A Day in the Life of a Cavalry Black

I stood at attention, my sleek black coat gleaming in the sun.

It's hard for a horse to simply stand (even harder when we are surrounded by fresh delectable-smelling food,) but we are trained to it. My nostrils flared to the scent of fresh meat. I watched one of the dumb beasts step closer and closer. Tourists, with their ignorance and arrogance, make the easiest prey, and their stupidity makes them tasty.

Today, a particularly dull-witted one wandered too close. Snapping pictures, oblivious. His loud, obnoxious laughter grated on me. I could taste the foolishness radiating off him. The dumber they are, the better they taste.

I waited, muscles coiled, eyes fixed on my target. He stepped closer, his back turned to me as he fiddled with the device in his hand, ready to take a photo. Perfect. Swift and silent, I lunged forward and bit down hard. How juicy his yell of surprise! His fear and pain! I gobbled it all down. Anger and humiliation, those too.

My rider sat, calm and collected, hardly twitching in his seat, only shifting his weight to keep us balanced. I could feel a smile thrum through his body. I feasted on that, too.

Later, I snacked on a female. So little and short, I practically lifted her off the ground. She pulled away, so I shifted my grip, biting hard on her squishy chest. I ground my teeth together to the delicious sound of her squeals. Euphoric, biting deeper. A brief a metallic tang flooded my nose and mouth; a delightful accompaniment to her humiliation.

They never learned.

Later, in the quiet of the stable, we were rewarded with a feast. The buckets they brought us were filled to the brim with pink and red. Hard white bits stuck out for us to grind with our teeth. I tore into the man’s flesh, savouring the rich, tangy flavor. His idiocy made him tender and scrumptious, each mouthful more satisfying than the last.

Night drew her blanket over us. The taste of fresh meat still lingered in my mouth. I am a famed Cavalry Black, and I have a taste for idiot flesh.

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Word count excluding note: 366

Submitted on Thursday 1st August at 11.42AM

*Very Quick Author's Note*

First of all, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 214 day streak since 1st January.

Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Please do leave me a comment. I try to reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.

The story behind the story: Is it just me, or are there a lot of videos of the King's Guard at the moment? In a lot of them, the horse (I think it's the same one) is chomping on tourists beside a great big sign warning that the horses may kick or bite. I find this completely hilarious.

First of all, I should probably make it clear that this is in no way a poor reflection of the Royal Family. I don't want to be hanged for treason or some shit. In real life the horses are cared for and trained to a high standard. They are definitely probably not bred and trained to feast on human flesh. I believe the particularly grumpy horse is named Ormonde, so this story is for him, gawd bless him.

These horses are geldings, chosen by the Riding Master around the age of three for their smart looks and confirmation. They're trained for several months and named after significant battles or places. If I understand it right, every year has a letter. So, the horses brought in the same year as Ormonde would all have a name beginning with O.

Worthy of note: "tourists" can be shitty no matter where they are from. Don't be that guy! Have some respect for the people and places you are visiting. Learn what is expected before you travel. Obey the signs and notices. Otherwise, Ormonde will come galloping through your dreams, carry you off and gobble you up, and then you'll be sad. Remember: stupidest people taste best! So be smart, be safe.

Similar content: I have written about flesh-eating horse like creatures a few times!

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Thank you!

Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

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