.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
11-18-2013, 08:05 PM
I remember him very well.
I remember him standing on a hill with his army gathered around him – and only his army. I remember the steady beat of wings, and her high-pitched, murderous little giggles. It was that I remembered the most, her giggles, her little-girl laughter (oh, we will have so much fun!) and how she was the only friend I ever had in that forsaken place.
I remember the thrill of adrenaline, and the chase, and the mad flight through the dark.
The hiss of scales…
They were gathered and there was talk of war and peace and so much – friendships and alliances. It’s refreshing after the madness that was there, the deadness of it, to find these horses gathered, talking plans, the dissension in their ranks, even.
I was not one of them. Maybe one day I would be.
Maybe one day the sun would rise in a shower of gold, but I knew it would not happen. I knew very well that I would never, ever belong anywhere and yet I watched them from my distance, their arguments about allegiance and the like, such trivial, normal affairs, after everything. Or, at least, they seem normal. Not being one of them, I could not possibly know. Certainly they have their own tragedies and dramas and there seemed to be signs of dissension among the ranks, but goodness knew about what.
Maybe one day I would know.
But then, probably not.
I watched them from a distance, close enough to be seen – I was invited to rest, not exactly to join them – but far enough to only hear snatches of conversation here and there. Gaucho was among them, which was nice, and so was Onni, the only two of them I knew and could – I thought – somewhat trust, so I watched them the most.
I remember him standing on a hill with his army gathered around him – and only his army. I remember the steady beat of wings, and her high-pitched, murderous little giggles. It was that I remembered the most, her giggles, her little-girl laughter (oh, we will have so much fun!) and how she was the only friend I ever had in that forsaken place.
I remember the thrill of adrenaline, and the chase, and the mad flight through the dark.
The hiss of scales…
*
They were gathered and there was talk of war and peace and so much – friendships and alliances. It’s refreshing after the madness that was there, the deadness of it, to find these horses gathered, talking plans, the dissension in their ranks, even.
I was not one of them. Maybe one day I would be.
Maybe one day the sun would rise in a shower of gold, but I knew it would not happen. I knew very well that I would never, ever belong anywhere and yet I watched them from my distance, their arguments about allegiance and the like, such trivial, normal affairs, after everything. Or, at least, they seem normal. Not being one of them, I could not possibly know. Certainly they have their own tragedies and dramas and there seemed to be signs of dissension among the ranks, but goodness knew about what.
Maybe one day I would know.
But then, probably not.
I watched them from a distance, close enough to be seen – I was invited to rest, not exactly to join them – but far enough to only hear snatches of conversation here and there. Gaucho was among them, which was nice, and so was Onni, the only two of them I knew and could – I thought – somewhat trust, so I watched them the most.
Meraki.
“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.”
— T. S. Eliot
