Today's drabble is inspired by a Helen Flockhart painting which is part of her show Fire and Fauna at the Rebecca Hossack Gallery until 26th November. Both the content and style immediately put me in mind of myth, so I went with the title and discovered a sad story.
|Mare of Diomedes courtesy of Helen Flockhart|
Abderus offered up his soul. He didn’t know he would do this, but loyalty burned so deep and pure that even fear did not quench it. To save his leader, his soul left his throat and hung there, a gift for a mare’s mouth.
Poor Abderus, a voice now haunting the burning marshes, trapped among the reeds. The mare of Diomedes snorted, whinnied away that feathery thing that lay between her and her meal of flesh.
The bones have sunk into the honoured spot, and Abderus left no mark, except that darkening air that drifts in the marsh at dusk.