Lynn, Elizabeth - The Silver Horse

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The Silver Horse

by Elizabeth A. Lynn

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Fantasy

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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original

purchaser. Duplication or distribution of this work by email, floppy disk,

network, paper print out, or any other method is a violation of international

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The author appreciates the encouragement and assistance of David Primo D'Aluiso,

Kevin Arjuna Knight, Misty Star Gottlieb, Debbie Notkin, Jim Frenkel, and

Laurence Yep.

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_For the two Susans_

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*Chapter One*

Susannah sat looking out her bedroom window at the park.

You're too old to play with toys, she told herself silently. _Much_ too

old.

Beyond the green square park she could just see the skyscrapers of San

Francisco. They seemed shiny and clean against the sky of brilliant blue.

Sometimes Susannah could look at them and pretend that they were not steel

skyscrapers but silver and gold and crystal towers.

Not today, she thought. They look like fence posts today.

Her nose itched, the way it did when she wanted to cry and wouldn't.

Rubbing it, she turned her back to the window and looked across the room. Her

brother's purple toy chest sat beside his bed, lid down. The wooden silver horse

-- Niall was crazy about horses -- stood on top.

The horse had been a birthday present. Susannah's best friend's mother,

Celie, had found it in a thrift store, scraped it clean of its flaking black

paint and repainted it with silver glitter. As its proud mane and arrogant

pricked ears caught the light, they sparkled like sunshine on the sea. It had

only been in the house three days, but it made Susannah's things -- her

checked bedspread, her pictures on the wall, even the bright fantastic jackets

on her books -- look shabby.

Niall was so pleased with it that he had stuffed all his other toys out

of sight.

There was one thing in the room the horse couldn't make shabby. Crossing

to her bed, Susannah reached beneath it and pulled out her new paint box. She

had saved her allowance money all year and had bought it for herself. Her

parents had bought her a real sable brush to go with it. It had forty colors in

it. There had only been twelve colors in her old paint box.

Hugging the paint box, Susannah walked to the horse. I bet I could draw

you, she told it. Horses were hard to draw. The difficult part would be the

head, with all the delicate detail of lips and eyes and ears. It would be hard,

too, to show the way the muscles ran on the graceful arching neck. The

musculature, Susannah repeated to herself. She had just learned the word. The

horse had very clear musculature.

Niall wandered into the room. "What are you doing?" he whined. Without

waiting for her answer, he shouted, "Ma, Susannah's bothering my horse!"

"I'm not bothering your old horse," Susannah said. "How could I bother

him, he's just wood!" Shoving the new paint box under the bed, she jammed her

fists into her pockets and went into the hallway. She had made a secret vow that

she wouldn't fight with Niall, no matter how snotty he was, for a week after his

birthday, and she knew if she stayed in the bedroom she would break her promise.

Had she been that snotty when she was six years old?

She doubted it. But when she was six, Niall was one year old. He was kind

of cute then. And they hadn't had to share a room; he had slept in her parents'

room, in a crib. One thing you could say about school; in school they didn't

have to be together the whole day as they were now. Almost Susannah regretted

that there was no school.

But she didn't want to be in school. She just wanted _Niall_ to be in

school.

The door at the end of the hallway was open a little. "Mother?" she said.

"I'm here," said her mother's voice from the other side of the door.

Susannah pulled the door further open and stuck her head around it. Her mother

turned around. "Hey," she said. "Come outside."

Susannah slid through the opening. Her mother was sitting on the top

landing with her feet on the steps. Carefully, because the steps were splintery

and because she was barefoot, Susannah climbed down two steps, sat, and leaned

against her mother's legs.

Her mother's name was Bonnie. She was tall, with golden hair that she

wore in braids or piled on top of her head. She liked to cook and she liked to

dance. But she hadn't gone out dancing in a long time, because she was going to

have a baby. She had been going to have a baby since Christmas. Susannah had

heard her say once to Celie that she liked having babies, she liked the feel of

being pregnant. Celie, who had been pregnant at the time, said, "I don't!"

Susannah didn't think she would like it much, walking around all puffed out in

front and not wearing blue jeans.

But she wondered what it felt like, being pregnant.

Her mother skipped her fingers over the top of Susannah's head. "Hey,

Susie-pooh. How you doing?"

"Okay," Susannah said. She rested her chin on her arms. "Mother?"

"Hmm?"

"When will the baby come out?" She had been told. But it was hard for her

sometimes to keep track of months.

"In September. This is June. June to July, July to August, August to

September." She walked her fingers over the top of Susannah's head again. "A

Virgo kid."

Susannah knew what that meant, sort of. It meant that the planets and

stars that were in the sky the day you were born made you act in certain ways as

you got older. Mother read about it in the paper every morning.

Susannah had asked Mr. Gonzalez, her teacher, about astrology. He had

said that the stars and planets were so far away that they couldn't make anyone

do anything.

Susannah rubbed her cheek on her mother's leg. "Am I a Virgo kid?" she

asked.

Her mother stroked her hair. "You're a Gemini. Niall, too. That's why you

fight all the time."

Susannah pressed her lips together. She didn't want to tell her mother

about her vow. Not yet.

"Hey," her mother said, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Susannah said. "I was thinking about astrology."

Her mother looked at her with an odd expression. Then she turned to

glance through into the front hall. "Niall's being too quiet. You know where he

is?"

Oh, who cares, Susannah thought. "He's playing with his horse."

"The new one? Good. Maybe he'll stay quiet for a while."

Hah, Susannah thought. Bet he won't.

Suddenly her mother put her hand on her belly. "_Woo._"

"What?" Susannah said.

"The baby kicked!" Her mother beckoned. "Come up next to me." Susannah

moved up to sit beside her mother. "Feel."

Susannah stretched out her hand. Her mother took it and guided it to a

place on her belly. Susannah felt a sharp quiver against her palm.

"Feel that?"

"Uh huh." Susannah swallowed. "Does it hurt?"

"Nope."

"What does it feel like?"

Her mother laughed. "It feels like a burp."

"Oh." Suddenly Susannah felt it again. Like a baby chicken, she thought,

pecking at a shell. That made her feel strange. Jerking her hand away, she

rubbed it on her knee.

Her mother touched her cheek softly. "Hey, Susie-pooh," she said. "You

know, there's a live person in there. Toes and ears and a heart and everything,

almost ready to come out."

"I know that," Susannah said, annoyed. She had seen pictures and knew

what babies looked like before they were born.

"Which would you prefer," her mother said, "a boy or a girl?"

I don't want it at all, Susannah thought. But she couldn't say that.

Babies were babies: they cried and were wet all the time. There was a

baby on the street already: Juanito, Danielle's brother. She wondered if a

little sister would be as much hassle as a brother. "I don't care."

"Mmm," said her mother. She stretched her arms above her head. "Are we

out of milk?"

Susannah tried to picture the inside of the refrigerator as she had seen

it last. "I don't remember."

"Would you look?"

"Okay." She went in. The house seemed very dark. The kitchen tile was

cool on her bare feet. She opened the refrigerator.

There were usually two big gallon containers of milk on the middle shelf.

There was one there now. She reached in and took it out. It was very light.

"Merow," said a voice near the ground. Something warm and soft and furry

brushed her left leg.

"Hello, Mr. D," she said.

The big square orange cat butted his head on her knee. "Mowr," he said.

"I know what you want." Susannah took his water bowl from its place and

put it on the kitchen table. Then she poured the rest of the milk -- it was

only a tiny bit -- into the bowl. "Come on," she whispered.

Mr. D jumped to the table top. Purring, he folded himself up beside the

bowl and drank. Susannah put the empty container in the pantry and went out.

"There was a little left," she said. "I gave it to Mr. D."

"Dad can get more tomorrow. But we'll need some tonight. Would you go to

the store and get a quart?" Mother dug into her pocket and brought out a dollar.

"Bring me the change."

"All right," Susannah said. Putting the dollar into her own pocket, she

started down the steps.

"Put something on your feet!"

Her thongs were in the front hall. Wriggling her toes into them, Susannah

went down the steps. Her mother waved from the top.

* * * *

Susannah loved her street. It was named Allan Street and it was only one block

long. There were lots of streets like it in San Francisco. Her father -- he

was a city bus driver, and knew all about the streets -- had showed her on the

city map: there was Carl Street and Paul Street and Jessie Street and Edna

Street. There was no street named Susannah. But there was no street named Niall,

either!

Allan Street's tall wooden houses had curly decorations and designs all

over them. Some of the houses were painted neat colors: blue and bright yellow

and gold. Some even had stained glass windows! At the bottom of the street sat a

little store, a park, and a streetcar line beside the park. Susannah loved to

watch the red and yellow streetcar stop at the bottom of the hill before the

tunnel. It would sit humming as people got off and on, and then it would close

its doors -- thunk, thunk! -- and come rattling and shaking up the slope. At

night she would hear it between dreams, like the soft snore of the cat, and it

made her feel good.

At the entrance to the store Susannah stopped, hoping to see a streetcar

heading for the tunnel, but none appeared. She went into the store. The cooler

was in the back. She took a quart of milk from it and brought it to Al at the

counter.

"How ya doing?" said Al, punching the buttons on his machine.

"All right," Susannah said, giving him her dollar. She watched him count

out coins. She had heard Celie say that Al was an Arab and it made her curious

-- when he got home, did he take off his shirt and put on a headdress and a

long white robe?

"Need a bag?" he asked. He always asked Mother that, and she always

answered, "Nope. Save a tree."

Susannah shook her head. Al leaned over the counter to give her the

change. As she stuck it in her pocket she wished that she could spend it to buy

beef jerky. She loved the salty taste, and it was neat to tear at the tough flat

strip with her teeth and pretend to be an Indian or a pioneer.

As she left the store, the label on a bottle caught her eye. A white

horse. It made her think of Niall. Stupid brat. She kicked at a tuft of grass.

"Susannah!"

Susannah looked up. "Hi!" she said. And grinned.

"Hi," said Danielle.

Susannah and Danielle were best friends. Everyone knew it: the kids at

school, Al, Mr. Gonzalez, even Niall. Danielle lived in the grey house across

the corner from the store. Her house was plainer than Susannah's house, which

was painted red and brown, but it had three stained glass windows.

"You going to the store?" Susannah asked.

Danielle shook her head. "Saw you from the window. Came to find you. My

mom's at your house."

"Okay." They walked to Susannah's house. Celie sat on the porch beside

Susannah's mother. She held Juanito on her lap.

"Hi, Sukie," Celie said.

"Hi," Susannah said. Danielle's mother made her feel shy, because she was

beautiful. She was brown, and her hair was in tight shiny black curls all over

her head. Danielle had hair like that too. Susannah's hair was brown and

stringy. Sometimes she was jealous of Danielle's sleek curls. But not often,

because it made her stomach ache to feel bad about her best friend.

Susannah climbed the steps and handed her mother the change. "Thank you,

honey," her mother said. "Would you put the milk in the refrigerator, please?"

She said to Celie, "The doctor told me last week -- "

Danielle leaped up the steps past the two women. "Come on," she said over

her shoulder.

In the kitchen, Susannah scowled. "All they ever talk about is babies!"

"My mom's just had a baby and yours is having one," Danielle said. "They

don't talk about them when they aren't having them."

Opening the refrigerator, Susannah put the milk on the shelf. "That's

true." But I'm sick of babies! she thought. First there was Niall, and now

there'll be a new one.

They walked to the bedroom. "What's the baby's name gonna be?" Danielle

asked.

"I don't know. How about Leia?" Danielle really liked Princess Leia. She

had seen _Star Wars_ six times. That was almost as many times as Niall had seen

_The Black Stallion._

"Naw. How about Luke Skywalker?"

"What if it's a girl? You can't name a girl Luke."

"Lulu," said Danielle. "Lulu Skywalker."

That was lame. They both laughed.

Outside the bedroom door, Susannah put a hand up. "Wait." She pushed the

door slowly. Niall wasn't there. "It's okay -- " she started to say, and

stopped.

A pile of her favorite books -- _her_ books! -- lay on the floor, all

jumbled and open.

"Niall!" Susannah spun. But of course he was gone, probably giggling to

himself under Mother and Daddy's big bed. "That brat!" Susannah knelt. Gently

she closed each book. Then she carried them to the bookshelf and put each in its

proper place. "I'd like to -- to -- " She couldn't think of anything she could

do that would be horrible enough. She couldn't even go find him and scream at

him, because she had vowed not to.

"Hey," said Danielle. "What're you doing tonight?"

Susannah shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'll paint."

Danielle grew serious. "Could I see the pictures when you finish?"

Susannah liked showing Danielle her pictures. She never said stupid stuff

like "Why is the sky purple?" and she always knew what the picture was a picture

of, even if it didn't come out.

"I'll try to bring them over," Susannah promised. She smiled, thinking of

the little cakes of paint, like eggs, inside the new paint box.

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*Chapter Two*

But the pictures wouldn't come, even with the new paint box open on the

living room floor beside her, its colors glowing.

"Make a picture of the rainbow," Mother said, looking at the blank paper

over Susannah's shoulder.

Susannah shook her head. Her mother loved rainbows. But it was silly to

paint a rainbow; they were always the same, in the same colors.

Wriggling a little, she stared at the paper. Dinner was over, but the

house still smelled wonderful; it smelled of tomato and ground beef and onions

and the spices that Mother had put in the spaghetti sauce. But even the good

smells and the warmth in her stomach -- two things that usually made Susannah

feel as if she could do anything -- were not helping her paint.

The TV blared gunfire from her parents' bedroom. Niall was watching some

stupid show. Susannah scowled. She wanted to stomp down the hall and turn it

off. It was distracting.

"Would you be more comfortable at the kitchen table?" Mother said. She

knew something was wrong and was trying to help.

"No." Susannah wriggled closer to the paper, careful not to jog the water

glass with her elbow. Niall had already knocked it over -- accidentally on

purpose -- on his way to the TV.

She wanted to draw a picture of the silver horse. It was hard to draw

from memory.

"You could draw Mr. D. Or Daddy's bus," her mother said.

Susannah wanted to scream. Leave me alone! She gripped her paintbrush

hard. Shapes and colors squirmed inside her head. She saw the silver horse

alive, not a toy, trotting through the city streets in the moonlight. Around him

the city's skyscrapers made a big steel fence.

"Damn," she said very softly. She wasn't supposed to say that word. She

dipped the paintbrush in the silver paint. I can draw the silver horse, she

thought, I _can!_

But the paint dripped from the brush, speckling the paper. Susannah sat

up and crumpled the paper into a ball. Her stomach had started to ache.

"Nooo!" Niall screamed from the bedroom. Mother had turned the TV off.

She wanted him to go to bed. He didn't want to go; he never wanted to go to

sleep no matter how tired he was. He came into the living room, yellow hair

flying. He was wearing his blue pajamas with the horses on them.

"I want to stay up and see Daddy!" he yelled.

"No," Mother said. "He's driving late shift tonight."

"But I want to!"

"You know," Mother said, "instead of arguing with me, you should be

thinking about your horse."

"Why?" Niall said suspiciously.

"Have you given it a name yet?"

"No."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because you have to give it the right name," Mother said. "If you give

your toys the wrong name, they won't stay with you. They'll run away."

"Where?" Niall asked.

"To the Land of Runaway Toys," Mother said solemnly.

"Where is that?" Niall asked. "Is it near Dreamland?"

Dreamland was a place that Mother had told Susannah and Niall about. It

was a magic place, a part of Storyland. Storyland, Mother said, was where all

the stories ever told in the whole world came true. Susannah knew it was a made-

up place but she enjoyed thinking about it anyway. Sometimes she pretended it

was real.

Someday, she thought, I'll draw a map of those places. Dreamland.

Storyland. She would save a little corner of Storyland for the Land of Runaway

Toys. She had seen such maps in books. Her favorites were the ones that left

blank spaces in the oceans or the woods, and labelled them "Monsters," or "Here

Be Tygers."

A picture slithered into her head. She saw the silver horse flying in the

air. The ground beneath him was all wrinkly and squeezed together, like on some

maps.

That's ridiculous, she thought. The silver horse can't fly. He has no

wings!

But the picture was there. And it was a much better picture than anything

she could draw. Susannah's stomach hurt so much, it felt as if she'd eaten rocks

for dinner.

"Don't get discouraged," Mother said from the doorway. "It'll come."

No it won't, Susannah thought rebelliously. Nothing could come here. It's

too noisy. People won't even let you alone to think!

She stood up. "Can I go out?"

"You want to go to Danielle's? Okay. But be back by nine o'clock."

"There's no school tomorrow," Susannah protested.

"Never mind. Just be here by nine."

"Okay." Susannah scooped her book and paint box from the floor. Going to

the kitchen, she put the book and box on the table, knowing that her mother

would put them in the bedroom. Her jacket was in the hall closet. She put it on.

It was blue, with a rainbow on the back. Mother had bought it for her.

From the top step of her house she could see the entire street. At one

end the red stop sign glowed beneath a streetlight. At the other, the red neon

sign outside of Al's market blinked off and on. The stars were bright as dimes.

The great white face of the full moon stared over the roofs of the houses across

the street.

Susannah walked down the steps to the sidewalk. The houses looked smug,

as if they were keeping secrets from the peering moon.

The moon seemed to watch her all the way to the end of the block.

She went up the steps to Danny's house and knocked. Celie opened the

door. She was wearing a neat shirt; it was purple, and glittery. "Hi, Sukie.

Danielle's in her room."

"Thank you." Susannah went to Danielle's bedroom. It was a smaller room

than Susannah and Niall's room, but it was all Danielle's. Juanito slept in

Celie's bedroom, in a crib.

Danny was sitting on her bed, staring down at a huge book. "Boo,"

Susannah said.

Danielle looked up. Her wide grin flashed. "Hi. Did you bring any

pictures?"

Susannah scowled. "I couldn't make any tonight."

Danielle eyed her a moment, and then moved over to make room for her on

the bed. "C'mere." She patted the bed. Susannah climbed up beside her.

Danny leaned across the bulk of the book to hug her. "Never mind," she

said. Her breath was warm on Susannah's ear. "Never mind. You will."

Her arms were wiry and strong. Susannah felt the aching knot in her

stomach begin to loosen. "What're you looking at?" she said.

Danielle thumped the book. "This. See this?" _This_ was a photograph of a

mountain with snow on top. The mountain looked very high, and very cold. "Its

name is Mount Rainier. It's in Washington. I'm going to climb it."

Danielle loved mountains the way Niall loved horses. She had pictures of

them all over her wall and even in the bathroom so she could look at them when

she brushed her teeth. She wanted to be a fire ranger and live on top of one.

"_What's_ it called?"

"Rainier."

"What's that mean?"

"I don't know. Maybe it rains a lot there."

Susannah nodded. That made sense. She leaned against the wall. Danny's

room was warm and it smelled like Danny. "I was trying to draw a picture of

Niall's horse," she explained. "But it was really hard."

"Harder than the cat?"

"Oh yeah!" Susannah said. "Much harder."

"It is a neat horse," Danny agreed. "Mom was gonna paint it gold. But I

think silver turned out better, don't you?"

Susannah tried to picture the horse painted gold. "Ugh. Gold would look

too plastic." She recalled her vision of the silver horse flying over a map.

There was a winged horse in a story -- the same story that had the lady whose

hair was snakes. Susannah tried to remember the horse's name, and couldn't.

"What if you had to give the horse a name?" she asked. "What would you

call it?"

Danny frowned. "Name it? Why name it? It's a toy."

"My mother told Niall about a place toys run to if you don't give them

the right name."

Danielle was frequently scornful of Bonnie's stories, but this time her

dark face grew thoughtful. "Toys do disappear. Remember my old wooden train?"

Susannah nodded. It had been made of dust-colored blocks with painted wheels. "I

wanted it one day and I couldn't find it. I never gave it a name; it was only a

train. You think it ran away?"

Susannah spread her hands. "It's just a story."

"Huh." Danny opened the book. "You like weird names? There's a neat one

here." She lugged the book over to Susannah's lap and leafed through it. "There!

This is the tallest mountain in the world. It has two names: Mount Everest and

Cho-mo-lung-ma. That's its real name. It means Goddess Mother of the World.

Isn't that boss?"

Susannah gazed at the pictures of Chomolungma. She wondered why the sky

around the snow-capped peak looked black. Maybe the pictures had been taken at

night. How tall was the tallest mountain in the world? Could you stand on top of

it? If you stood on top of it, would you see San Francisco?

"Where'd you get the book?"

"From my Aunt Marie," Danielle said. Danny's aunt worked downtown at the

big library. She knew about interesting books before anyone else did. "The

library was selling it, because it's old and gross." She closed the book. Its

front cover was scratched.

"So what?" Susannah said. "The pages aren't torn."

They started to look at the pictures, but got stuck in the middle of the

book and never made it to the end. Danielle read bits of it aloud. She read

about Sherpas. Sherpas lived in the mountains and climbed up and down them all

the time. "If I can't be a ranger," Danny said, "I'll be a Sherpa."

"I think it's like being an American or a Californian," Susannah said.

"You have to be born there."

"No," Danny said, "I looked it up in the encyclopedia. There's no place

named Sherp."

Finally Celie stuck her head around the door. "Sukie, what time you

supposed to be home?"

"Nine o'clock."

"It's nine-fifteen."

"Whoops!" Susannah leaped off the bed. Grabbing her jacket from the floor

where she had dumped it, she whirled to hug Danielle. "Bye! See you tomorrow."

She raced up the street to her house. The moon, high overhead, was bright

as the street lamps. Wisps of fog were blowing from the west.

She pounded up the stairs. Her mother was waiting for her. "I was just

going to call," she murmured, lifting the jacket from Susannah's shoulders.

Her bed was waiting. The covers were turned back. Niall was asleep

already, his hair spread like gold threads over the pillow. He hugged his old

stuffed horse Windy in his arms.

The new horse stood on the lid of the toy chest. Beside it, was Mr. D.

His eyes were huge.

"What have you been saying to each other?" Susannah said, peeling off her

pants.

Mr. D stretched, poking his rump high in the air. Susannah went to him

and stroked him. The silver horse seemed to watch her. Impulsively, Susannah

reached out and touched its back. Under the texture of the paint, the wood was

smooth and warm.

As soon as she got into bed, Mr. D jumped on to the foot of the bed and

curled into a ball. His eyes made slits. D is for diamond, Susannah thought. But

all cats have diamond eyes.

Mother came in. Bending, she tucked the covers around Susannah's

shoulders. She clicked the light off. "Sleep time. Go to Dreamland, Susie-pooh."

Susannah yawned, and stretched her toes against the cat. Near the floor

the night-light glowed. It was shaped like a smiling pumpkin.

"Mother?"

"Mmm?"

Susannah turned her head so that she could see her mother's face. "What

will you and Daddy name the new baby?"

Her mother smiled. "If it's a boy, David. If it's a girl, Corinna."

"Corinna's a pretty name."

"No prettier than Susannah."

"No," Susannah agreed. She was feeling sleepy. Mr. D at her feet was

purring and purring, vibrating into her toes and up her legs and along her arms

and all the way to her eyelids. "If you gave the baby the wrong name, would it

run away like the toys?"

"No," her mother said. "People don't run away for those reasons."

"Why do they?"

"Run away? Because they're unhappy where they are."

"Oh," Susannah said. She yawned. "It might be fun to visit."

"The Land of Runaway Toys? Go to sleep, and maybe you'll dream about it."

She kissed Susannah's cheek. "Remember, Susie-only-pooh, it's just a story."

Stories are real, too, Susannah thought, only they happen in your head. A

streetcar rumbled toward the park. I'll stay awake until the next one, she

decided. Just until the next streetcar goes by...

* * * *

A sparkle woke her.

Susannah stared at the ceiling. She blinked. The room was bright. Turning

from her stomach on to her side, she saw why: the shade over the window had

rolled up. Moonlight poured through the window.

Susannah rubbed her eyes, feeling with her toes for the comfortable bulk

of Mr. D at the foot of the bed. He wasn't there. She lifted on her elbows to

look at the door. It was open, and Niall's bed was empty. The moonlight was so

intense it made her eyes sting. Susannah put her arm over her face. Niall must

have gone to the bathroom, she thought.

Suddenly she heard him whispering. "Horse, wait for me."

A cold finger tickled Susannah's spine. Shuddering, she sat upright. The

room was so bright she could barely see the face of the night light.

"Horse, wait!"

Susannah gazed at the squat shape of the toy chest. The silver horse was

not where it should be, poised and still in the light. What was Niall doing? She

pictured him in his blue pajamas with the horses on them, playing some private

moonstruck game up and down the hallway. Stupid brat. She pushed the covers

aside. The floor was cold. She yawned. Perhaps she could coax Niall back to bed

before he woke Daddy.

She could let him wake Daddy, and get smacked.

Then she heard, from the other end of the house, a beat of sound. It was

the front door closing.

Susannah almost wailed aloud. Then she scrambled for her shirt and jeans

and socks and tennis shoes. _I'll_ smack him, she thought with fervor and fury.

He's taken that horse and gone to play in the park!

She wondered as she tied her shoelaces if she should wake her father. She

wasn't supposed to go to the park either, after dark. But it was so bright,

almost like daylight, and her legs were longer than his ... She would catch him

before he got there. Holding her breath, Susannah crept down the hall past her

parents' bedroom. The front door was ajar. Quietly she pushed the button to

unlock the door so that she and Niall could get back in. Then, heart beating

hard, she left the house.

The moon was so bright that the lamp posts and telephone poles all had

double shadows. The wind snapped at her with foggy teeth. Should have brought my

jacket, she thought, hugging her shirt to her sides. Stubborn and shivering she

ran, peering ahead for a yellow-haired boy wearing blue pajamas and carrying a

glitter-flecked horse.

He was too far away; she could not see him. He had gotten away from her.

Fists clenched, she stopped at the street to look both ways. The moon flung her

shadow ahead of her as she ran across the silver streetcar rails to the park.

The grass was wet; Susannah felt it on her ankles through her socks.

"Niall!" she called. Her voice seemed lost. The park, not large in the daytime,

seemed to stretch for miles. Deep shadows crouched beneath the trees.

"Niall!" she shouted. "Niall, come here, it's me. It's Susannah!"

From somewhere, like an echo, her name came back to her. "Susannah!"

She turned in a circle. The fog was so thick that she could not see her

own house. Suddenly she saw Niall. He stood in the middle of the park. Behind

him, like a dream come to life, was the silver horse, gleaming in the moonlight

and _growing_ as it glowed. Shivering, Susannah rubbed her eyes. The horse was

still there. It cantered across the grass in a great circle around Niall. Its

hooves, Susannah saw with wonder, were inches from the ground.

"Horse!" called Niall. He flung his arms up.

"Niall!" Susannah yelled. She ran toward him.

"Susannah!" someone called.

The horse neighed. It was a strong, clear, beautiful sound. It bent its

head to let Niall clasp its mane. He scrambled to its back. He looked very small

in the swirling fog. Susannah stood openmouthed.

This is a dream, she thought desperately. She pinched herself hard on one

arm.

Go back, said a voice in her head, go back, go home, wake your parents.

"Niall!" she called. He didn't look at her. But the horse looked straight at

her. Its eyes were red, like rubies. It neighed again, and began to climb. As if

it were on solid ground, it stepped into the creeping fog, and the fog bore it

up. Higher and higher it pranced, until it was above the street lights. The moon

blazed through the fog like a beacon.

A woman's voice called sweetly through the darkness. "Come," she called.

Her voice was clear and compelling. The horse reared, and leaped at the glowing

moon. Susannah saw it silhouetted against the light. Niall was a small lump on

its back.

Then it was gone.

The fog writhed over the shadowy grass. The moon sailed serenely through

the sky. Susannah, heart pounding in her chest, ran over the wet grass to where

the horse had been.

As she reached the spot, the world turned upside down. The fog enveloped

her. Her feet left the ground. Her stomach lurched as she saw below her the fog,

the park, the street, her house, small, and getting smaller.

The moon filled her vision. A flash of cold fire broke over her head like

a wave, and she was falling -- falling -- it seemed a long way down.

--------

*Chapter Three*

Susannah woke.

Her head felt fuzzy. There was a lovely smell in the air, a smell like

flowers and honey and music. Mr. D was purring beside her. Okay, cat, she

thought, time to get up now.

She stretched and rolled over. Something hard and unexpected poked her in

the back. "Ow!" she said indignantly. Then she really woke, and opened her eyes.

Above her was the sky, patched with pieces of green.

She sat up. Grass prickled on her palms. She remembered: she had chased

Niall into the park. The silver horse had grown big and jumped into the moon.

And then -- and then she had fallen somewhere. Here. Here was gray: a pearly

clear gray, not a foggy San Francisco gray. She lay under the branches of a

tree. Mr. D, sun-colored, sat at her feet washing his ears, imperturbable as

only a cat can be about anything.

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======================TheSilverHorsebyElizabethA.Lynn======================Copyright(c)1984byElizabethA.Lynne-readswww.ereads.comFantasy---------------------------------NOTICE:Thisworkiscopyrighted.Itislicensedonlyforusebytheoriginalpurchaser.Duplicationordistributionofthisworkbyemail,floppydisk,n...

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Lynn, Elizabeth - The Silver Horse

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