Reach- Flash fiction story

By Richard McPherson

The streets were empty, this was my chance. I rushed over to the base of the statue. It was bigger than I realised, and the recent rainfall wasn’t going to make this any easier. 

I wiped down parts of the statue’s bronze mosaic façade to get some purchase to climb. The various military men would hopefully be enough to give me a boost to the base of the plinth.
Wiping my hands on my jeans I started the climb. I couldn’t help but give out a little grunt as I pull myself up on to the plinth beside the bronze horse, the only other sounds being the drunken shouts in the next street over. 

I reached up but the cone was still just out of reach, I would need to climb up a little further. Using the stirrups I swung my leg over onto the horse, sitting behind the rider, Arthur Wellesley, holding on to his waist to stop myself from sliding off completely. 

I reached up to grab the cone when suddenly, with a jerking motion, the bronze horse bucked. It took all I had not to fall off, my grip on the rider’s waist getting tighter. There was a scraping metallic sound, and the head of the rider turned round to look at me directly. I released my grip and slipped from the horse down on to the plinth and then down to the pavement, breaking into a sprint.
Looking back over my shoulder I could see the rider return to his usual position atop his plinth, cone resting neatly atop his head as if nothing had happened.