Today's Mostly True Short Story: White Horses

Words and photo by F LoBuono

As usual, it was a restless night for me. I simply do not sleep well. I do slumber, but usually for relatively short periods: 4 hours here, and hour or two there. It gets me by.  And, despite the fact that I had a most fulfilling, active, LONG day in one of favorite places on the planet, Puerto Rico, this particular night proved no exception. After a few hours in the sack, the ol’ internal alarm clock kicked in.

It must have been about 2 or 3 a.m. when I finally figured it was easier to get up than continue to thrash about in a vain attempt at stealing a few more winks. Besides, my hotel room had a 3^rd floor balcony overlooking a large field surrounded by mist -shrouded hills in the distance. The night was warm and alive with the sounds of all the myriad creatures that inhabit the Puerto Rican night. It was also balmy with a gentle, ocean breeze. If I needed a spot to calm myself back to sleep, that would be it.  So, I opened the door of the balcony and stepped out into a caress of pleasant air.

I found a small table and chair and I strategically placed my butt in the seat and my feet on the table. I breathed deeply and began to soak in the atmosphere. After just a few minutes, I sensed something. I can’t say that I actually heard anything specific to pique my interest. Nor, did I see anything unusual at that particular moment. It was more of a feeling, an intuition, perhaps, that something was happening in the field across the road from my room. I rose from my chair and walked over to the edge.  I placed my elbows on the railing and gazed out over the field. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the field when, suddenly, I saw them. There must have been a dozen or so. They appeared as specters emerging from the distant darkness. I simply could not believe my eyes; a small herd of pure white horses where slowly appearing below me, lit only by the dim glow of a nearby street light.

Was I really still asleep and was this all some surreal dream?

I instinctively looked about to ground myself with my surroundings and realized that I was, indeed, awake. I continued to observe the horses as they moved ever so languidly towards the fence line that marked the boundary of the field. Eventually, as if given some unspoken command by the leader of the herd, they stopped completely and began to graze peacefully. Each animal seemed to know its place in the order of things. There were mares and a few foals. I did not sense the presence of a stallion. The energy seemed more maternal, as if they were being led by a matriarch. It was so peaceful.

It may have been ten minutes or it may have been an hour. I had no idea of the time. At that moment, it was inconsequential, as if suspended. When the herd did move, it was with an almost unearthly quality – as if they were floating instead of walking. Whatever time that did actually pass, I’ll never know. I was transfixed. Eventually, my eye lids grew heavy and it was time to return to bed. Even I need to sleep at so point. But, I made myself a promise that I would return first thing in the morning to see if I could discover where they may have actually came from.

Rising early, as is my habit, and hurried immediately over to the balcony. The small herd was gone. I dressed quickly and hurried down the stairs to the field where I had seen them the night before. I looked everywhere but saw no direct sign of them. I started looking for some evidence of their very existence. I found little. I did see some hoof prints and dung, but they were both dried out, convincing me that they could not have been left by the horses I observed the previous night. I hiked further into the field to see if, perhaps, there as some type of corral nearby. I found none. They had vanished as mysteriously as they appeared.

I continued to look for them late into the night for the five days I occupied the room. But, I never saw them again.

Perhaps, after all, it really was just a dream. . .