a commission for Halloween, beautifully and atmospherically realised by the super-friendly and highly-talented artist  geaidu


Halloween is hardly celebrated in my region. For a few years it looked as if the trend of children going from house to house in costume would become established here, but it was never really possible to win over the older generation to put out sweets for this event, which is why it remained more of a private celebration.
Nevertheless, this night before All Saints' Day is a great time to indulge in ghost stories in the dark and foggy night... and to see one or two pumpkin heads flickering in the neighbourhood by candlelight

I'm very happy that geaidu was also able to finish this great picture just in time for this event - so have a happy Halloween, visitors <3

~~(~~~O~~~)~~

An eerie echo drifts through fields long unseen,
Restless in its search for what might have been...

~

Soft and mysteriously, the pale light of the full moon pours over the wide, deserted field...

Dense fog drifts over their ancient soil, which has long since carried long forgotten settlers and armies,
crawling and threatening to absorb everything that dares to breathe in secrecy.

In this sinister twilight, in which reality and illusion intertwine, it only is the eerie whisper of the wind that breaks the oppressive silence.
A distant voices from long ago, wafting over the meadows... In search of something lost.

~

On nights like these, lit only by candles and flames, an old tale is being told: A grim warning of a pitch-black horse that arises from the shadows,
just at the darkest hour before All Saint’s Day - and whose neighing echoes ghostly across the deserted fields, eternally trapped in restless search.

None of its hooves touch the ground, no trail remains in the dewy grass. It seems as if this creature is carried by the wind, weightless and shadowy.

It is said to hide its true form in the cloak of shadows. Those who only catch a glimpse are said to be lucky,
because usually the steed glides away like a mirage... fleeting and elusive, it then merges with the darkness again.

But woe betide anyone who sees it up close and is captured by its gaze. Then, it slowly emerges from the gloomy mists and reveals its true form:
the pale skeleton of a battered steed. White bones, glowing in an unholy light, leaving its equine shell as a vague silhouette.
Meanwhile, the stallion’s mane and tail seem to be blowing in a strange way, as if they’re carried by unnatural winds.

The empty and unfathomable gaze of the horse’s skull is said to be deep and unavoidable, as if the darkness itself were trapped in it.
Anyone caught in it will henceforth bear an inescapable fate - being condemned to hear the clammy clacking of hoof steps behind him night after night, relentlessly chasing.
When they finally catch up, it is said, the ghostly horse rises and takes the unfortunate soul with it, on its back, over to the realm of the dead...

~

However, it should be noted that not everyone sees cruelty and hopelessness in this tale.
It is whispered among the women that the ghostly horse is not hunting, but searching.
That it returns on this cold night to find its lost rider in the field, here, where he once fell in a long-forgotten battle.

Those who prove themselves worthy of the stallion and bravely face him with an open heart are not seen as victims, but as companions in the eternal silence of the night.
And so, the black horse only rides through the haze with those who are prepared to hear its silent call - and to join it on the eternal path.
Not as lost spirits, but as companions. Who’ll help it to find what seems to have been lost forever.

(Story by Steppenfire & Moonlight)

~~(~~~O~~~)~~

Mood: Lucas Quinn - Something’s Not Right