I Dare You

The fourth story in my fairy tale/folk lore series and it’s back to Scotland for a story inspired by the Kelpie legend. Kelpies are water horses that are able to shapeshift into human beings and haunt local lochs and rivers. A Kelpie is said to appear as a lost pony with a bridle. If you were to touch the pony, you become stuck and the Kelpie drowns you in the water, tearing you apart and eating you. Other lore says that the Kelpie’s bridle is magical and if obtained, you can control the Kelpie to do your bidding. The clan MacGregor of Scotland is said to have one, passed down over generations.

His sneakers were already slick with mud five minutes into this adventure Brandon was forcing him to go on. Though as Michael traipsed through the woods, he realized it was more his mother who was making him go.

“Brandon and you never play together!” she had insisted. “Go! It’ll be fun.” Michael rolled his eyes as far back as they could go. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. He’s a nice boy. He picks on you because he’s jealous of you.” He gave his mother an exasperated look. She sighed, folding the dish towel she was using to dry plates and placing it on the counter. “Michael, you’re going to go play with your cousin and try and have a good time. If it’s terrible, well, I’ll tell his mother and you don’t have to play with him next time.”

“Promise?” Michael had perked up at the prospect that if this day was terrible, his mother would never force him to play with his terrible cousin again.

“Fine, I promise,” his mother relented. Michael leapt from the kitchen chair and headed out the back door to meet Brandon at the edge of the field as instructed. “Remember not too far! Stay out of the creek. It’s too high this time of year.” Michael yelled something over his shoulder his mother assumed was confirmed he had heard her. She sighed heavily, watching his ten year old figure run across the backyard. She knew Brandon would pick on her son as he always did. Her and her sister kept trying to force them to be friends but it was proving impossible. They were complete opposites; Brandon being athletic and riding his bike with his gang of school friends and Michael passing his summer days deep in fantasy fiction books in his bedroom alone. “Maybe this time will click,” she said to herself, picking the dish towel back up to finish the rest of the plates.

Brandon had been waiting for him on the edge of the woods, leaning against a broken tree and taking his pocket knife to a stick, peeling the bark off of it methodically. Michael had begged his mother for a knife like Brandon’s and she told him over her dead body.

“Hey loser,” his cousin had said without even looking up. He rolled his wide shoulders back and readjusted his knife and stick to start on the other side. “Ready?”

“I guess,” Michael had muttered. Brandon then turned and headed into the woods, Michael following right behind. Now he was still behind Brandon, his sneakers covered in mud, mosquitoes biting at his neck.

“Try and keep up, dickhead.”

“How much father is it?”

Brandon spun on his heel. “Does baby have to go back to mommy for his bath?” Michael huffed in response and picking up his pace. The faster they got to whatever his cousin was showing him, the sooner it would be over.

Brandon had been nice to Michael when they were younger. Brandon was two years older which hadn’t mattered much when you were four and six. Now ten and twelve, it was a big difference and Brandon started digging into Michael the past year or so. Brandon was a spoiled and in spite of Michael agreeing with his mother that his aunt should stop buying him everything he asked for, he was jealous of Brandon’s newest toys and video games. If it was a hot item, Brandon had it within days of its release in stores. Brandon lived a few houses down from Michael and his mom. Both sisters were divorced and had moved near each other to help out with their boys. It annoyed Michael that his aunt often treated him like he was the brat when it really was her own son that was the terror in the family. Watching Brandon snapping branches and slipping over roots in front of him, Michael felt anger growing hot up his neck and face.

“Where are we going, Brandon?” he asked for the third time. The anger was reaching a boiling point. They had been walking for almost thirty minutes and were now farther into the woods than Michael had ever been.

“I told you. I found something I want to show you, asshole.” Michael slapped at the mosquito biting at his neck and grumbled he hoped whatever this thing was, it was worth this trouble. “It’s just up ahead. At the stream.”

Michael stopped instantly. “I can’t go to the stream, Brandon.”

Brandon glanced over his shoulder, his eyes darkening. “Why the hell not?”

Michael swallowed hard. What he was about to say was going to launch a sequence of insults immediately. “My mom doesn’t let me. This time of year the stream is really high and the current is dangerous.” Michael flinched at his own words. He sounded like a wimp even to himself.

Brandon threw his head back and cackled. “God, you are a such a mama’s boy. No wonder you don’t have any friends. Everyone thinks you’re a loser.” He waited for Michael to react but Michael stood his ground, his face as blank as he could manage though the part about no one liking him struck true in his chest. “Fine, you stay here. I’ll just take the pony for myself.”

“The pony?” Michael’s interest bubbled back up, sending the anger back down. “What pony?”

This was what Brandon was looking for; Michael saw the trap and still stepped into it. His cousin grinned mischievously. “Yeah, I found this pony out here this morning all by itself. I thought you’d want to see it.” He paused, lowering his head and lifting his eyes like a puppy does when begging. “I thought maybe we could try and capture it and ride it. What do you think?”

Dammit, Michael thought to himself. He definitely wanted to ride that mysterious pony. He adored horses and had been taking lessons at his summer camp the past few years. He knew Brandon knew that. What he didn’t know and wished he did was if the pony was even real or this was a more elaborate trap for his cousin to shove him into the water or lose him in the trees.

Michael wrestled with moving forward for several moments. Brandon shifted his weight side to side impatiently. “Okay, let’s go,” Michael decided. He may regret it later but the idea of a lost pony that maybe he could convince his mother to keep was too good to pass up.

The mud grew thicker the closer they got to the stream. It had been a rainy summer and the forest was soft and damp. The trees began to thin and Michael could hear the sound of trickling water. A thunderclap rang out as they got closer and both boys froze, crouching down in fear. “Brandon?” Michael asked nervously.

“It’s okay,” Brandon said, his normally steady voice shaking a bit. “It’ll blow over. We’re safe in the trees.” Unsure if that was true, Michael continued to follow Brandon out of the trees and onto the bank of the stream. The forest was quiet here, the sound of the stream drowning out any birdsong. It was a wide stream, at least fifteen feet across. The water was gentle, not the raging river his mother made him imagine it to be. It flowed freely over the smooth stones that peeked out in shallow spots and was soothing to Michael to take in as Brandon trampled loudly down to the water’s edge. Michael peered down the stream to spot where it ended but the snake of water disappeared into a patch of trees and rocks.

“He’s still here!” Brandon whispered loudly. Michael snapped out of the trance the stream had placed him in and made his way down to the water where Brandon was crouched behind a straggly bush. Following his line of sight, Michael spotted a gray pony in the middle of the stream, its head bent towards the water. It was well fed with a long dark mane dripping with water and pieces of wet plants. It wore a bridle and did not appear to be injured in anyway. It was as if someone had merely left it there to graze.

“You weren’t lying!” Michael burst out. Brandon punched him hard in the arm and Michael cried out in pain. The horse lifted its head and looked around yet didn’t run. It bent his head back to the stream, its nose brushing the surface. “Did someone leave him here?” Michael whispered this time, rubbing his arm that was surely about to bruise.

“I guess so,” Brandon answered. His eyebrows were wrinkled in concentration. “They haven’t come back for him so I think he’s free for the taking.”

Michael considered this. It was what he had been hoping for as they approached the stream and it would make this adventure worth it. Still, he hesitated, realizing he was the good mama’s boy Brandon always told him he was. “I don’t think we should steal a pony. We could get in trouble.”

Brandon pulled his fist back, threatening to strike Michael again. Michael reeled backwards, his hand slipping in the mud of the riverbank and sliding him up to his elbow in the water. The splashing caught the pony’s attention and it turned to look their way. It wasn’t startled at all and regarded them with curiosity more than fear. Brandon’s brow relaxed and a grin spread across his face. Michael knew that look and his stomach dropped.

“I dare you to go pet it,” Brandon said. The pony was still staring at them. Michael felt a chill run down his back. He shook his head vigorously. “I knew it. You’re such a pussy. I knew you wouldn’t do it. You should have just stayed in your room. Just shrivel up and die there.” Brandon mumbled the last part but Michael caught it. He knew Brandon was baiting him and knew it always worked. Michael was a loser; he had very few friends at school. He had more at camp but camp was only six weeks at the beginning of the summer. Now he was stuck back at home where no one liked him and everyone called him names behind his back. Or to my face, he thought to himself as he tossed over the idea of walking out and petting the pony. Kids wrote him cruel notes, spit on his back as they passed him in the hall, Brandon always leading the charge.

Maybe if I do this, he’ll stop, Michael thought. He slowly stood, the pony watching him. Brandon pinched him in the leg and gave an encouraging nod. Michael sucked in a sharp breath and put his foot in the water. It rushed up and into his sneakers instantly, soaking in through the soles and gluing his sock to his foot. The other one sinking in beside it, Michael put his hands out in front of him, fingers outspread and palms facing the pony. The animal didn’t flinch, not even its tail. Its large black eyes studied Michael as he continued to inch forward.

“I won’t hurt you,” Michael was murmuring. The pony remained calm, watching. Michael was a foot away when he suddenly stopped. The pony’s eyes were dark pools, the sunlight reflecting in it like stars. Something lay deeper in the center of its eyes that had made Michael stay put. Something menacing and cruel that caught Michael’s breath in his throat.

“Just do it, you asshole!” Brandon shouted from the river bank. “Do it or I’ll tell everyone how you shit your pants out here.”

Michael swirled his head around. “I did not!” He could feel hot tears starting to form and turned back to the pony. It flicked its tail, the hairs hitting the water with a slap as a crack of thunder echoed above. Michael stumbled backwards, slipping in the stream, the thunder scaring him. Michael peered over his shoulder with a pleading look to Brandon who was standing now, arms crossed, glaring at him.

“Do it or I’ll kick the shit out of you,” his cousin sneered. Anger flared again inside Michael and he brought his arms down to his sides, clenching his fists. He looked back at the pony, still with its black eyes on him, and he began to walk backwards. “What the hell are you doing?” Brandon yelled.

Michael turned back to the pony who was still watching him. He inched closer, his one hand almost touching the pony’s snout. The pony seem to be offering it, lifting it higher to meet Michael’s palm. A sensation like a magnetic started in the middle of Michael’s hand, pulling it down to the pony’s nose. The hairs on the back of his neck raised up and he yanked his hand back. There was something intoxicating about touching the pony and Michael didn’t trust it. He had never met a horse that had felt the way this pony did. Fear grew in his belly.

“I’m not doing it. It looks dirty,” Michael lied. Another glance into the animal’s eyes, Michael saw they held something violent and menacing. “You want it so badly, you do it.”

“No way, dickhead,” Brandon huffed. “I ain’t getting rabies or whatever it has. You need to do it first. You’re the bait.” Brandon squinted his eyes menacingly and a dark smile crept across his face. “People would be sad if I died. No one would care if you did.”

Michael stopped halfway back to the riverbank. Brandon’s expression was full of satisfaction; that horrible, predatory satisfaction bullies get when their prey is defeated. The anger scorched the sides of Michael’s face. His nails dug into his palms, deep dents forming around them in his flesh. He heard the pony’s tail hit the water again, thunder crashing down once more. I have to play his game, Michael realized. He wasn’t sure of the rules even with all his experience being the bait. It was worth a shot to get them out of the woods and maybe get a pony to kick his cousin in the balls.

“What are you, scared?” It felt so stupid as soon as Michael said it. Shockingly, he watched it land on Brandon’s face, the smiling disappearing. He watched his cousin bristle a bit, rolling those beefy shoulders back and biting his lip.

“I’m not scared. Why would I be scared of a stupid pony?” Michael’s jaw dropped open and he quickly shut it. Was this actually working? Is he really falling for the same trap?

“Then go and do it,” Michael clapped back. “Go on. He didn’t even move when I went up to him. He isn’t scared of people.” He paused and considered his next move. “You’re the only one scared here.”

“You are!” Brandon bellowed but he continued forward into the stream, splashing as he struggled to gain footing on the slippery bottom. “Watch and learn, you asshole.” Brandon splayed water all up Michael’s side as he plowed passed him. Michael grinned broadly and didn’t even notice. He wasn’t sure what would happen when Brandon touched the pony but the fear that was vibrating inside him made him glad he had refused.

Brandon did the same motions Michael did with his palms out and open. The pony took two steps towards Brandon and shoved its snout into Brandon’s hand.

“HA! He LOVES me!” Brandon exclaimed. “I can’t believe you didn’t want to pet this little guy.” His cousin softened as he placed his other hand on the pony’s mane. Michael began to regret not petting the pony. He was disappointed nothing had happened to Brandon as well. Michael started to move forward, sighing heavily that he had once again lost, when Brandon began screaming.

“What is it?” Michael said, stopping where he was. Brandon was shouting, his hands still on the horse and his entire body leaning backwards as if…

“I’M STUCK! IT HAS ME! I’M STUCK! MICHAEL, HELP ME!” His screams were desperate and high pitched. Brandon’s knees were bent, pulling as hard as he could, his feet sinking into the silt of the stream. “MICHAEL!”

Michael cautiously stepped forward, surveying the situation. He couldn’t see how Brandon was stuck but sure enough, his fingers were cemented into the pony’s fur and mane and not moving no matter how hard Brandon yanked at them. Brandon’s face was beet red and he was spitting and grunting with effort.

“I don’t know how to get you off!” Michael finally replied. “Where is your knife?” The idea came to him suddenly and laced with a dark pleasure. “I can cut you out!”

“Are you insane?” Brandon yelped. “I don’t trust you to cut anything!” The pony began to trod lightly downstream. “OKAY, OKAY! It’s in my pocket!”

Michael very slowly approached. The pony regarded him with interest, watching every motion he made. Michael was able to get to Brandon, standing directly behind him. “Okay, this pocket?” Brandon nodded. Michael reached down into his cousin’s jeans and pulled out the lusted after pocket knife. It felt good in his hand and he gripped it tightly before releasing the blade. He inched closer to the pony, the realization he may also get stuck rising into his mind.

Michael was about to lay the blade underneath Brandon’s fingers that lay on the pony’s mane when the pony cracked its tail against the water and rushed forward, dragging Brandon with it. Thunder clapped above and Michael shouted and began to run after the pony. Brandon was shrieking, his legs flailing as he tried to kick the pony to release him. He stumbled and lost his footing, the pony dragging him entirely now through the water. The pony broke into a canter and Michael was slowed down by racing through water that was not above his knees.

“I’ll go get help!” Michael shouted. “I’ll go right now!” Brandon kept shrieking. The pony was almost to the patch of trees and rocks where the stream went out of sight. Michael watched as the creature burst through the brush and carried Brandon onto the other side. Michael was tempted to rush after them; he could be his cousin’s savoir and never be bullied again.

“Brandon?” Michael called. There was some distant splashing, a bone chilling shriek from Brandon and then silence. “Brandon?” Michael’s breath steadied and he began to walk downstream again. He kept his distance from the rocks up ahead as he continued to call his cousin’s name to no answer. Michael stood in the stream, the current picking up and slapping against his soaking jeans. “Brandon?” he called one last time. Clutching the knife in his hand, he started to make his way to the bank. Maybe I can spot him from up the hill, he thought.

Watching where he stepped, Michael made his way up onto the bank and walked a ways to the pile of rocks where the pony had disappeared. Peering over and through the patch of trees, the stream was empty. Gazing into the water to see if he could spot his cousin perhaps stuck underwater, he noticed patches of red flowering in the stream and oddly shaped pieces floating above them. Realizing what it was and denying it instantly, Michael spun on his heel and headed home. He didn’t turn back, he didn’t rush away. He started walking at a steady pace, pretending he hadn’t just seen his cousin’s insides floating in the stream.

“So, how was it?” his mother called from the front of the house when she heard the back door shut. Michael grabbed an apple from a bowl on the table and pocketed the knife he had held in his hand the whole way home.

“Fine," he replied. His mother was reading on the couch and looked up with a warm smile. “He didn’t pick on me too bad, you were right.”

“See! I told you,” his mother beamed. “Dinner’s cooking. Should be ready in twenty. Want to watch something?” Michael shook his head as she reach for the remote.

“No, I’m going to take a shower.” He had left his wet sneakers outside and rolled up his jeans. He watched his mother’s eyes take in the dirt and mud clinging to them. He waited for her to scold him but it never came. She was happy the two boys had gotten along; she wasn’t about to ruin that win.

“Sounds good. Toss those pants in the laundry room why don’t you.” His mother went back to her book, her smile still glowing. As he headed upstairs, Michael noticed Brandon’s backpack sitting by the door where he had left it as he said hello to Michael’s mother. He grabbed it, making sure his mother didn’t see, and took it with him.

Michael headed upstairs and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He sat on his bed, the backpack next to him and took out the knife. He opened the blade and twisted it back and forth, letting it catch the light. Michael unzipped Brandon’s backpack and took out his new Nintendo Switch. He took the knife and put it in a drawer in his nightstand so his mother wouldn’t yell at him for having it. Turning the Switch on, he sat back against his pillows and began to play the game that Brandon had been as he waited for his mother to call him down to dinner, a sense of relief washing over him knowing he would never be forced to play with his cousin again.