Don't you feel lonely living in your own little world?
Below the blackened waves are merciless. They churn angrily as the water is thrown at the cliffside. Loosened stones rattle as they fall into the sea, chipped away by the force exerted upon its face. Staring into its depths my hooves caress the edge of the world. My very presence there is a temptation to fate. Yet, I am not afraid. All around me the illusion of stone walls brings me comfort. Jagged towers of moss-covered cliffs cut through the mist that hug the many contours of the land. For a moment, it’s as if I am carved from the surrounding scenery. Petite and lithe, my figure is barely indiscernible. Seemingly carved from stone, I imagine that I am as ageless as the land. Emotion swells within me like the sea, dangerous and tempestuous. Like raindrops upon stone, tears stain my striped face - finalizing my camouflage.
A flock of birds erupts in a frenzy of flight, their shadows large upon the dark water below. Harsh and unpleasant, their cries carried themselves upon the wind to assault my ears. Unlike the melodious tunes of many other birds, these were more akin to that of a scream. Loud and intense its sound resonates within my core. White crisp feathers glue themselves to my attention, my emerald gaze following them until they disappear beyond the horizon. My ears remain pricked forward, even after the sight of them is lost. For a moment I imagine that wings sprout from my back, powerful and capable of carrying me away. The sensation of flight is one I can only dream about. Though I'd heard of such flighted equines existing, I'd yet to lay eyes upon such a concoction. Bound to the land, I was forever forced to live within the confines of my mind.
I was once a child of the desert. Born amongst the prickly thrones of cacti and made strong upon an unforgiving land. Dry earth prevented most from being able to prosper there, but I had persevered. Trapped within a prison of wrought iron I had been kept from losing myself to its viciousness. My father had been named regent there. A title that afforded comfort while inspiring a deep sense of rejection. A sentence worse than death by his own description. The farthest outlying district under the Emperor's rule, our family was not truly welcome at court. My birth had provided him with hope. Hope that he could escape the padded prison cell he had been forced to occupy. Without blinking he had traded my life for a place at the Emperor's side. The man I had regarded with love and affection, who had showered me in every resource afforded to him, had not raised a single complaint when my execution was decided. My life not worth more to him than the approval of the High Court.
I thought about that moment often. When the city bells rang for days on end, their ominous sound detailing that change was on the horizon. The Emperor was dead, found lifeless in his bedsheets. Chaos permeated the palace halls as sobs echoed through its Sanctuary. Having lived amongst the deceased king's many wives and concubines, I stood in complete silence. I could not tell whether they cried for his fate or the knowledge of theirs. Repeatedly the vows I took on my wedding day echoed through my mind. They were absolute - unavoidable. In life and death, our service was to be for the Emperor's use. His light had faded, and now ours would be extinguished so that our souls could be rejoined with his. At only three years of age, I would not see another spring's thaw. My death sentence was secured, and, even then, I had not been afraid.
All consumed, my past felt more fitting of another of more advanced age. I did not feel saddened by the many twists and turns I'd endured, rather I felt detached. The reality I now faced as foreign to me as the boiling sea below. Clouds gathered upon the horizon, casting a long shadow upon the water. Watching as it slowly overtook the blue of the sky, I am unaware of the stallion carried upon the wind. His eyes upon me are nothing but the strokes of wind billowing through my mane. There is no hiding from his questioning gaze by the time his voice wafts into the softness of my lobes. Jolted back to reality, I sidestep away from the ledge and turn my body to consider the winged intruder. Emeralds lock onto his lean frame and my breath is stolen.
Despite the feathers that cling to his sleek frame, there is an unnamed air of familiarity that reaches towards me. Joined by the salty air, the scent of heat and cactus blossoms fills my nostrils. It is rich and bold - like the desert plains. At one time I might have bathed in the same perfume, but years of life in the city have rid me of such nuances. A forgotten face to the land I had once revered. Now a stranger to its eyes as well as the eyes of the stallion stood before me.
Only as silence stretches between us do I remember the warning he had extended to me. Strange amidst the darkness of my thoughts, my mind balks against it. Should I be afraid, I contemplate with a furrowed brow. Perhaps I was foolish not to heed his warning. As if I hoped to bring him some form of comfort, I took a step towards him - the movement feeling more dangerous to me than that of the ledge.
"I do not fear death," I say despite my hesitance to pull away from it. I'd escaped the grave more times than I cared to recount. In many ways, I felt marked by its cold breath. Death seemed to ride upon my back - having already taken my mother away from me. I had not even the time to learn her name before her final breath escaped past her lips. Though he might not believe it, life was not yet ready to be rid of me.
A flock of birds erupts in a frenzy of flight, their shadows large upon the dark water below. Harsh and unpleasant, their cries carried themselves upon the wind to assault my ears. Unlike the melodious tunes of many other birds, these were more akin to that of a scream. Loud and intense its sound resonates within my core. White crisp feathers glue themselves to my attention, my emerald gaze following them until they disappear beyond the horizon. My ears remain pricked forward, even after the sight of them is lost. For a moment I imagine that wings sprout from my back, powerful and capable of carrying me away. The sensation of flight is one I can only dream about. Though I'd heard of such flighted equines existing, I'd yet to lay eyes upon such a concoction. Bound to the land, I was forever forced to live within the confines of my mind.
I was once a child of the desert. Born amongst the prickly thrones of cacti and made strong upon an unforgiving land. Dry earth prevented most from being able to prosper there, but I had persevered. Trapped within a prison of wrought iron I had been kept from losing myself to its viciousness. My father had been named regent there. A title that afforded comfort while inspiring a deep sense of rejection. A sentence worse than death by his own description. The farthest outlying district under the Emperor's rule, our family was not truly welcome at court. My birth had provided him with hope. Hope that he could escape the padded prison cell he had been forced to occupy. Without blinking he had traded my life for a place at the Emperor's side. The man I had regarded with love and affection, who had showered me in every resource afforded to him, had not raised a single complaint when my execution was decided. My life not worth more to him than the approval of the High Court.
I thought about that moment often. When the city bells rang for days on end, their ominous sound detailing that change was on the horizon. The Emperor was dead, found lifeless in his bedsheets. Chaos permeated the palace halls as sobs echoed through its Sanctuary. Having lived amongst the deceased king's many wives and concubines, I stood in complete silence. I could not tell whether they cried for his fate or the knowledge of theirs. Repeatedly the vows I took on my wedding day echoed through my mind. They were absolute - unavoidable. In life and death, our service was to be for the Emperor's use. His light had faded, and now ours would be extinguished so that our souls could be rejoined with his. At only three years of age, I would not see another spring's thaw. My death sentence was secured, and, even then, I had not been afraid.
All consumed, my past felt more fitting of another of more advanced age. I did not feel saddened by the many twists and turns I'd endured, rather I felt detached. The reality I now faced as foreign to me as the boiling sea below. Clouds gathered upon the horizon, casting a long shadow upon the water. Watching as it slowly overtook the blue of the sky, I am unaware of the stallion carried upon the wind. His eyes upon me are nothing but the strokes of wind billowing through my mane. There is no hiding from his questioning gaze by the time his voice wafts into the softness of my lobes. Jolted back to reality, I sidestep away from the ledge and turn my body to consider the winged intruder. Emeralds lock onto his lean frame and my breath is stolen.
Despite the feathers that cling to his sleek frame, there is an unnamed air of familiarity that reaches towards me. Joined by the salty air, the scent of heat and cactus blossoms fills my nostrils. It is rich and bold - like the desert plains. At one time I might have bathed in the same perfume, but years of life in the city have rid me of such nuances. A forgotten face to the land I had once revered. Now a stranger to its eyes as well as the eyes of the stallion stood before me.
Only as silence stretches between us do I remember the warning he had extended to me. Strange amidst the darkness of my thoughts, my mind balks against it. Should I be afraid, I contemplate with a furrowed brow. Perhaps I was foolish not to heed his warning. As if I hoped to bring him some form of comfort, I took a step towards him - the movement feeling more dangerous to me than that of the ledge.
"I do not fear death," I say despite my hesitance to pull away from it. I'd escaped the grave more times than I cared to recount. In many ways, I felt marked by its cold breath. Death seemed to ride upon my back - having already taken my mother away from me. I had not even the time to learn her name before her final breath escaped past her lips. Though he might not believe it, life was not yet ready to be rid of me.
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