It’s 8am, and there is a dead saddled horse in my bed. Mind you, it’s a very small horse, a miniature pony, if you will. But it is fully saddled, complete with bit and bridle, and it is most definitely dead.
Two questions immediately arise: 1) just how in the hell did a dead horse make its way into my bed, and 2) why my bed? It’d be like a scene straight out of The Godfather, only there’s no blood and it’s the whole horse.
I throw back my sheets, temporarily covering the horse’s corpse, and climb out of bed. My mind is still reeling from this surprise wake-up call. My bedroom door is open, which is odd, because I always close it at night. I poke my head out the door and notice several marks on my wood floors leading from the kitchen to my bedroom. Was it possible the horse wasn’t dead when it made its way into my bed? That it died only after climbing up into my bed? And why is it saddled?
I follow the marks into the kitchen — and find a crate with the lid pried off. There is hay in the crate, and on the floor around it. So someone must have delivered the horse to my house. Only, how did they get in? I have a security system, and it never activated last night.
There are long scrapes behind the crate leading to my French doors. Obviously the crate was pushed into my kitchen, which must have made a terrible racket. Did I really sleep through all this?
I go back to my bedroom, the mystery of the crate set aside for the moment. I flip my sheets back, uncovering the horse. I place my hand on its side, feeling its fur, and the corpse is still warm. It only just died.
None of this makes sense. Who would break into my house, deliver a horse in a crate, then release that horse and somehow get it into my bed, where it can die? So many questions, and no answers that I can find. This is certainly going to be a weird day.
