Almost scary stories

That horse was there again. It was a beautiful pony. Always by the river looking like he just came from a swim. I want to pet him. I always have. But one of my brothers always hold me back but now they're not here. Slowly, I tiptoe closer to him. I can't see their problem. It's not like it's going to eat me. Calmly I place my hand on his flank. It's wet and slippery, like a seals. It's also sticky. To sticky. Alarmed I try to pull my hand back. But it's to late. To late to notice that instead of hair it's seaweed. To late to notice the horses split pupils. To late to call for help. It was already dragging me under, drowning me. It was to late to fight.