The Man With The Horseshoe

The Man with the Horseshoe - by Brent Nevy

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A tavern in Belgium bustled with life, and within this tavern were two men relevant to the plot of this story. "Ha!" exclaimed a rugged, blue-coated sailor with a jocular wail of excitement. He had just won a game of checkers against a red-coated man. For our purposes, the blue-coated man shall be dubbed as the man with the horseshoe. "I have the horseshoe," he proclaimed to the tavern. The other man opposite him, more muscular and adorned in a vibrant coat of vermillion, turned his head up slowly, proudly bringing forth an audible sentence amid the ruckus: "I am the man without the horseshoe." The man with the horseshoe looked sternly into the other man's eyes. "I suppose you are the antagonist," said the man with the horseshoe to the man without the horseshoe. "So I am," the man without the horseshoe replied back, "and you are my enemy, whose possession of the horseshoe I wish to challenge." Silent dread was conjured in the mind and heart of the sailor in blue. A terrifying thought arose in his mind, and he knew it was time. "With this horseshoe," he trembled, "I shall put it upon a horse, like a shoe...and trample you with ill-intent!"

The man without the horseshoe was taken aback, taking cover behind a chair besides their table. "You can't find me!" he cried out behind the stool. The bluecoat threw the chair back a few feet, revealing the redcoat's vulnerability. "What a cruel, malign world which I have lived in!" But a look of hesitation danced in the eyes of the man with the horseshoe, and it evolved into a look of mercy within a moment. "You solicit mercy from me," he explained to the redcoat, "and I shall henceforth demonstrate my clemency to you." The quivering look in the pupils of the eyes of the man of the lacking of the horseshoe oscillated slower now. "I thank you," the redcoat sighed in relief to the bluecoat, "and now I shall provide to you loaves of bread. You may consume them."

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As circumstances changed, there was still a steadfast resolution between the two; mercy in exchange for stale bread. And for seventeen moons, they were at peace. But by the time the eighteenth moon arrived, the man without the horseshoe had no more bread to give. The compromise would not last if he did not give the man with the horseshoe bread, but then again, the man without the horseshoe wouldn't have food to eat if they continued. That day, the two of them sat at a table one evening, discussing geopolitical issues occurring in Wales. The silhouette of a man riding horseback appeared upon the picturesque horizon. "Look at that silhouette of a man riding horseback appearing upon this picturesque horizon," said the man with the horseshoe to the man without the horseshoe. The silhouette grew in size until it had become a person right beside their table. "I am a cavalier wearing a gold scarf, and I possess a possession. I declare that the man without the horseshoe, hence lacking possession of the possession, is to possess said possession as his own...possession." Bemused by the thought of having something not had by the bluecoat, the redcoat spoke out loud: "I will possess this possession which you will me to possess. What is such an object worthy of my specificity?" The cavalier pulled out a horseshoe from his satchel. "Such is the possession which you are to possess." The redcoat's jaw dropped, and his eyes swerved between the hat and the cavalier. The bluecoat reflected this expression flawlessly onto his face as well; the cavalier, however, maintained his stern façade. He left as swiftly as he came on horseback. Turning to the blue-coated man, the red-coated man announced to the other: "We both now are of the fellowship of the horseshoe." "So we are," replied the blue-coated man. "Let us dig a dirt trench from the ground," suggested the blue-coated man, "so that people may fall into it and be displeased." "I concur," smiled the red-coated man, "so we shall."