Eccentric blonde hair was tossed about as the wild stallion bucked and bounded it's way down the hill. His nostrils were flaring out of anger, or perhaps pain. Fetish platforms, a sleek eel skin stiletto were pressing into the beast's rear side. Her hands slid forward on the bare backed animal. The gloved hands gripped the mane like there was no end to the rolling night. Cackling echoed through the evening air as the mad woman and mad horse flew into the darkness. Heavily made up eyes narrowed, her pinstriped gown blowing behind her in the wind. Romantic for being so damn macabre.
A flash of lightening had temporarily faded the whole scene to a blinding white. As the world comes back into view one sees things a new. The stallion had considerably calmed as it trotted to a near by stream, rolling black through the valley. The creature on top of this wild vision was no where to be seen.
In the horizon a town comes into sight. It was light by candle and coarsen street lamps.
Two figures cast in shadow appeared going through a doorway. The slam of the door was followed by a characteristic, all-be-it, famous audible of heels against stone.
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Comotion of the Pelvis Area
Commuinal Piss of a counter-productive know-it-nothing.
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GAIA VILLAIN.