"A summer's night, fair as spring glory.
A fallen prince, hidden from sight.
A golden basket, full of fruit.
One phoenix, rising from the soot.
A sudden understanding
As the sun rose, spreading it's paints of reds and yellows and pink into the purple fluffy clouds an eerie laugh split the skies.
A golden-haired girl leaned against the fence, staring out into the field of horses, her eyes filled with longing.
"A beauty, ain't they?" A knobbly old man with dark tanned skin wearing a cowboy hat, a plaid t-shirt and boots had snuck up on the girl.
"Yes. They are a beauty, Jack." Whispered the girl in reply, her eyes still fixed on the horses.
Jack simply nodded and continued chewing on his piece of wheat.
"Wha-what are their names?" Asked the girl hesitantly.
"Ye wanna know the horses nameses, Summer?" Jack seemed surprised.
"Yes." Summer replied.
"Well...." Jack began. "You see that white one over there? Name's Snowy Run." Jack pointed to a white mare. "And that there's Sparky Edge and Honeydew Promise, they're twins." Jack said, motioning toward two chestnut-colored horses. "Then that mare over there is Dreamy Symphony. There's 'er father, Night Blizzard." He pointed toward a gray dappled mare and a darker colored but similiar stallion. "Here comes Pepper Shard and Spanish Swirl--they're almost like brothers." Another sorrel stallion and one brown-and-white skyrim.
"What about that one?" Summer asked, pointing to a blue dun standing a little way apart from the others.
"He ain't got no name. He's a mustang, that's what." Jack said bluntly.
"A mustang?" Summer gazed at the dun.
"Yup. Don't know why Mister Donaldson put'im out in th' field with the others. Bad things come up when one o' them mustangs and dumestickies touch."
"Are you sure he's a mustang?" Summer inquired.
"Sure as meh name's Jack."
"Mmm." Was all Summer said but her gaze was still on the gray horse.
Suddenly a sound faint ringing noise came to their ears.
"Dinner time." Jack said before trotting toward a cozy little white-and-blue cottage with the expression of a hungry dog that just heard the rattle of his food being poured into his bowl on his face.
By now you're probably starting to ask a lot of questions and waiting impatiently for me to start explaining and answering. Ah well. Later I'll have to tell anyway if I dodge this time, might as well spill it all out here.
Summer once had a normal life with loving rich parents and a dog named Swiftling.
One day, Summer went to the beach with her dog, two of her friends and her butler, of course. The butler was tall and thin and old and wrinkly and stiff and formal. Summer didn't like him very much but Summer never said that out loud and Summer knew that she was lucky to have a butler as kind as him who drove all the way to one of the only beaches that allowed dogs.
Anyways, Summer was playfully splashing salty ocean water at her friends, laughing at the angry expressions on their faces and gasping when they splashed back, when suddenly a small green hybrid drove up. It was recognizable, even on the beach because of its bright green looks. A weary-looking fat old woman that Summer recognized as Miss. Puddingstone, her maid, walked out, dressed all in black. That was the most startling part--Not the green car instead of the usual sleek limousine that Summer's parents had allowed Miss. Puddingstone to drive, nor the sad expression on her face for Miss. Puddingstone would cry over a dead worm on the sidewalk--it was the pure black that did it. Miss. Puddingstone had no color on her except for her teary blue eyes that were usually sparkling with happiness and laughter. Even her skin had turned a strange bland grayish tone.
"Oh, Miss. McAllard, oh!" Cried Miss. Puddingstone, calling Summer the respectful "Miss. McAllard" as all servants employeed by the McAllards were demanded to say.
"Miss. Puddingstone?" There was a hint of fear in her voice. Miss. Puddingstone never acted like this. Well, actually she did, when she saw a dead fish in the market but there was something deeper than that, something Summer couldn't explain. There was just something....Different. Especially the strange tone of her skin.
"Oh! Oooooh!!" Miss Puddingstone only continued to wail.
"Miss. Puddingstone?" The butler looked deeply worried.
"Oh, Mr. De Laugre!" Miss Puddingstone stumbled, as if she was dizzy.
"Miss. Puddingstone!" Mr. De Laugre (the butler) reached out his hands and caught Miss Puddingstone just as she was falling to the ground, her eyes rolling back.
Miss. Puddingstone had fainted.
"Mistress McAllard, you must get into the limo as soon as you can." There was alarm in Mr. De Laugre's face as he dragged Miss. Puddingstone and Summer into a sleek black limo, not waiting for any goodbyes or for Summer's friends to jump in the limo with them.
On the way back home, as Summer was nervously fiddling with her hair, Miss. Puddingstone woke up. Summer was relieved and quit her annoying fidgeting for a few seconds but for some reason Mr. De Laugre had a look of fear in his eyes.
As soon as Miss. Puddingstone had woken up, she resumed her wailing. "Oh, Miss. McAllard! Miss. McAllard! Horrible--HORRIBLE!! Miss. McAllard, oh!"
"Calm down, Miss. Puddingstone. You're safe now." Summer soothed as her relieved expression melted back into one of fear and nervousness.
"Oh! Dead! Dead! Their dead!" Miss Puddingstone wailed, burying her face into the seat of the limo, crying and beating her fist against the leather of the seat. Usually if someone ruined the leather with tears, Mr De Laugre would immediatly snap at them to get out or to quit their wimpy sniveling but instead Mr De Laugres face became lined with even greater worry.
"Wh-who's dead, M-miss Puddingstone?" Summer dreaded the answer and could hardly make herself drag the words out as a stone fell into Summer's stomache.
"Ooooh!!! A-a f-fire....B-burnt ..c-cookies....D-d-d-d-d-d-DEAD!!" Sobbing choked Miss. Puddingstone's words.
"Wh-what?" Tears filled Summer's eyes but she shook them away. No, it couldn't be. It just can't be possible. It's impossible. I just misunderstood what she's trying to say. Yes, that's it. I just misunderstood. Misinterpreted. Misinterpreted. Summer's confused and distressed mind swam around in dazed circles, murmuring silent words to comfort herself. Misinterpreted.