Scandinavian Heartstrings, in Drop D.

Chapter 8.1 The Gilded Cage

The tree leaves rustled in the summer breeze. It was as if the whole wood was speaking to him, warning him, but he wasn't listening. Instead he was spitting muddy strands of brown hair out of his mouth as he scrambled up the embankment. The construction team had moved large amounts of earth around the park and you could start to guess where they were going to build the ski jump. It had started to rain which turned any exposed dirt into a ski jump, including the steep gouge in the earth that Toki was trying to negotiate.

He didn't know any other way through this part of the wood and so tried, yet again, to scramble up the slippery slope. Fuck the Olympics! Why did they have to have them here anyway? He dug his fingers into the earth and began to climb up the embankment on all fours. Large clods of dirt and rock fell away and the water trickled down to create new mud in their vacancies. Teenage Toki finally made it to the top of his obstacle. His front was covered in cold mud from a fall so he wiped his dirty hands on the back of his jeans without a great deal of success. The slight elevation gave him a view of the tree tops way off in the distance, back towards the village, where black smoke climbed higher and higher into the damp summer sky.

Toki simply knew that the black turret of smoke off in the distance was his father's church burning. His father appeared on the mound beside him, his long black robe remained impervious to the wind and rain and he spoke to Toki, without uttering a sound.

"When a man challenges the will of God, it is no more effective than a house cat challenging the will of a lion." His father conveyed telepathically. "Once we succumb to our greatest fear, the fear of our father, then there is no room in our hearts to fear men."

Toki continued to stare off into the distance as the sound of hooves drew nearer. A snow white horse appeared out of the trees with its head as the body of a beautiful blonde man. The polished tip of a spear glinted in the dappled sunlight as the beast strode lazily to the bottom of the embankment, swishing its long, golden tail in a very James Dean fashion. Toki gawked openly at the majestic creature whose hooves and coat attracted no mud and whose hair and tail did not wilt in the rain. Toki suddenly became embarrassed by his own shabby appearance and tried to wipe the muck from his face, again, without a great deal of success.

The centaur placed one hand on what would have been his hip and shifted his weight to his other back leg. It then brandished the spear at Toki, pointing it straight at his young chest. The beast spoke to him in a familiar voice "Hello, little Toki. What secrets bring you to my wood?"

Toki blushed with secrets and disapproval radiated from the black robe next to him. He looked to his father who met his eyes in the same discerning way they always had. Toki repeated his father's words diligently to chance at his approval.

"I am filled with the fear of my father and so I have no room in my heart to fear men!" He recited obediently.

The centaur laughed haughtily, "I expect that is true!" Toki blushed again, this time at his ironic choice of words. "And for that reason, you have something I want, for as you can see, I am more than a simple man." The creature explained.

"What could I have of value to you?" Toki asked in earnest.

The centaur lifted both corners of his pouted mouth in an eloquent grin. "Your pagan heart." It replied and planted the spear in Toki's chest.

Toki woke with a start. His heart beat out of sync for a few moments as his adrenal gland righted itself. He put a hand to his forehead and stared blankly at the new model planes. He didn't recognise his own ceiling for a moment, then his conscious brain caught up with him. He sat up and positioned himself on the edge of his bed with his head in one hand. His long hair skimmed the faded white and pink stripes on his shoulder blades, the worn away brail telling the story of his past. His brain was awake but his body was not and it took a great amount of willpower to stand and walk the ten feet to his bathroom. He lit a cigarette and checked his phone, it was 6:36pm; how long had he been asleep? It felt like he had run a marathon. Throwing on a robe, he willed his sagging body down the stairs for some coffee.