#42- The Great Denial – THE LEGEND OF THE GREAT HORSE trilogy

This will be a great story, Meagan thought, hearing herself tell it: ‘And then I climbed the hill and saw the camera scaffolding. No, I wasn’t really scared. Well, maybe a little, until I was sure.’ And then we will laugh…

She climbed up the face of the hill until she could peer over the top. The open hilltop had been scraped flat. Its only feature was a circular pit dug in the hill’s center.

Oh, how funny this will be.

Meagan crossed the hilltop. The pit was a shaft bored into the mound, its narrow walls defined in flickering orange light from below. She leaned closer. Another set of pegs led into the murky depths. Warm, ripe scents of decay rose from the pit.

“Hello,” she called nervously. “Is anyone down there?” Her words made a dull echo. “Hello?”

A tinkling swept over the hilltop, a musical sound that vanished with the breeze. Another round of chimes played in the gusts of wind, and Meagan caught a flash in the corner of her eye. A stream of movement emerged from a dip in the landscape. She stared in astonishment as horses and riders rose from the dip as if bubbling from dry ground.

Meagan crouched on the hilltop as the disorganized procession jogged and bobbed closer. Perhaps a hundred strong, the field of riders was a carpet of color and glinting reflections. The horses were unruly and barely contained. Hopping sideways, they battered against each other. Their riders sat atop their mounts’ croups—far back—holding twined leather straps as reins.

Those must be the movie extras, Meagan reasoned, noting their authenticity.