The Cold Wait
The mist on the loch is thick enough to chew. It hangs over the black water, obscuring the far bank. The silence is absolute, broken only by the lap of waves against the pebble shore.
Standing perfectly still at the water's edge is a horse. It is a magnificent stallion, black as obsidian, with a mane that looks like wet seaweed. Its coat glistens with an unnatural sheen. It paws the ground, exhaling a plume of steam into the cold air.
This is the Kelpie.
It is not an animal. It is a hunger given form. It waits. Patience is its primary weapon. It can stand here for days, a statue of equine perfection, waiting for the one thing it craves: a rider.
The Lure
Voices drift through the mist. Children.
The Kelpie’s ears flick. It lowers its head, grazing on the sparse grass. It projects an aura of calm, of domesticity. It wants to look like a lost pony, gentle and inviting.
Three boys emerge from the heather. They are playing, throwing stones into the water. They spot the horse.
"Look!" one shouts. "A stray!"
They approach cautiously. The Kelpie does not spook. It makes a soft, whickering sound. It turns its large, dark eyes toward them. To a human, those eyes look soulful. To the knowing, they look like deep pools with no bottom.
The boys come closer. They reach out to stroke its neck. The Kelpie’s skin feels cold, cold as ice, but textured like velvet.
"It's tame," the oldest boy says. "I bet we could ride it."
The Trap Springs
The Kelpie stands rock still. This is the critical moment. If it moves too soon, they will flee. If it waits too long, they might lose interest.
The boy grabs the mane. He swings his leg over.
Snap.
The trap activates.
The Kelpie’s skin changes. It is no longer velvet. It becomes a powerful adhesive. The boy’s hands are stuck to the mane. His legs are glued to the flanks. He tries to pull away, but he is fused to the beast.
"I'm stuck!" he screams.
The other boys laugh, thinking it a joke. Then the Kelpie begins to move.
It does not trot. It charges. It heads straight for the water.
The Plunge
The laughter turns to screaming. The other boys try to pull their friend off, but their hands stick too. They manage to rip themselves free, leaving skin behind, falling back onto the stones in terror.
The rider is not so lucky. The Kelpie hits the water with a massive splash. It does not swim on the surface. It dives.
The cold shock of the loch takes the boy's breath away. He is dragged down, down into the dark. The water turns from grey to black. The pressure builds.
The Kelpie is in its element now. Its hooves become webbed. Its tail becomes a rudder. It swims with terrifying speed toward its lair, a cave of bones at the bottom of the trench.
The Feeding
The struggle is brief. The boy drowns long before they reach the bottom.
In the darkness of the deep, the Kelpie sheds its horse form. It becomes something else, something fluid and ancient. It feeds. It consumes the liver, the heart, the soft tissues. It leaves the rest for the eels.
It is a gruesome cycle, but natural in its own way. The loch demands life. The Kelpie is merely the collector.
The Resurface
Hours later, the surface of the loch breaks. The black horse emerges, shaking the water from its mane.
It walks back to the shore. It stands in the same spot, posing against the grey sky. It looks perfect. It looks beautiful.
It waits for the next traveler. The mist rolls in, covering the water, hiding the secrets of the deep. The Kelpie lowers its head to graze, a nightmare disguised as a dream.
