Matt Ferraz [Ferraz - The Horse and Mr Hyde

The Horse and Mr Hyde

A Black Beauty short story

By Matt Ferraz

Based on characters created by
Anna Sewell
and Robert Louis Stevenson

First edition, published in 2019

All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted, except with express prior written permission. Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living, dead or living dead, is purely coincidental.

The characters of Black Beauty, created by Anne Sewell (1820 - 1878), and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, created by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 - 1894), as well as their supporting characters, are all under Public Domain, therefore their use in this work does not infringe Copyright laws.

Edited by Makenzi Crouch

To Rosana

Who sees things differently

Its not always easy for a horse to comprehend human matters, even though we are always around them. When we think we know how their minds work and the ways they live, something happens that defies our notions. People think horses are stupid creatures, and that we cant judge them from where we stand. But they are wrong.

By the time this story happened, I had been pulling a cab through the streets of London for less than a year and still had much to learn. Not a week passed without a drunken passenger or something worse. This case, however, was special. I decided to leave it out of my autobiography because of how disturbing it was. Still, it has never left my mind, so I might as well tell it to you.

My master was a man named Jerry Barker, the finest and most gentle cab driver in all of London. He was a family man who never mistreated a horse in his life. He never told a lie, either, and would never promise to deliver a passenger to his destination faster than usual, no matter how much money they offered him.

This behaviour made Jerry a bit of a joke amongst his fellow cabbies. They told him he would never get rich that way. Most of them would whip their horses with fury to do the trip in half the time in order to make an extra shilling. Jerry, however, was more interested in establishing confidence with the animal he was working with than pleasing a passenger he was never going to see again.

I had heard humans talking about things that were happening in the London fog during the night. Sometimes they would talk around me when Jerry was taking a minute of rest; other times the passengers themselves would be discussing their matters as I pulled the cab. It was impossible not to hear them, and what they said wasnt always pleasant.

We took fewer passengers those days, for it was very dark and people seemed afraid to go out. One night two weeks before the focus of this narrative we picked up two men in front of an office building in the City; one of them was nearly yelling as he spoke.

This is exactly how it happened! he said. I was walking down that street, about three oclock of a black winter morning. A girl of about 8 years was running down the street as fast as she could. A man came in the other direction, from around the corner. He was a short, despicable man. I cant even describe him. He trampled calmly over her body and left her screaming.

Good heavens, Enfield! said the other man. Have you told this to

I intend to tell him soon enough. Anyway

At that point, we arrived at the gentlemens destination. They paid Jerry and went on their way, leaving me without the rest of the story.

Curiosity isnt a common trait amongst horses, but I wish they had decided to ride a little further so I could have heard what happened to the child. It has always puzzled me how humans are able to do something like that to each other. The idea that a man would do something like that to someone of his own kind, especially a child, scared me.

As I said, London was a dangerous place during those nights. If Jerry had had a choice, Im sure he would have worked during the day and spent the night in his own bed, but he wasnt the one who made his schedule, and he had a family to support.

One evening, we were getting ready to go out, when a boy came to our stable.

Mr Barker! said the boy, taking a second to catch his breath. I was told to bring a message to Mr Jerry Barker!

Easy there, lad! said Jerry. What message is that?

Its from Mr Gustafson, said the boy. He runs a cab at the same

I know Mitch Gustafson, interrupted Jerry. What does he want from me?

He took a job at Kensington, but his horse is sick, said the boy. A very important client, Dr Henry Jekyll. Mr Gustafson was supposed to pick him up half an hour from now. He says he cant let Jekyll down, so he asked me to send you there. With that, the boy pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Jerry.

What do you say, Jack? said Jerry, after the boy went away. He had called me by that name since he bought me. Ive heard about this Dr Jekyll. Hes supposed to be a great philanthropist. We do a good job and we might get ourselves a regular client.

I pawed the ground in accordance. Jerry smiled, put the piece of paper into his pocket and so we went on our way. It seemed to be a normal evening, except for the fog, which was thicker than usual. Jerry guided me carefully through the streets, for he knew it would be his responsibility if an accident happened.

Once we were on our way, that gruesome story came back to my mind: the one I had never finished hearing, about the girl and the despicable little man on that dark street. Call it animal intuition if you will, but the streets of Kensington, where I had been a thousand times before, started to feel unpleasant to me. If any other person had been at the reins, I would have found a way of not going to that address. But I would never disappoint Jerry, and so I continued.

We stopped in front of a big house, like many in the square. There was no one waiting for us, so Jerry went to the front door and lifted the knocker. An old butler opened it for him. There wasnt a living soul in the streets, and the wind was light, so I could hear every word they said.

I was told to pick up Dr Henry Jekyll at this address, said Jerry.

Im sorry, sir, said the butler. There must be some mistake. Dr Jekyll isnt at home right now.

He does live here, doesnt he? asked Jerry.

Yes, said the butler. Perhaps its Mr Hyde youre looking for. Mr Edward Hyde. Hes Dr Jekylls protg.

Is Mr Hyde in? asked Jerry.

The butler took a moment to answer. Mr Hyde comes and goes in the house. He has a room in the back, next to the lab. You might want to go around the side and see if hes there.

What, he cant come here?

Im afraid not, said the butler. Mr Hyde only uses the back door. Im not supposed to disturb him. You can ring the bell and if hes interested, hell show up. Im aware its an odd situation, but the master ordered it that way.

Jerry came back to the cab, pulling his cap off to scratch his head. Ill never understand rich people, he said. Lets go around, Jack. With some luck, our client will be waiting for us at the next door.

We were about to head on our way when someone called out from behind us. You! Hey, you, cabbie!

The sound of that voice almost made me bolt, taking my master with me. It might have been better that way. How can I describe the effect of the way that man said those words? Was it just evil? Id seen a lot of cruelty growing up, towards both man and animal. And yet, it wasnt just that that made me so uneasy. It was the voice of someone who was less than a man, a creature that nature hadnt finished making and yet had been put into this world.