01-15-2018, 05:27 PM
<style type="text/css">.moggett_container {position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 440px; /*frame width*/padding: 10px;background: #101010; /*background color*/border: 0px solid #000; /*border size, style, and color*/}.moggett_container p {margin: 0;}.moggett_image {border: 0px solid #000; /*image border size, style, and color*/}.moggett_message {text-align: center;font: 12px 'Helvetica', serif; /*message font size and face*/padding: 15px 0;color: #dddcda; /*message font color*/}.moggett_name {text-align: center;font: 30px 'Helvetica', serif; /*name font size and face*/color: #545453; /*message font color*/padding: 0;}.moggett_quote {text-align: center;font: 12px 'Helvetica', serif; /*quote font size and face*/color: #b2b1b0; /*quote font color*/padding: 0;}</style><center><div class="moggett_container"><img class="moggett_image" src="https://s10.postimg.org/gfgt6qosp/6c302abccef72f811257181eb030579e_1.jpg">;<p class="moggett_message">The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
Or so it seemed to Moggett. He had existed in this land, a hidden inhabitant, for close to two decades now. He watches as they come and go – relationships are built, foals are born, some amongst them pass on. He hears them speak of battles, alliances, wars… but the words pass him by as quickly as their speakers. The lands themselves had changed as well. Even with all of this tumult, he remained relatively the same. Sure, there were the usual signs of aging, but the male felt he would simply die as he had lived, in quiet and unobtrusive loneliness.
Today would be a day like any other, he muses as his teeth snip the tops off the fresh blades of grass beneath him. The day was young, and many were just beginning to stir or still remain motionless like stones, dotting the land around him like some strange equine memorial. Despite being rather unsocial, Moggett felt safest in the company of others. He was smaller than the majority of them, and his best bet in remaining unmolested by some of the powerful folk that he knew to reside here was to fade into the masses. It’s how he has lived this long and he intends to remain on in this way.
That is until a ridiculously tall spotted stallion almost steps on him. Moggett grunts and throws himself to the side just in time. He blinks several times, obviously phased, before turning to see what on earth was wrong with the larger male to go around stomping on people this early in the morning. The dust-colored stallion seems to be in a sort of daze – his ears and eyes perked towards some nonexistent stimuli. Moggett shakes his head disapprovingly, the young male having disturbed him greatly, and bends to take another bite before his curiosity gets the best of him and his earth-colored eyes turn to look after the sleepwalker’s progress.
Suddenly, Moggett decides to follow him, if for no other reason than to perhaps get a good laugh. It wasn’t long before he regretted his decision; his little legs were no match for the larger male’s and he ended up huffing and puffing just to stay within sight of him. For a moment he thinks he has lost his target and he slows to catch his breath. Looking around, he glimpses the painted body turning past a large oak and he makes to follow only to notice that something was not quite right. The ground past the large tree seems to be less vibrant, less real somehow. “Wait!” He calls out, hoping to wake the male but he can no longer see him through a patchy fog that has enveloped both the horse and the tree. Warily he follows, but the minute his hoof touches the fog he feels the ground open up beneath him and swallow him whole.
---
When he opens his eyes, he can see nothing but the fog. The meadow, the oak, the sleepwalker - gone. As he waits for the fog to clear he silently berates his own curiosity that had led him here. Sullenness turns to fear as he is surrounded by an alien sound, like the scratching of birds after worms, but amplified. The mist begins to lift and his eyes grasp out at the first thing they can see – black lines against white. Letters. A name. His name. Moggett.</p><p class="moggett_name">moggett</p><p class="moggett_quote">I’m a weight around your neck</p></div></center>
Or so it seemed to Moggett. He had existed in this land, a hidden inhabitant, for close to two decades now. He watches as they come and go – relationships are built, foals are born, some amongst them pass on. He hears them speak of battles, alliances, wars… but the words pass him by as quickly as their speakers. The lands themselves had changed as well. Even with all of this tumult, he remained relatively the same. Sure, there were the usual signs of aging, but the male felt he would simply die as he had lived, in quiet and unobtrusive loneliness.
Today would be a day like any other, he muses as his teeth snip the tops off the fresh blades of grass beneath him. The day was young, and many were just beginning to stir or still remain motionless like stones, dotting the land around him like some strange equine memorial. Despite being rather unsocial, Moggett felt safest in the company of others. He was smaller than the majority of them, and his best bet in remaining unmolested by some of the powerful folk that he knew to reside here was to fade into the masses. It’s how he has lived this long and he intends to remain on in this way.
That is until a ridiculously tall spotted stallion almost steps on him. Moggett grunts and throws himself to the side just in time. He blinks several times, obviously phased, before turning to see what on earth was wrong with the larger male to go around stomping on people this early in the morning. The dust-colored stallion seems to be in a sort of daze – his ears and eyes perked towards some nonexistent stimuli. Moggett shakes his head disapprovingly, the young male having disturbed him greatly, and bends to take another bite before his curiosity gets the best of him and his earth-colored eyes turn to look after the sleepwalker’s progress.
Suddenly, Moggett decides to follow him, if for no other reason than to perhaps get a good laugh. It wasn’t long before he regretted his decision; his little legs were no match for the larger male’s and he ended up huffing and puffing just to stay within sight of him. For a moment he thinks he has lost his target and he slows to catch his breath. Looking around, he glimpses the painted body turning past a large oak and he makes to follow only to notice that something was not quite right. The ground past the large tree seems to be less vibrant, less real somehow. “Wait!” He calls out, hoping to wake the male but he can no longer see him through a patchy fog that has enveloped both the horse and the tree. Warily he follows, but the minute his hoof touches the fog he feels the ground open up beneath him and swallow him whole.
---
When he opens his eyes, he can see nothing but the fog. The meadow, the oak, the sleepwalker - gone. As he waits for the fog to clear he silently berates his own curiosity that had led him here. Sullenness turns to fear as he is surrounded by an alien sound, like the scratching of birds after worms, but amplified. The mist begins to lift and his eyes grasp out at the first thing they can see – black lines against white. Letters. A name. His name. Moggett.</p><p class="moggett_name">moggett</p><p class="moggett_quote">I’m a weight around your neck</p></div></center>