Full credits to both image and edits on this one to me. I took the picture. Barely counts as a manip, kept the same background, mostly just made him sparkly XD
The piece is meant to go with a short story about a Kelpie I wrote! Short story is below. Not sure if it fits into an art gallery but the two go hand in hand so thought I'd add it.
You wouldn’t think anything of it, would you? Perhaps you’d find it odd. A lone horse on the beach. No rider. Reins hung slack from the neck, and not a saddle to be seen. He’s quite a handsome fellow, white socks riding up his knees, a white washed wave splashing across his face. Brown mellow eyes. With a spark. Maybe not mellow? His shimmering hide is wet, as if he had been in the ocean. The chestnut orange is darkened by the water. He looks content enough, grazing on the spit. Flicking ears swiveling to catch a gull’s cry. Flared nostrils inhaling the scent of the ocean. He is home here.
You’re not.
There’s no need to question him. He is not lost. There is no little girl missing his presence. He does not mind the visits though. Would you care for a ride? Grass brushes against your feet as you draw closer. There’s no reason to fear him. He lifts his head, watching you near. Big brown eyes. He trusts you. Do you trust him?
Fingers tracing lines across his neck, you can feel his tangled mane. Unkempt, wild. His breath is hot against your skin. Isn’t he a sweet fellow? Chin hairs tickling your hands as he searches for a treat.
Beside him, you feel safer. He lowers his head again, idly nibbling at the grass. He’s offering you to jump on. He can take you for a spin. Wouldn’t you like to? His shoulder quivers under your hand as you reach for the reins.
All aboard.
He does not buck or bite. He does not rear up. He does not want to scare you. Only a gentle ride. Only the soft walk along the grassy spit. Wind whips your hair, bites at you. It is cold and fierce, strong off the ocean. He keeps you warm.
Stone pebbles roll under his hooves. You’re on the beach. It’s beautiful. He will take care of you.
You’re closer to the water, drawing ever further from the grassy bank. It’s okay, he only wants to show you his home. What a wonderful seaside place. Crabs scuttle between rocks and another seagull screeches. The same gull?
Splash.
He loves water. It’s so much fun to play in. There’s nothing to worry about. He only wishes to feel the waves lap at his legs. You don’t mind. Anyone would like to feel the water against their feet. One step deeper. At his knees. You could almost touch the sea yourself.
He looks back at you, reassuring you. Soft brown eyes. Yet another step into the water. He’s unconcerned. He loves to swim. You can feel the sea pulling at your legs, splashing against his side. He continues his journey. Straight out now, headed for the wide ocean before him. Deeper and deeper.
Worry ebbs in as his head ducks below the surface. Is he okay? Was he always that colour? A darkened mane twists around your hands. It's tangled. Wild. Even the reins seem to be holding onto you more than you hold onto them.
He’s underwater. Your worry grows. Do you trust him? It’s too late to say no. You catch a glimpse of his head. Orange eyes. Bright fiery orange.
You wouldn’t question the kelpie would you? As he takes you down to drown? No one would think anything of it as the ripples fade out. As the last trace of horse and rider disappear.
No one notices that the old chestnut rises from the water, reins around his neck and not a saddle to be seen. This is his home. And anyone is welcome to visit
Morning Frost, but Warming
