Bridget's Fame, March week three entry
this is an eleventh-hour idea; I haven't had time to fully develop it, or, well, even run a spell check. Horrifying errors of grammer may be contained herin ;-D
Tess woke up in the dark of night. She had been waking at night for a long, long time, usually in a fit of coughing. But tonight, there was no cough. Tess looked around the room, searching for what had woken her. It was a bright night; the moon lit her room with its bluish light.
She listened, but there was no sound of anyone else awake. The house was as silent as, well as a house would be with everyone inside it sleeping. Her lungs felt clear, as clear as they ever were these days, and her breathing was easy. By all accounts, she should be fast asleep, yet here she lay, awake.
Tess sat up, and strained her ears. She finally heard it: a distant thudding, the sound of horse’s hooves. Many, many horses’ hooves. Tess leaned over so that she could see out the window. The moon hung like a great cold lantern above the treeline, and the stars spread across the sky like sugar spilled on a table; the town was awash in the same bright light as her room.
Tess saw them, then; a herd of horses, all different shades of white and grey, galloping along the ridge and down into the forest. There had to be more than a hundred of them, their manes and tails flowing like blue flame in the eerie moonlight, their backs shimmering like parti-colored pearls.
Her cough chose this moment to return, with compounded fierceness. Tess was doubled over her drawn-up knees with the force of it; when it was finally over, she wiped her mouth and was not surprised to see that she had brought up blood. Though she had been expecting them for some time, the red spots were startling.
She looked out the window again, but the horses had all disappeared into the forest. She might have thought that she was dreaming, but the blood-flecked handkerchief in her hand was too real. Tess coughed again, and reached for the bottle of Laudanum that was always nearby. She swallowed some, and was soon asleep again.
~*~
Morning brought another coughing fit, and more blood. Tess lay in her bed, watching the lace curtains blowing in the breeze and thinking about the herd of horses she had seen last night. Morning also brought Hattie, Tess’s maid, and nurse. Tess hid her handkerchief under the pillow; she was to tired to face the uproar it would cause.
“Good morning, Miss,” Hattie was the only servant in the house with only one duty: to look after Tess, and keep her comfortable and presentable.
“Good morning, Hattie.” Speaking was such an effort these days, but then everything had become effortful. “Did you hear the horses last night?”
“Horses, Miss?” Hattie frowned, “I didn’t hear anything last night.”
“Yes, there were about a hundred of them, galloping by up on the ridge. They were beautiful.”
“Oh, no, Miss, you must have been dreaming. There’s no one around here that has that many horses. Now, what would you like to wear today? Your sprigged muslin?”
So Hattie dressed Tess and got her down to breakfast. Tess asked if anyone else had seen or heard the horses, but no one else had been awake; Like Hattie, they all concluded that she had been dreaming. Not even the livery stable had more than a couple dozen horses, and those were mostly heavy creatures used to pull the mail coach.
Everyone was lingering at the table, talking and drinking tea, when Mrs. Walsh, the head housekeeper, came in and whispered in mother’s ear. Mother looked at
Tess, her eyes filled with fear, before she left the room. The chamber maids must have found the handkerchief. A few minutes later, Mrs. Walsh was back for Father, and Tommy was sent running for Dr. Hannigan.
Dr. Hannigan could of course do nothing. He listened to Tess’s lungs, confirmed the tuberculosis had reached a new stage, and prescribed more Laudanum. There was nothing left to do but make Tess comfortable, and wait.
~*~
Tess stayed awake that night, to see if the horses would return. She sat by the window, looking at the stars, and the moon, wondering at how different the ugly arid landscape looked at night. At midnight, she heard them; louder this time, galloping along the base of the ridge, just behind the grain warehouse and the livery stable. There seemed to be fewer of them tonight, but perhaps not.
She asked again at breakfast next morning if anyone had heard or seen the horses. She was not surprised when no one had. Dr. Hannigan was summoned again; he said that the increased dosage of Laudanum could be causing an hallucination. There was nothing he could do, the Laudanum was necessary to keep Tess comfortable, and the hallucinations were harmless.
The horses were back the next night, this time crossing the open square in front of the stockyards. There were only about fifty of them this time. They were so close now, Tess could see their muscles bunching and rippling under their pearly coats. She could see their flaring nostrils, and their firey eyes.
Tess stopped asking if anyone else had seen the horses. She also stopped taking the Laudanum at night; everyone in the house was so accustomed to hearing her cough that it didn’t wake them any more. Each night the horses got closer and closer, and there were fewer and fewer of them. They would cross the town on the residential streets now, and Tess could feel the vibrations their pounding hooves made when she leaned on the windowsill.
One night, they thundered past her very gate, and she imagined that, as they passed, they were looking up at her, watching her watching them from her window. There were only about five of them left, but they still shook the house with their passing.
The next morning, she looked around at her family. She noticed that thy all were watching her, too; furtively glancing her way every time her breath hitched. Every time she coughed, her family, and all their servants, paused in what they were doing and stared at her. It was as if time stopped for them every time she coughed. Maybe it did; maybe her illness was holding everyone in its grip, and they would not be able to move on with their lives until hers was over.
That night, she put a pair of her brother’s trousers on underneath her nightgown. She waited until the rest of the family was asleep, and slowly, painfully made her way down the stairs and out onto the porch. She rested there until she heard the hoofbeats; it seemed that this night there was only one horse left.
She was making her laborious way to the gate when the night horse thundered up. It was a great white beast, ghostly in the darkness of the new moon. It stopped and regarded Tess over the gate, its flanks steaming, its nostrils flaring, its eyes liquid fire.
Tess approached it, reaching out her hands and tentatively brushing her fingertips along its shoulder. It flinched its skin, turning its head around to blow at her face. It nudged her gently with its muzzle. It was not afraid of her, nor she of it. Its touch seemed to give her strength.
She wound her hands into its mane, and it stood patiently while she climbed the gate and slid onto its back. Its skin was cool and silky, but warm and hard underneath. She lay along its neck, breathing in its scent: a sort of spicy horsiness that was at once strange and familiar. The night horse moved away from the gate, and the bottle of Laudanum dropped from Tess’s hand.
They galloped out of town, the horse rocking Tess gently on its back. They entered the forest, and melted into the rest of the herd. Tess looked around at the surrounding sea of luminescent backs and manes tails, and the sea of fiery eyes, numerous as the stars above.
The next morning, Dr. Hannigan was summoned a final time. There truly wasn’t anything he could do this time. The mourning wreath went up on the door shortly after he left, and the windows were draped in black. Inside the house, rather than the typical hush and static of tragedy, were the sounds of waking.
Tess woke up in the dark of night. She had been waking at night for a long, long time, usually in a fit of coughing. But tonight, there was no cough. Tess looked around the room, searching for what had woken her. It was a bright night; the moon lit her room with its bluish light.
She listened, but there was no sound of anyone else awake. The house was as silent as, well as a house would be with everyone inside it sleeping. Her lungs felt clear, as clear as they ever were these days, and her breathing was easy. By all accounts, she should be fast asleep, yet here she lay, awake.
Tess sat up, and strained her ears. She finally heard it: a distant thudding, the sound of horse’s hooves. Many, many horses’ hooves. Tess leaned over so that she could see out the window. The moon hung like a great cold lantern above the treeline, and the stars spread across the sky like sugar spilled on a table; the town was awash in the same bright light as her room.
Tess saw them, then; a herd of horses, all different shades of white and grey, galloping along the ridge and down into the forest. There had to be more than a hundred of them, their manes and tails flowing like blue flame in the eerie moonlight, their backs shimmering like parti-colored pearls.
Her cough chose this moment to return, with compounded fierceness. Tess was doubled over her drawn-up knees with the force of it; when it was finally over, she wiped her mouth and was not surprised to see that she had brought up blood. Though she had been expecting them for some time, the red spots were startling.
She looked out the window again, but the horses had all disappeared into the forest. She might have thought that she was dreaming, but the blood-flecked handkerchief in her hand was too real. Tess coughed again, and reached for the bottle of Laudanum that was always nearby. She swallowed some, and was soon asleep again.
~*~
Morning brought another coughing fit, and more blood. Tess lay in her bed, watching the lace curtains blowing in the breeze and thinking about the herd of horses she had seen last night. Morning also brought Hattie, Tess’s maid, and nurse. Tess hid her handkerchief under the pillow; she was to tired to face the uproar it would cause.
“Good morning, Miss,” Hattie was the only servant in the house with only one duty: to look after Tess, and keep her comfortable and presentable.
“Good morning, Hattie.” Speaking was such an effort these days, but then everything had become effortful. “Did you hear the horses last night?”
“Horses, Miss?” Hattie frowned, “I didn’t hear anything last night.”
“Yes, there were about a hundred of them, galloping by up on the ridge. They were beautiful.”
“Oh, no, Miss, you must have been dreaming. There’s no one around here that has that many horses. Now, what would you like to wear today? Your sprigged muslin?”
So Hattie dressed Tess and got her down to breakfast. Tess asked if anyone else had seen or heard the horses, but no one else had been awake; Like Hattie, they all concluded that she had been dreaming. Not even the livery stable had more than a couple dozen horses, and those were mostly heavy creatures used to pull the mail coach.
Everyone was lingering at the table, talking and drinking tea, when Mrs. Walsh, the head housekeeper, came in and whispered in mother’s ear. Mother looked at
Tess, her eyes filled with fear, before she left the room. The chamber maids must have found the handkerchief. A few minutes later, Mrs. Walsh was back for Father, and Tommy was sent running for Dr. Hannigan.
Dr. Hannigan could of course do nothing. He listened to Tess’s lungs, confirmed the tuberculosis had reached a new stage, and prescribed more Laudanum. There was nothing left to do but make Tess comfortable, and wait.
~*~
Tess stayed awake that night, to see if the horses would return. She sat by the window, looking at the stars, and the moon, wondering at how different the ugly arid landscape looked at night. At midnight, she heard them; louder this time, galloping along the base of the ridge, just behind the grain warehouse and the livery stable. There seemed to be fewer of them tonight, but perhaps not.
She asked again at breakfast next morning if anyone had heard or seen the horses. She was not surprised when no one had. Dr. Hannigan was summoned again; he said that the increased dosage of Laudanum could be causing an hallucination. There was nothing he could do, the Laudanum was necessary to keep Tess comfortable, and the hallucinations were harmless.
The horses were back the next night, this time crossing the open square in front of the stockyards. There were only about fifty of them this time. They were so close now, Tess could see their muscles bunching and rippling under their pearly coats. She could see their flaring nostrils, and their firey eyes.
Tess stopped asking if anyone else had seen the horses. She also stopped taking the Laudanum at night; everyone in the house was so accustomed to hearing her cough that it didn’t wake them any more. Each night the horses got closer and closer, and there were fewer and fewer of them. They would cross the town on the residential streets now, and Tess could feel the vibrations their pounding hooves made when she leaned on the windowsill.
One night, they thundered past her very gate, and she imagined that, as they passed, they were looking up at her, watching her watching them from her window. There were only about five of them left, but they still shook the house with their passing.
The next morning, she looked around at her family. She noticed that thy all were watching her, too; furtively glancing her way every time her breath hitched. Every time she coughed, her family, and all their servants, paused in what they were doing and stared at her. It was as if time stopped for them every time she coughed. Maybe it did; maybe her illness was holding everyone in its grip, and they would not be able to move on with their lives until hers was over.
That night, she put a pair of her brother’s trousers on underneath her nightgown. She waited until the rest of the family was asleep, and slowly, painfully made her way down the stairs and out onto the porch. She rested there until she heard the hoofbeats; it seemed that this night there was only one horse left.
She was making her laborious way to the gate when the night horse thundered up. It was a great white beast, ghostly in the darkness of the new moon. It stopped and regarded Tess over the gate, its flanks steaming, its nostrils flaring, its eyes liquid fire.
Tess approached it, reaching out her hands and tentatively brushing her fingertips along its shoulder. It flinched its skin, turning its head around to blow at her face. It nudged her gently with its muzzle. It was not afraid of her, nor she of it. Its touch seemed to give her strength.
She wound her hands into its mane, and it stood patiently while she climbed the gate and slid onto its back. Its skin was cool and silky, but warm and hard underneath. She lay along its neck, breathing in its scent: a sort of spicy horsiness that was at once strange and familiar. The night horse moved away from the gate, and the bottle of Laudanum dropped from Tess’s hand.
They galloped out of town, the horse rocking Tess gently on its back. They entered the forest, and melted into the rest of the herd. Tess looked around at the surrounding sea of luminescent backs and manes tails, and the sea of fiery eyes, numerous as the stars above.
The next morning, Dr. Hannigan was summoned a final time. There truly wasn’t anything he could do this time. The mourning wreath went up on the door shortly after he left, and the windows were draped in black. Inside the house, rather than the typical hush and static of tragedy, were the sounds of waking.