Clip Clop

In the old days, it was different. Whether you had a horse or not, and whether you liked them or not... If you heard clip-clop on the street, some inner child prompted you to go to the window. You'd look out with some small satisfaction.

Now, when you hear that clip-clop, you draw back from the window. You reach for the curtain, and then hesitate, not wanting its twitch to draw attention. You freeze in place, and your guts freeze as well.

Bad enough if you should hear it outside during the day, but at twilight, after curfew... That once-pleasant, once-whimsical sound is a harbinger of something.

Then it recedes, and the pity your noble self might have felt for the poor soul it was clipping and clopping for is washed away by selfish relief.

Not me. Not us. Not my house. Not today.

Worse still, if the sound should be clip-clop clip-

-Pause-

Tonight, I sit, listening to the hollow silence in my gut. Clinging to hope that I won't hear hoofbeats on the grimy road in the mist. Fervently praying to whoever might be listening that if I do hear that dread sound, it'll dwindle into the distance, unpunctuated by an altogether different flavour of silence.

I put my arms around the little ones, draw them close, savour the tangled curls and soft little limbs. I hug them tight enough that, maybe, nothing and no-one could prise them from my arms. Maybe.

The light fades. Their round eyes don't even cry anymore. Fear is their blood and pulse now, and the ocean they swim in every day. Such a constant companion that perhaps they'd hardly know how to live without it. Their grip on me is as tight as mine on them, and every breath a prayer.

Not tonight. Not us. Please.

No one is listening. Except us, of course, our ears primed for the drawling drumbeat. We hear it, and we still hope that we don't, that we are mistaken.

They are coming.

Terror swells, the rictus of our faces and the pinch of our grip climbs with it.

Closer.

It crescendos, clanging in the godless silence outside the window.

They are here.

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Word count (excluding note): 366

(Word count with note: 666 words!)

Submitted on 25th January

*Quick Author's Note*

Thank you for reading! Your thoughtful engagement is very much valued. Please leave a comment so I can reciprocate the read. If you enjoyed it, the best compliment you can give is to share it, or read another. Thank you especially to those who are being so supportive through this project. You are more appreciated than you know!

Pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain: This one was inspired by Rachel Deeming's haiku "I don't want a horse", but being the contrary person I am, I went in a whole other direction with it. I quite enjoy the juxtaposition of the jolliness of the onomatopoeia "clip-clop" with a sort of dread. This doesn't quite fit my own criteria for a micro, but I liked it enough to publish it anyway.

My "story every day" project: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 24 day streak. You can find all of them in my Index post, which is pinned to the top of my profile. I'll also link to it at the bottom.

If you're joining me on this "story every day" madne adventure, please leave a link to yours in the comments. Whether you're on a creative bent, like me, and writing mostly microfiction/stories, or whether you have your own, self-imposed criteria, I'd love to see what you come up with for today. I'll try to come back and edit this to link to your piece at the bottom.