LET ME LIVE THAT FANTASY


♕

Too captivated, absorbed, and entranced by the water’s clear edges and softened falls, she barely heard, noticed, or regarded anyone approaching – her hooves were like mighty swords, clattering and cutting through the swirl of tides. A swell of pride hit her in the chest as she surged upon the masses, laughing again when it whipped her back in the face, when it hit her feathers, when it assaulted her wings, chiming and echoing along the dunes, giggling by herself, thoroughly entertained. So when another’s voice cut through the crescendo (Hey!), she immediately ceased, head swiveling rapidly at the abrupt sound – finally noting the stranger in her midst.

She could’ve done one of several things, and her mind coiled, curled, contorted with all the potent thoughts. She could run, chased away from her amusement and diversions, flee like someone hunted, but it seemed cowardly, and she wasn’t meant to be a weakling, hastened to the shadows every time someone new crossed her path. She could poke out her tongue and make rude gestures, noises, because she thought it was funny and she wondered what he’d do in return, this small silver stallion (and mother wasn’t here to scold her, to shake her head, to frown). She settled on another one entirely though, for little Melita was made of sterner stuff, and likely in the future something would smack her, would drown her, would ruin her all the more for the level of impudence and defiance layered through her frame, but she didn’t care, didn’t know – she savored, she relished, she devoured every ounce of triumph she could claim.

The other returned fire, and therein catalyzed the audacity, the boldness, and the fervor within her. She laughed and giggled and screeched, rising on her hind hooves and striking at the air, at the water, altering her voice so it sounded deep and bellowing, like those mighty soldiers wandering around the place, like a battle-weary champion of the dust and sun. “I’m the all mighty Water Monster,” she proclaimed, pretending, attempting not to break character by fluttering in another whirl of delight and grandeur, opting for opulence and silliness again by a feral touch and ferocious, flying liquid galvanized by the waves, attempting to poorly drown her latest victim. “You cannot destroy me!” One leg drove through the water, breaking the surface and swirling through its forces rapidly, intending to lance a sheet of rain to descend upon her newest foe (friend, like Iskra, even without a name to his face).

Then, there seemed to be another hooking, snaring, snagging her attention, a shudder of movement and sound from along the shoreline. An unknown boy lingered there, bright ivory and crimson hues dotted along the embankment (she wanted to ask him if it was like blood, glorious and triumphant, stained from slaughtering his enemies), and she shouted against the current, intertwining her loud exuberance with her actual vocals, “Come join us!” in invitation, in exultance, in upheaval, forgoing the thoughts of holding back – forward, always onward into the skies and sea.