Overview
Seeing the Silver Horse as a cute toy, Susannah gives it to her brother, Niall, as a present. One night Susannah awakens and finds neither her brother nor the Silver Horse; racing to the park, she sees her brother riding not a toy, but a stunning stallion. Susannah, Niall, and the horse are whisked away to a land unseen and unknown. This is how this unforgettable adventure through fantasy and lost toys begins. Now, lost in the Realm of Dreams, Susannah must fight for her brother or he will forget his entire life as a human.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781497610514 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Open Road Media |
| Publication date: | 04/29/2014 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 88 |
| Sales rank: | 1,031,619 |
| File size: | 771 KB |
| Age Range: | 8 - 12 Years |
About the Author
Elizabeth A. Lynn won two World Fantasy Awards in one year, for her novel Watchtower and the short story “The Woman Who Loved the Moon.” She is also the author of The Dancers of Arun, The Northern Girl, A Different Light, The Sardonyx Net, Dragon’s Winter, Dragon’s Treasure, and the short fiction collection The Woman Who Loved the Moon and Other Stories. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area and teaches martial arts.
Read an Excerpt
The Silver Horse
By Elizabeth A. Lynn
OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1984 Elizabeth A. LynnAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4976-1051-4
CHAPTER 1
Susannah sat looking out her bedroom window at the park.
You're too old to play with toys, she told herself silently. Much too old.
Beyond the green square park she could just see the skyscrapers of San Francisco. They seemed shiny and clean against the sky of brilliant blue. Sometimes Susannah could look at them and pretend that they were not steel skyscrapers but silver and gold and crystal towers.
Not today, she thought. They look like fence posts today.
Her nose itched, the way it did when she wanted to cry and wouldn't. Rubbing it, she turned her back to the window and looked across the room. Her brother's purple toy chest sat beside his bed, lid down. The wooden silver horse—Niall was crazy about horses—stood on top.
The horse had been a birthday present. Susannah's best friend's mother, Celie, had found it in a thrift store, scraped it clean of its flaking black paint and repainted it with silver glitter. As its proud mane and arrogant pricked ears caught the light, they sparkled like sunshine on the sea. It had only been in the house three days, but it made Susannah's things—her checked bedspread, her pictures on the wall, even the bright fantastic jackets on her books—look shabby.
Niall was so pleased with it that he had stuffed all his other toys out of sight.
There was one thing in the room the horse couldn't make shabby. Crossing to her bed, Susannah reached beneath it and pulled out her new paint box. She had saved her allowance money all year and had bought it for herself. Her parents had bought her a real sable brush to go with it. It had forty colors in it. There had only been twelve colors in her old paint box.
Hugging the paint box, Susannah walked to the horse. I bet I could draw you, she told it. Horses were hard to draw. The difficult part would be the head, with all the delicate detail of lips and eyes and ears. It would be hard, too, to show the way the muscles ran on the graceful arching neck. The musculature, Susannah repeated to herself. She had just learned the word. The horse had very clear musculature.
Niall wandered into the room. "What are you doing?" he whined. Without waiting for her answer, he shouted, "Ma, Susannah's bothering my horse!"
"I'm not bothering your old horse," Susannah said. "How could I bother him, he's just wood!" Shoving the new paint box under the bed, she jammed her fists into her pockets and went into the hallway. She had made a secret vow that she wouldn't fight with Niall, no matter how snotty he was, for a week after his birthday, and she knew if she stayed in the bedroom she would break her promise.
Had she been that snotty when she was six years old?
She doubted it. But when she was six, Niall was one year old. He was kind of cute then. And they hadn't had to share a room; he had slept in her parents' room, in a crib. One thing you could say about school; in school they didn't have to be together the whole day as they were now. Almost Susannah regretted that there was no school.
But she didn't want to be in school. She just wanted Niall to be in school.
The door at the end of the hallway was open a little. "Mother?" she said.
"I'm here," said her mother's voice from the other side of the door. Susannah pulled the door further open and stuck her head around it. Her mother turned around. "Hey," she said. "Come outside."
Susannah slid through the opening. Her mother was sitting on the top landing with her feet on the steps. Carefully, because the steps were splintery and because she was barefoot, Susannah climbed down two steps, sat, and leaned against her mother's legs.
Her mother's name was Bonnie. She was tall, with golden hair that she wore in braids or piled on top of her head. She liked to cook and she liked to dance. But she hadn't gone out dancing in a long time, because she was going to have a baby. She had been going to have a baby since Christmas. Susannah had heard her say once to Celie that she liked having babies, she liked the feel of being pregnant. Celie, who had been pregnant at the time, said, "I don't!" Susannah didn't think she would like it much, walking around all puffed out in front and not wearing blue jeans.
But she wondered what it felt like, being pregnant.
Her mother skipped her fingers over the top of Susannah's head. "Hey, Susie-pooh. How you doing?"
"Okay," Susannah said. She rested her chin on her arms. "Mother?"
"Hmm?"
"When will the baby come out?" She had been told. But it was hard for her sometimes to keep track of months.
"In September. This is June. June to July, July to August, August to September." She walked her fingers over the top of Susannah's head again. "A Virgo kid."
Susannah knew what that meant, sort of. It meant that the planets and stars that were in the sky the day you were born made you act in certain ways as you got older. Mother read about it in the paper every morning.
Susannah had asked Mr. Gonzalez, her teacher, about astrology. He had said that the stars and planets were so far away that they couldn't make anyone do anything.
Susannah rubbed her cheek on her mother's leg. "Am I a Virgo kid?" she asked.
Her mother stroked her hair. "You're a Gemini. Niall, too. That's why you fight all the time."
Susannah pressed her lips together. She didn't want to tell her mother about her vow. Not yet.
"Hey," her mother said, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Susannah said. "I was thinking about astrology."
Her mother looked at her with an odd expression. Then she turned to glance through into the front hall. "Niall's being too quiet. You know where he is?"
Oh, who cares, Susannah thought. "He's playing with his horse."
"The new one? Good. Maybe he'll stay quiet for a while."
Hah, Susannah thought. Bet he won't.
Suddenly her mother put her hand on her belly. "Woo."
"What?" Susannah said.
"The baby kicked!" Her mother beckoned. "Come up next to me." Susannah moved up to sit beside her mother. "Feel."
Susannah stretched out her hand. Her mother took it and guided it to a place on her belly. Susannah felt a sharp quiver against her palm.
"Feel that?"
"Uh huh." Susannah swallowed. "Does it hurt?"
"Nope."
"What does it feel like?"
Her mother laughed. "It feels like a burp."
"Oh." Suddenly Susannah felt it again. Like a baby chicken, she thought, pecking at a shell. That made her feel strange. Jerking her hand away, she rubbed it on her knee.
Her mother touched her cheek softly. "Hey, Susie-pooh," she said. "You know, there's a live person in there. Toes and ears and a heart and everything, almost ready to come out."
"I know that," Susannah said, annoyed. She had seen pictures and knew what babies looked like before they were born.
"Which would you prefer," her mother said, "a boy or a girl?"
I don't want it at all, Susannah thought. But she couldn't say that.
Babies were babies: they cried and were wet all the time. There was a baby on the street already: Juanito, Danielle's brother. She wondered if a little sister would be as much hassle as a brother. "I don't care."
"Mmm," said her mother. She stretched her arms above her head. "Are we out of milk?"
Susannah tried to picture the inside of the refrigerator as she had seen it last. "I don't remember."
"Would you look?"
"Okay." She went in. The house seemed very dark. The kitchen tile was cool on her bare feet. She opened the refrigerator.
There were usually two big gallon containers of milk on the middle shelf. There was one there now. She reached in and took it out. It was very light.
"Merow," said a voice near the ground. Something warm and soft and furry brushed her left leg.
"Hello, Mr. D," she said.
The big square orange cat butted his head on her knee. "Mowr," he said.
"I know what you want." Susannah took his water bowl from its place and put it on the kitchen table. Then she poured the rest of the milk—it was only a tiny bit—into the bowl. "Come on," she whispered.
Mr. D jumped to the table top. Purring, he folded himself up beside the bowl and drank. Susannah put the empty container in the pantry and went out. "There was a little left," she said. "I gave it to Mr. D."
"Dad can get more tomorrow. But we'll need some tonight. Would you go to the store and get a quart?" Mother dug into her pocket and brought out a dollar. "Bring me the change."
"All right," Susannah said. Putting the dollar into her own pocket, she started down the steps.
"Put something on your feet!"
Her thongs were in the front hall. Wriggling her toes into them, Susannah went down the steps. Her mother waved from the top.
Susannah loved her street. It was named Allan Street and it was only one block long. There were lots of streets like it in San Francisco. Her father—he was a city bus driver, and knew all about the streets—had showed her on the city map: there was Carl Street and Paul Street and Jessie Street and Edna Street. There was no street named Susannah. But there was no street named Niall, either!
Allan Street's tall wooden houses had curly decorations and designs all over them. Some of the houses were painted neat colors: blue and bright yellow and gold. Some even had stained glass windows! At the bottom of the street sat a little store, a park, and a streetcar line beside the park. Susannah loved to watch the red and yellow streetcar stop at the bottom of the hill before the tunnel. It would sit humming as people got off and on, and then it would close its doors—thunk, thunk!—and come rattling and shaking up the slope. At night she would hear it between dreams, like the soft snore of the cat, and it made her feel good.
At the entrance to the store Susannah stopped, hoping to see a streetcar heading for the tunnel, but none appeared. She went into the store. The cooler was in the back. She took a quart of milk from it and brought it to Al at the counter.
"How ya doing?" said Al, punching the buttons on his machine.
"All right," Susannah said, giving him her dollar. She watched him count out coins. She had heard Celie say that Al was an Arab and it made her curious—when he got home, did he take off his shirt and put on a headdress and a long white robe?
"Need a bag?" he asked. He always asked Mother that, and she always answered, "Nope. Save a tree."
Susannah shook her head. Al leaned over the counter to give her the change. As she stuck it in her pocket she wished that she could spend it to buy beef jerky. She loved the salty taste, and it was neat to tear at the tough flat strip with her teeth and pretend to be an Indian or a pioneer.
As she left the store, the label on a bottle caught her eye. A white horse. It made her think of Niall. Stupid brat. She kicked at a tuft of grass.
"Susannah!"
Susannah looked up. "Hi!" she said. And grinned.
"Hi," said Danielle.
Susannah and Danielle were best friends. Everyone knew it: the kids at school, Al, Mr. Gonzalez, even Niall. Danielle lived in the grey house across the corner from the store. Her house was plainer than Susannah's house, which was painted red and brown, but it had three stained glass windows.
"You going to the store?" Susannah asked.
Danielle shook her head. "Saw you from the window. Came to find you. My mom's at your house."
"Okay." They walked to Susannah's house. Celie sat on the porch beside Susannah's mother. She held Juanito on her lap.
"Hi, Sukie," Celie said.
"Hi," Susannah said. Danielle's mother made her feel shy, because she was beautiful. She was brown, and her hair was in tight shiny black curls all over her head. Danielle had hair like that too. Susannah's hair was brown and stringy. Sometimes she was jealous of Danielle's sleek curls. But not often, because it made her stomach ache to feel bad about her best friend.
Susannah climbed the steps and handed her mother the change. "Thank you, honey," her mother said. "Would you put the milk in the refrigerator, please?" She said to Celie, "The doctor told me last week—"
Danielle leaped up the steps past the two women. "Come on," she said over her shoulder.
In the kitchen, Susannah scowled. "All they ever talk about is babies!"
"My mom's just had a baby and yours is having one," Danielle said. "They don't talk about them when they aren't having them."
Opening the refrigerator, Susannah put the milk on the shelf. "That's true." But I'm sick of babies! she thought. First there was Niall, and now there'll be a new one.
They walked to the bedroom. "What's the baby's name gonna be?" Danielle asked.
"I don't know. How about Leia?" Danielle really liked Princess Leia. She had seen Star Wars six times. That was almost as many times as Niall had seen The Black Stallion.
"Naw. How about Luke Skywalker?"
"What if it's a girl? You can't name a girl Luke."
"Lulu," said Danielle. "Lulu Skywalker."
That was lame. They both laughed.
Outside the bedroom door, Susannah put a hand up. "Wait." She pushed the door slowly. Niall wasn't there. "It's okay—" she started to say, and stopped.
A pile of her favorite books—her books!—lay on the floor, all jumbled and open.
"Niall!" Susannah spun. But of course he was gone, probably giggling to himself under Mother and Daddy's big bed. "That brat!" Susannah knelt. Gently she closed each book. Then she carried them to the bookshelf and put each in its proper place. "I'd like to—to—" She couldn't think of anything she could do that would be horrible enough. She couldn't even go find him and scream at him, because she had vowed not to.
"Hey," said Danielle. "What're you doing tonight?"
Susannah shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'll paint."
Danielle grew serious. "Could I see the pictures when you finish?"
Susannah liked showing Danielle her pictures. She never said stupid stuff like "Why is the sky purple?" and she always knew what the picture was a picture of, even if it didn't come out.
"I'll try to bring them over," Susannah promised. She smiled, thinking of the little cakes of paint, like eggs, inside the new paint box.
CHAPTER 2But the pictures wouldn't come, even with the new paint box open on the living room floor beside her, its colors glowing.
"Make a picture of the rainbow," Mother said, looking at the blank paper over Susannah's shoulder.
Susannah shook her head. Her mother loved rainbows. But it was silly to paint a rainbow; they were always the same, in the same colors.
Wriggling a little, she stared at the paper. Dinner was over, but the house still smelled wonderful; it smelled of tomato and ground beef and onions and the spices that Mother had put in the spaghetti sauce. But even the good smells and the warmth in her stomach—two things that usually made Susannah feel as if she could do anything—were not helping her paint.
The TV blared gunfire from her parents' bedroom. Niall was watching some stupid show. Susannah scowled. She wanted to stomp down the hall and turn it off. It was distracting.
"Would you be more comfortable at the kitchen table?" Mother said. She knew something was wrong and was trying to help.
"No." Susannah wriggled closer to the paper, careful not to jog the water glass with her elbow. Niall had already knocked it over—accidentally on purpose—on his way to the TV.
She wanted to draw a picture of the silver horse. It was hard to draw from memory.
"You could draw Mr. D. Or Daddy's bus," her mother said.
Susannah wanted to scream. Leave me alone! She gripped her paintbrush hard. Shapes and colors squirmed inside her head. She saw the silver horse alive, not a toy, trotting through the city streets in the moonlight. Around him the city's skyscrapers made a big steel fence.
"Damn," she said very softly. She wasn't supposed to say that word. She dipped the paintbrush in the silver paint. I can draw the silver horse, she thought, I can!
But the paint dripped from the brush, speckling the paper. Susannah sat up and crumpled the paper into a ball. Her stomach had started to ache.
"Nooo!" Niall screamed from the bedroom. Mother had turned the TV off. She wanted him to go to bed. He didn't want to go; he never wanted to go to sleep no matter how tired he was. He came into the living room, yellow hair flying. He was wearing his blue pajamas with the horses on them.
"I want to stay up and see Daddy!" he yelled.
"No," Mother said. "He's driving late shift tonight."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Silver Horse by Elizabeth A. Lynn. Copyright © 1984 Elizabeth A. Lynn. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
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