Rhian Callcut

The Little Rocking Horse

The Girl A glint of pink shone from the mane of the tiny horse as it rocked back and forth upon the swiftness of the little girl’s swaying movements. Her tiny fingers clutched around its body; her stumped and muddy fingernails almost reaching together at the tip of her looping digits. The dusty glaze of solid hair met a figure of moon-beaming silver, splashed onto the ceramic of which made up the hollowed body and subsequent pair of beams.