Light & Shadow by Jimmy McHugh

The Horn
By Dan Leicht

Bored with nothing to do, he looked out the window. He noticed a goat licking the remnants of a spilled ice cream cone, the strawberry almost melted into the asphalt. A little girl cried at the display. How long had she been there? The goat had one knobby horn, on the left side of its head, which coiled around to where the tip pointed back into its skull. The poor thing, he thought, searching for scraps out there.

He closed the blinds, the darkness felt more comfortable, and decided to curb his boredom with something to eat. His fingers yanked down the skin on his face as he walked, his oily skin tugged at the packed bags under his eyes

“I’m the goat,” he proclaimed, rummaging through the bowl of fruit atop the refrigerator. “I’m the deformed goat searching for spilled ice cream. Licking sugar from the streets.” He wrapped his fingers around the stem of a banana and pulled down the browning yellow peel.He sloshed the mush from cheek to cheek as he chewed. He closed his eyes and daydreamed about being alone, his mind only knowing what he lived day to day. He’d been alone for the past three years, and before that his last relationship lasted only six months. He didn’t feel worth anyone’s time. His horn dug into his skull, itching as if only simple dandruff, unfortunately, it was an ache not so easily remedied.

It was eleven in the morning when he popped the cap off the first bottle of hard cider. He set the opener down, a wooden Tiki for a handle, with the stainless steel opener labeled Hawaii. He’d bought the opener at a souvenir shop when he made a trip to the island for his sister’s wedding. It was a beautiful wedding, and he could tell his sister and his new brother-in-law were truly in love, or as in love as people can be.

After ten minutes he set the empty brown bottle down on the counter. He opened another and sat down in his recliner, the one that used to rock back and forth in his parent’s sunroom for years. He took regular sips, trying to find the end of the bottle before he could realize what it was he was doing. He was trying to escape.

It wasn’t long until the third bottle was empty, then the fourth. He smiled every time he opened the refrigerator, the sight of the dwindling two six-packs looked like an eternity.
He scratched at where his horn parted his dark hair.
He took another sip of cider and rested the lifeless bottle down.
An hour went by as he rested, reclined in his chair, eyes closed as he snored heartily. He tried to mold his imagination, let it conquer a life he could only dream of.

“Honey,” said a woman’s voice. “Honey, wake up. You overslept.”
“Wha…”
A gentle hand nudged his shoulder.
“Come on. We have to be at my parents in two hours. I know how long you take to get ready.”
He rubbed his head and grew wide eyed.
“No horn,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“I don’t have a…” he looked around at his apartment, “never mind.”
The apartment was certainly his, but where he used to have posters on the walls were instead framed pieces of art. Watercolors of country-sides hung above the couch and along the walls leading up the stairs.
He walked over into the kitchen and put his hand in front of his eyes to shield from the blinding light. He began to close the blinds until she rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Leave them open,” she said. “I like the light.”
He smiled and took his leave to the bathroom to wash up for dinner.
As the room filled with steam he tried to think up a name for her.
He opened up the bathroom door and called down the stairs for her. “Julie. Julie, can you come here a moment?”
“What is it? I’m trying to get my earrings in, but I could really use the bathroom mirror. Are you almost finished?”
Steam escaped the bathroom as he opened the door, where he stood naked looking at her.
“Get dressed,” she said.
“I don’t know what to wear,” he replied, smiling.
She had a name. It was a simple thing, but she didn’t seem real without a name.

He opened his eyes and looked around. Above the couch was a movie poster promising the best action film in decades.

Another cap bounced along the counter top as he rested the Tiki in the drawer alongside a wooden spoon and a rubber spatula. The drink scratched his throat on the way down and turned his stomach. He placed the bottle on the counter and rushed to the sink where he spit up the half-digested banana.

The yellow slop slid closer and closer to the drain.

He scratched his head and felt his gnarled horn. He began to cry, weep, more of the banana rising up and splashing into the silver basin. His tears fell between gagging gasps for breath.

He breathed deeply, in and out, as he stared into the regret slipping further into the garbage disposal.

When his stomach felt at ease he turned to the refrigerator and opened the door, wincing at the sight of the full six pack he still had left. He closed the door, another cap fell to the counter, and he used the contents of the bottle to slide the remnants of his breakfast down the drain.

He opened the blinds and squinted at the light. He noticed the same little girl kneeling down with an apple, feeding the goat.

He itched his head and realized his horn was gone. He peered out the window, noticing the goat had a small pad of napkins resting under its horn, protecting its skull from the frequent itch it could never dream to satisfy.

About the author:

Dan Leicht, a writer from Rochester NY, often writes poetry as well as fiction, which can be found on his author site DanLeicht.com. Other than writing fiction Dan also works as a freelance writer, having written for South Wedge Quarterly and 585 Magazine. His writing has previously been published with Canto Magazine, Jigsaw Literary Magazine, Spillwords, and Work Literary Magazine. He has a Bachelor’s in English Creative Writing from The College at Brockport.

In the artist’s words:

Jimmy McHugh. Commercial & Travel Photographer with over 30 years of experience. A New York Fashion Photographer for many years with technical knowledge and experience. He has created his own artistic interpretation of life in his photographs. Taking photographs and turning them into an art form. He is a versatile photographer from models and actors portraits to the New York Fashion Shows, to his close-up shots of nature views, to the urban and architectural views of New York City. Sculptures in Italy, dams in Amsterdam and ocean views of Ireland. Jimmy has a keen eye for observing people and places. His knowledge of lighting skills allows him to capture everyday life and creating images and photographs that are one-of-kind. His photographs capture moments while documenting life around us.

Jimmy currently lives in Woodstock, New York.