February’s writing prompt was Stallion. Here we showcase all the responses that were submitted.
Stallion writing prompt: It’s the year of the horse. Ride like the wind. Chase all that is coming for you. The clomp of hoof on gravel is another step further, closer, onwards.
The Ranch
I don't know how you feel about what it must be like to live trapped in a stable when you were once galloping freely with many stallions before,
that captivity has become your norm.
I don't know how you feel knowing that you can escape at any moment you want to, yet I know that the moment you kick the gate or try to gnaw through the fence that you'll be roped in and be brought back again with every attempt.
I don't know how you feel knowing that you are physically superior to your owners in every way, that you can move faster than their cars can just by using the mechanics of your body alone.
I don't know how you feel about knowing that you can't have kids of your own,
that your purpose was removed without your consent,
that you have no say in how you want to be treated simply because someone else said
that you belong to them, that you must be owned,
Which is why I know that no matter how many times I brush your hair or ride with
you around this field, that this ranch will never feel like your home.
by Liam Mick (@liammick08 Insta)
Dressage
the fumes of no.5 settle
into manicured pastel
paddocks of confetti,
adorned with bending and
cascading blue ribbons,
i contort my prettiest pageant smile,
cantering through fleeting fields of lilac,
i can be delightful and indiscreet,
saddled with nuance and unattainability,
i can make you laugh,
whilst showcasing a breadth of human emotions,
i can look at you through
a glass menagerie
and reflect your most desirable qualities,
however, as the crowds of champagne-soaked overcoats
and french pastry fascinators depart,
i am consumed with insatiability,
it’s not enough to be
ceremoniously wrapped in wreaths
and tenuously accepted your new money victor,
you see,
i’ve grown to enjoy the rhythm of routine,
and the more you give,
the hungrier i get.
by Plastique Bag (@plastique.bag Insta)
eclipse of elio
he was born the year of the snake, but i have always known him as lucky, like a cat.
elaborate and handsome and distraught - like a horse.
one of those strange, febrile things which takes joy in counting the
tiny deaths of winter
on fingers stained blue from chicory root
and Violet.
taut chest heaving
on all fours,
an animal fond of rage and paradise
he is one of those islands. when you reach you are desperate for.
summer performs herself violently for him. everything so beautiful
you hate it come june
lazy and loyal and malnourished,
like a dog.
/
on the day his stomach splits open, the moon rises early to watch the death of a god. you know you are meant to warn the others. to take notes on the prerequisites for absolution. the way that violence and luck seek vengeance on beauty. the way to become a sun.
but all you can smell is oranges. everything ripe with exactness and forgiveness; the world no longer spinning and seasick and gullible around him. you cannot look away from his eyelids, wide and shivering and wet, like he had just been swimming in the sea. and his legs, their own endless pleasure, poised perfectly, to run.
by star faeastrea
swim press 