Post by e v e b e l l e : : on Feb 1, 2007 3:01:05 GMT -5
I shook my nape, leaving the already fraying hair to dismay at the action, flying about my front like a halo. A halo, an ironic description. I was far from saintly, far from that halo. Though here it was; my knotted, twisted wreath around my head, symbolizing just how messed up I was. The curvature of my mind had almost no extent - one minute, I could be depressed beyond salvation, the next, giddy with the mock-emotion of happiness. They never lasted very long, however, so I often retreated to deeper thought of the future, which somehow becomes equally depressing, if you ponder on the subject too long. It's amazing, how something can doom itself, then scream to high heaven, wondering just exactly why it's life is going to hell. Sometimes I honestly don't get it. Instead I prefer to be manipulative. I like getting my way, I'm guarded like that. Many don't have the walls that you should aquire, they speak without thinking. The first thing my mother said to me, when I was fresh from the womb, was; "Dear daughter, you can give a horse anything; friendship, trust, love, but you are never, under any circumstance, to give them your power." She frequently repeated this, leaving me to etch the phrase into my head. Needless to say, the constant repeating of prose taught me differently. While other foals went to play, I stayed in the shade, contemplating words, evades. Learning different strategies to keeping my life hidden, secluded, and plotting out different lyrics - knowing that one day, it could, and probably would, be used against me.
But enough of that. My cranium lowered considerably, staring at the bleak dirt in front of me. Assortments of colors littered it, blending it with the earthy shades around me. Green was vacant, dismissed with the season - it wasn't required. The earth was going to renew itself, wether we liked it or not. The thought made an inevitable grin slip upon my coal maw, equally abyssful eyes searching the ground for some hidden meaning. Perhaps, the red, bloody shades of the leaves, symbolized something far deeper than the mind could possibly comprehend. I strained, listening intently for the words of the trees, which were shutting down their systems. But as if, in cold reply, I got the wind's shrill whistling against the sharp, twisted branch of a dulling tree. My dial shot up, not in surprise, but in sheer realization. Angst slipped through my veins like the blood that accompanied it. Why couldn't I just be somewhere else? Somewhere less secluded, perhaps? Not that I wanted some company, I suppose, a small part of me did, but that was not dominant. Right now my focuses were straying, and I needed to harness them, to rangle them right now, for fear of releasing something I didn't need to. My head shook once more, disheveling my finally placed hair into a pleasant source of disaray. Dagger, laced carefully with mud, hit the ground once, swiftly cutting into the dry dirt in which it was previously perched upon. With that, my legs took upon a mind of their own, losing the vast traces my brain had commanded them, and began moving. Moving so swiftly, they'd be but a small, quaint blur beneath my vision, reminding me once again that I was moving.
My swift gait subsided under a tree, hoof pricking something nastily awkward. Pain seared up through my tendrils, although not paralyzing me. It was a measured dose, just enough to remind me that I was still, very alive. My mind shot forward, three gears ahead of my physical self, contemplating the possible outcomes of this occasion. I could find a home, of course. That possibility frayed into more possibilities. The stallion could not have a mate, perhaps? Or he could. He could be a soft stallion, or rough and guarded, much like myself. He could be kind, he could be stiff. Perhaps a pansy? Or maybe a pleasant mixture of all? The complexity of the situation gave me a startle, though nothing that wasn't too anticipated. On the other hand, I could not find a home, and be forced to - regretably - wander along this lonely path through winter. If that were to happen, there were four possible outcomes. I'd live, I'd die, I'd become sick - which led to either death or life - or I could find a home. This, once again, opened quite a few more doors for me, relating back to the first possiblity. I suppose a third was I could die, through some freak accident, be force bred, and other such profanities, but my mind didn't dwell too long on that fact. Instead, I shook myself gently, once again causing dismay for my poor mane, watching the world around me. I was alone, I suppose. Alone, vulnerable - though in a physical sense. And in no was was I to fight. I was a lamb, small, shy, but graceful nonetheless.
The small black lamb.
But enough of that. My cranium lowered considerably, staring at the bleak dirt in front of me. Assortments of colors littered it, blending it with the earthy shades around me. Green was vacant, dismissed with the season - it wasn't required. The earth was going to renew itself, wether we liked it or not. The thought made an inevitable grin slip upon my coal maw, equally abyssful eyes searching the ground for some hidden meaning. Perhaps, the red, bloody shades of the leaves, symbolized something far deeper than the mind could possibly comprehend. I strained, listening intently for the words of the trees, which were shutting down their systems. But as if, in cold reply, I got the wind's shrill whistling against the sharp, twisted branch of a dulling tree. My dial shot up, not in surprise, but in sheer realization. Angst slipped through my veins like the blood that accompanied it. Why couldn't I just be somewhere else? Somewhere less secluded, perhaps? Not that I wanted some company, I suppose, a small part of me did, but that was not dominant. Right now my focuses were straying, and I needed to harness them, to rangle them right now, for fear of releasing something I didn't need to. My head shook once more, disheveling my finally placed hair into a pleasant source of disaray. Dagger, laced carefully with mud, hit the ground once, swiftly cutting into the dry dirt in which it was previously perched upon. With that, my legs took upon a mind of their own, losing the vast traces my brain had commanded them, and began moving. Moving so swiftly, they'd be but a small, quaint blur beneath my vision, reminding me once again that I was moving.
My swift gait subsided under a tree, hoof pricking something nastily awkward. Pain seared up through my tendrils, although not paralyzing me. It was a measured dose, just enough to remind me that I was still, very alive. My mind shot forward, three gears ahead of my physical self, contemplating the possible outcomes of this occasion. I could find a home, of course. That possibility frayed into more possibilities. The stallion could not have a mate, perhaps? Or he could. He could be a soft stallion, or rough and guarded, much like myself. He could be kind, he could be stiff. Perhaps a pansy? Or maybe a pleasant mixture of all? The complexity of the situation gave me a startle, though nothing that wasn't too anticipated. On the other hand, I could not find a home, and be forced to - regretably - wander along this lonely path through winter. If that were to happen, there were four possible outcomes. I'd live, I'd die, I'd become sick - which led to either death or life - or I could find a home. This, once again, opened quite a few more doors for me, relating back to the first possiblity. I suppose a third was I could die, through some freak accident, be force bred, and other such profanities, but my mind didn't dwell too long on that fact. Instead, I shook myself gently, once again causing dismay for my poor mane, watching the world around me. I was alone, I suppose. Alone, vulnerable - though in a physical sense. And in no was was I to fight. I was a lamb, small, shy, but graceful nonetheless.
The small black lamb.