This Kindred Tornado
I was taught to run
Green air.
A tornado is coming.
I was told to run. But the water is wild, and the false rapids roil in the sickly light. My haunches are weakened to the rocks.
I think my rider is dead. We were fired on the instant we reached the water. I, a sure river crosser, faltered in the green, green light. He is folded and floppy, awkward, and I am weak on the rocks. He is strapped to the seat that is strapped beneath my belly.
This is a moment I have never known to dread. It is dread that fills me now.
A war. That’s what the men say. They say it too often, and the word hurts my head. War. Does the river know we fight a war beside it? I see the enemies coming. They shoot the river.
I think the river knows.
Who will strike me?
Everything is coming closer. I look to the horizon. A once bright sun has become green and I think it is dying. Death has arrived with the tornado. I can see it forming in the spiral sky, in the clouds that sneer from above, as my enemies sneer, atop their steeds who shy from the water’s opposite bank.
Where is the tornado? We are its labor pangs. I think I feel the pain of something else coming, a pain like that which took my rider and made him floppy upon my back.
Their choice is to cross the river, and I stand here, weakened to the rocks. I am only looking. I see the sky and I see my enemy and I see the river rapids. I see my brothers coming to me. My choice is war. My choice is death. My only choices.
The blood of my rider runs across my back, as I should be running away from the river, and trails down my back legs, tangling in my tail, and making my hooves glisten in the green, sickly light. I do not know if I can wash away my burden. I do not know if I want to.
The river is cold. There is an eddy before me, deep, and softly rotating the echoes of the river rapids. If I leave now, my brothers will cheer and follow. My enemy would try to follow. But their steeds are not as sure in the water, and this is a truth the water has told me. I am standing and looking. I can feel my mind working like the eddy, gently lapping a plan against the shore.
The swirling sky is green and sickly, and a tornado can sting. The air moves itself and it moves the sand of the earth against my skin, into my eyes. The tornado can move the river, steal its flow to bring it up to its lips, as I have moved to meet the river with my own.
I can find a kindred spirit in this storm.
My enemies are upon me and my brothers. They have their own sting and I stand looking, haunches weakened to the rocks. Is this what death does? I can feel a pain coming.
I can see an eye and I can hear a brush stroke against stretched canvas. I can see the green light falling across this moment. I see myself, half collapsed beside the water. I think this is what death does.
The war. The war. The war.
War.
War.
War.
My head pounds to this drum and the eddy of my mind begins to take on speed. The enemy’s stings send the dust of the earth to my shoes, and I take heed of the green light. My rider is dead. My enemies race for the strike and I know what death will do to me.
I think I have a friend in the sky this night, and a friend in the river rapids, and a friend in the brothers who will follow me into the blur of dark.
To run beneath a green, sickly sun, as it sets, to feel the cascading nightfall backdrop our flight, I can feel a pain coming.
Will I be weakened on the rocks, evermore?
Never have I hoped for dread in the face of pain. It is hope that fills me now.
My burden will spur me on.
About the Creator
Mackenzie Davis
“When you are describing a shape, or sound, or tint, don’t state the matter plainly, but put it in a hint. And learn to look at all things with a sort of mental squint.” Lewis Carroll
Find me elsewhere.
Copyright Mackenzie Davis.
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Comments (26)
Congratulations, Mackenzie! This is a very powerful story.
Congratulations! This certainly captures how poor horses might feel, caught up in the turmoil of war .
I'm sorry I didn't see this sooner. I, like others here, hate seeing the horses injured, stabbed, shot, raced down cliffs, run to death, and all the other horrid things the movies do. I grew up in Tornado Alley, and it is definitely crazy skies and weird feelings in the air. I am believing this war horse outran the enemies and the swirling tornado and ate in a calm green field under sunny skies once he loosed that saddle and dead rider!
Congratulations twice!!!! So glad you told the story of war from an unsung hero's voice
🎉🥳🎉 THE RESULTS ARE IN! 🎉🥳🎉 The results for "Inside the Animal's Mind [an unofficial challenge] have been posted! You can view them here! https://vocal.media/writers/results-inside-the-animal-s-mind-an-unofficial-challenge
Incredible, Mackenzie... The personification of nature, the repetition, the authorship... Absolutely beautiful. The poetry in the prose, astounding! It is moving, panicking, insane. Thank you so much for entering my challenge! This was an absolute pleasure to read.
And for some reason I did not read this when it was first released!? Beautiful story, Mackenzie! Truly you have done something remarkable here! I love the panicked, horsey thoughts you were able to convey! The fact that the concept of war hurts the POV's head, that they wonder if the river knows there is a war, wow, wow, and wow again! This perfectly matched the cover photo and is totally deserving of the recognition it received if not a good deal more!
Wow, such a unique painting, and an equally unique composition to boot. I really like war used as a refrain. One of the beauties of working in poetry is it helps make our prose more lyrical, and I really felt that here. Of course, it also helped that "Tornado of Souls" by Megadeth came on while I was reading this. A transcendent experience, indeed.
Silly, but it's always been a pet peeve of mine when horses die in war movies. I adore this little snippet because it really drives home how devastating it is that innocent creatures get pulled into the brutality that humans create. Such a lovely and important take on the challenge. Congratulations on runner-up!
I love that you told this from the horse's perspective. Incredible writing. Congrats.
Stunning work my friend detail, thoughts, images, everything about this story reaches out and grabs attention, bravo 😊
Great story from the horse's perspective and really incorporated so much of the image. Beautifully done. 👏Pernoste
Really wonderful work here. Better read late than never, I say. Great story.
I don’t know if you participated in the Tall Tail challenge, but this is my favorite piece of writing from an animal’s perspective I have read. I believed every word of it. I don’t think I’d notice this painting in a museum, because of the dark colors. It’s an interesting choice. There’s nothing that terrifies me more than natural disasters. The thought of war happening during a natural disaster is hellacious, and this was such a gripping read. You took a painting I would ignore and made my heart race by putting me inside it. Well done, and congrats. 💚
Wow, Mackenzie!! This one was amazing!! I had chills from the very beginning from your descriptions and the perspective you took here worked just perfectly! 🤯🤯. Huge congratulations!!!
I didn't read this until now. Apologies about that! But, this was definitely deserving of a place. Congratulations, Mackenzie on such a fine and gripping piece! Loved ever tense and emotive line and word!
YAYYY, congratulations Mackenzie!!!
I read this piece a couple of weeks ago. Very happy to see it place.
Great story-telling. Congrats on placing in the challenge
Congratulations on runner up!!!❤️❤️💕
Awesome story! Congratulations, Mackenzie:)
When I hear the sirens here in Texas, I wait for green air....eerie! Great read!
P.S. The horse perspective is also incredible!
Ah-h-h... evocative, insightful, powerful. Many years ago, I experienced my first green air in Oklahoma. I was fascinated, having never been near a tornado before. Since I was naive, I am sure if I had owned a camera at the time, I would have taken pictures. I am astounded that you KNOW green air. Great work!
I also enjoyed reading it from the horse’s perspective.