Inhuman Relations #7
"What are you, some evil spirit?" You snarl furiously, covering your chest and crotch with your brown, hairy arms; to your humiliation and relief, your flowing tail provides some cover for your more prominent derriere.
"Not quite: I am a genie," the man answered, pausing to observe the bipedal horse with a lewd smirk. "And you make a very fine anthropomorphic mare. I do believe you are a bright bay, in equine terms. Now you are fit to become a part of my private collection."
Private collection? You have heard this term before and, although you cannot specifically tell what sort of a collection you might be a part of, you understand that it means that you have become a possession of sorts. And how can you stop the 'genie' from his wicked, cruel deeds? You have no power over such a creature of evil.
"Let me go!" You shriek, pinning your ears back with a grimace from how the higher pitch hurts the sensitive eardrums. "You have no right to do this and you have no idea what you're doing. Change me back immediately and I'll forget all about this. You won't have any trouble from me, just let me go."
"Let you go? Oh, what fun is that?" The genie murmurs in delight, gesturing at something out of your field of vision. "But don't you want to see your brother again? You do want to see your brother, don't you?"
You almost do not recognise the weary, transparent figure that steps out from the tree line, its tread dragging at the grass but not disturbing the drops of dew. Though how can you not recognise him, your own brother? You, better than any other, knew the lines of his face, the edge of his features. But, to your eyes, he appears to have aged a thousand years and is undoubtedly a ghost from his grey, 'barely there' appearance. Why, he is so frail that you worry that a gust of wind or a tear from your overfilling eyes might sweep him away at any moment.
Written by Amethyst Mare on 15 June 2012
