The Black Horseman

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              Once thought to be a friend, the sun now revealed its true colors as endless rays of light and heat poured down without mercy or hesitation. The split personality that ruled the heavenly body was exposed, translucent as a rainbow conjured by a prism, artificial beauty and artificial kindness. Cast aside were the times when the sun smiled down upon the boy’s happier days; the sun had become the emotionless torturer, burning and blistering any bare skin it touched. There was no escape, no reprieve and no hope. The sun did not care that the boy was scalded and blazing red. It did not care that he was stripped naked, his skin beginning to bubble or that he was slowly dying of thirst. The sun rained its clean, clear rays down upon the earth with no thought to the boy tied tightly to the scaffolding. The sun cared not that he’d been beaten, scratched, pinched and raped, and as the moments sauntered slowly by, Gwaynn was finding that his cares were also slipping away, carried off with the sunshine.

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