghost as in the story, but why is he still here? I have to go find out.

“Going for walk. Bye.” I said.

Mum opened her mouth to say something but all I heard were snorts and neighs. I frowned at her, shrugging my shoulders. She repeated what she said, she snorted and neighed again. I walked off quickly, what was going on?

As I walked by the river I felt something on my shoulders. I strained to turn around to see what it was; it felt like someone was sitting on my back. I sat down feeling weary. I looked at my hands and screamed, they were hooves! I looked at behind me and saw myself on all fours, with a twirling tail and mane and sleek powerful back.

Three gunshots went off near me and I reared in fear. I kept running while feeling a limp figure on my back hang off. I kept running, with fear, pain and confusion clouding my mind. If I run far enough it will go away, I told myself. So I kept running.

Running.

And Running.

Until I was no more.