He had rode into Horror... on a dappled white,
grey horse. But, his environment soon changed;
he found himself in a glassy, mirror-walled room. The walls
seemed to speak to him, making up for the lack of neighing sounds & such, his stead once made....
The walls emanated,
& answered questions he had asked himself what felt like
lifetimes ago. They spoke in a strange language, strumming the chords of his intuition ...pressing the keys of his feelings; they spoke in images as they cast back responses in the form of echoes
-- reflections -- of his mutated self.
There was no time ...there,
in that crystal-clear-- box
he once found himself penned up in:
No past... No future... ...Not there.
He had rode into Horror, but now...
he walked through it. Without a horse...
but, instead ...with his own hooves... he, now, stepped.
Hunched... but not broken, he now hauled himself----
awkwardly, at first, yet finding new balance
with his -- not-so-long-ago -- received winding tail & coiled horns, which almost, now... resembled antlers;
they acted -- with some practice & getting used to -- like whiskers, or a balancing pole
...or an umbrella.
A weird combination of what looked like human, goat,
& ..something else... slowly, made it's way
along a dark stretch of thread. But, he..
had no choice, except.. to howl.. & wail....
..to continue moving forward -- through Horror -- as this---- whatever this ...he... now, was.
Gone over once, Re-posting as I made many edits doing so.