Post by Fiction on Oct 27, 2006 22:29:40 GMT -5
If I were truly a prince from some fairy tale
A wind lashed against Fiction’s broad forehead, tearing back the curtain of his silvery forelock to reveal deep eyes that were a darker shade of the falling leaves around him. Lids lowered in response, wincing slightly against the wind’s anger. His auds were laced to his skull, pressed there in an attempt to escape the deceitful whisperings of breeze that demanded his attention. Still, he strove to ignore their pleas, flints pounding rhythmically upon the terra in the balanced cadence of a trot. His hooves battled for authority over the earth, struggling obstinately to stay their current course while the wind’s anger increased in a fierce gust, slamming against the stallion’s stalwart chest. Breath was temporarily snatched from the stallion’s lungs so that his muscles begged him to come to a gentle halt. He stood there, bewildered by the wind’s requests, now offering his full attention so that they might torture him no longer. The spirits of wind tugged at his mane, crying out for him to follow their direction. They touched against his side, brushing his fur with gentle fingers, begging, desperately pleading for him to answer their calling. Without further resistance to their taunting temptations, his movements shifted degrees so that Fiction now followed the course of the wind. The currents were pleased at his decision, holding him in a wispy embrace and pressing him on from all sides. The anger that had once been present had passed so that now the winds played and frolicked about his phantom form, rolling into the thick tassels of his mane, hopelessly weaving the strands together into intricate tangles. They urged him on, pushing against his back so that he felt as if some part of him could have been floating on the weight of those winds, drug along in a direction he did not care to comprehend. He simply did as the winds asked, trusting his fate to the elements as his flints dug into the withering blades of grass that lay scattered across the lithosphere.
Trees glared at him, naked of leaves that had offered them the life of spring and summer, their gnarled fingers reaching out desperately in all directions without hope of protection through the coming winter. The leaves that had once been born of those trees left their parents, offering farewells as they drifted endlessly to their deaths. Coming death was everywhere; scattered about the ground like a tapestry, giving the scene the appearance of a graveyard, present in the wind that whispered teasingly in his flickering auds for him to hurry onward to some unknown destination. They mocked him in his misery as he skirted effortlessly over the earth with wearied limbs. Their laughter surrounded him like a frigid blanket, dousing him in humiliation of his failure to succeed at life. They entered his tortured mind, hilarity ringing through the depths of his soul, testing the doors he held closed in a frantic effort to save himself from the torrent of his emotions. A jagged breath was emitted as they succeeded in touching upon the memories of his past and he found himself coming to an abrupt, impulsive halt, the wind shocked by his sudden cease in motion so that it slammed inadvertently against his side. He was buffeted by the wind, rocked violently by its motion until it was stilled into a curious milling about him. He became oblivious to everything as his lids lowered slowly over dark chocolate orbs, lost in the dark depths of his mind that reached out to his very soul, seeking to bring him down into the depths of the abyss. Mi amada. Lorena. The perplexed wind slowly rose again, circling him softly with near indignance that such a thing could still the sturdy stallion and shake him to his core. The curiosity was still a present force, though, and it brought him to an explanation. Ella fue mi amada. Perro yo la perdí. The wind was puzzled by this, too, so that it increased in intensity until gusts were again pummeling against him, commanding that he continue his movements. I let her go and she left me. I lost her. Oh, how I miss her… The wind took his proffered words, spinning them into the atmosphere so that they were removed from his tongue forever. A broken sigh was released from quivering nostrils as he lowered his velvety muzzle to the earth in dejection, filled with such depressed emotion that he imagined he could feel the resistance in the wind. Still, though, the winds seemed to clasp about his figure, even in his gloom, wrapping him in an arbitrary pattern. He would have liked to think that his friend, the wind, could take this pain from him; that he could simply lose all thoughts of sorrow into the whimsical, ever-changing winds, but he could not. Nothing was fictitious in this world of his, there was only harsh reality.
He began moving again, much to the appeasement of the wind. The currents appeared anxious now as they pressed against his flanks, offering him their support even though the coolness of the breeze was sinking deeply into the marrow of his bones, chilling him so that he nearly trembled in response. He felt lost; without direction. Still, the wind pressed harder against him, pleading for him to continue, to trust. How was he supposed to trust when so many had let him down before? How was he supposed to keep believing that this life had good things in it even when all the residents rejected him? He felt like a monster that didn’t belong, that would be better off dead at the hands of one of the many stallions he had battled than wandering along here aimlessly, alone, shivering weakly in response to the elements that were now rejecting him as well. But the wind had not left him; no, it was too determined to allow him to shove it away. The wind’s purposes were too mysterious to be captured and thrown away. So here Fiction trudged, all purpose having fled his path as his hooves were forced to maintain motion. Soy un idiota. Lo siento todos. Soy un fracaso. His thoughts were directed at nothing in particular, only founded in his mulling over how he had erred in the past. How he had erred her. Lo siento Lorena, le fallé. Immediately he altered the course of his contemplation, head dipping lower towards the earth, knowing what bouts of horrific depression generally swept over his mind when he allowed his thoughts to carry in that direction. The wind cursed him now for his stupidity of dwelling on the past, and perhaps he cursed himself as well. The past was the past, why could he simply not forget it? But he could not; there was no way of erasing the poison that had infected his mind. The venom would eventually overpower all rational thoughts, burying him in that swarthy darkness from which he could not emerge. Unless he found someone who could help. Still, that flickering flame of hope was dying to a mere glowing ember, and he doubted he could find any who might light that fire again. He was nearing the close of his life. He wished to surrender his corpse to the elements. Maybe he would give it one last try, perhaps he would offer one more creature the opportunity to not betray or reject him. Was love so much of a thing to ask? Sí, sí lo es.
The salty tang of ocean air invaded his senses, drawing his attention to his surroundings. Where had the wind deigned to bring him? It was strong now, whirling in all directions with a hint of pride. Movements increased as dubious interest was piqued, auds pricking forwards to catch the sound of waves as they crashed relentlessly against a wall of rocks. He was cantering now, pace increasing significantly as he stretched his stilts to fly over turf that had somehow managed to retain the emerald green of liveliness. He raced against the wind now and it breathed laughter at his sudden burst of energy, ripping through his mane and tail, sending tendrils waving like silver banners behind him. His head lifted to greet the sky he had ignored until now, eyes scanning a horizon the color of lazuli that was lined with whiskers of heavenly clouds. He focused on the pulse of the earth beneath his swift form as talons battered the terra, clamoring now as hard rock began to reveal itself. The dead end was approaching, the wind warned him, and he saw the inviting edge that dropped off into oblivion. Shoulders heaved as he stretched forward, speed edging on a flighty gallop that was speeding him closer to his target. He felt like he might fly off the edge of that cliff, sprout wings like Pegasus himself and lift into that boundless sky with angry ocean waves pounding below. For once, the emotion of happiness swelled within him as he approached the ledge, appendages a mere blur, neck straining with effort as he drove forward. The wind danced in his face, filling his body, roiling along with his movements as he strove to burst as Icarus himself into the sky with a flurry of invisible wings. But then, just as Icarus, he knew he would eventually fall. Fiction began the act of slowing, steadily leaning backwards so that his balance was placed on his haunches as he skidded closer and closer to the looming ledge. Just when it seemed as if he would be sent careening off the edge of that cliff to be at the mercy of waves and rocks below, he lifted himself into the air, hind hooves firmly placed upon the ground as his front legs pawed the air, dangling precariously over the edge. His neck was proudly arched in the image of his Spanish heritage, a web of veins exposed above the bulge of powerful muscles, danger sparking angrily in muddied optics. He swiveled on hind legs, glancing smugly down at the rocky shore beneath before his front legs slammed down firmly against the ground. He stood there for a moment, breaths coming heavy as the sheen of sweat shimmered across his body. The sun chose that moment to emerge from where it had previously been hiding, peeking out to offer beams of divine light that pressed upon his alabaster form so that he shone like one of the gods. The light caught treacherously in his eye, illuminating their marble depths so that he looked eerie and possessed. Perhaps he was possessed at that moment. A smile touched the corners of his lips as his head turned to face the new direction of wind that shifted uneasily around him. The mane that was now resting carelessly about his curvature was lifted by the current, drawn through the tatters of his precarious mind in a soothing manner. He permitted it to ease him, to sift through his thoughts until one impulse remained. To rule. This was his last, dying chance. This land called to him, whispered promises of acceptance in his ear that he knew could be kept. He could trust this land, for Mother Earth did not lie, even if her produce did. This was to be his new home. Standing there like a god on the brink of destruction, his deep lyrics carried out in all directions, speaking to the sea and to the earth, addressing his new home. Let it be known that this land is now mine and mine alone. If any dare to try and snatch this piece of comfort from me, may they meet the wrath of my hooves. A sort of half smile breached the soberness of his words even though his eyes remained as stolid as the rocks that contrived the walls he now stood upon. Gracias, los vientos.
I would have saved you long ago.
Translations:
Mi amada. Lorena.
--> My beloved. Lorena.
Ella fue mi amada. Perro yo la perdí.
--> She was my beloved. But I lost her.
Soy un idiota. Lo siento todos. Soy un fracaso.
--> I am an idiot. I am sorry everyone. I am a failure.
Lo siento Lorena, le fallé.
--> I am sorry Lorena, I have failed you.
Sí, sí lo es.
--> Yes, yes it is.
Gracias, los vientos.
--> Thank you, winds.
Mi amada. Lorena.
--> My beloved. Lorena.
Ella fue mi amada. Perro yo la perdí.
--> She was my beloved. But I lost her.
Soy un idiota. Lo siento todos. Soy un fracaso.
--> I am an idiot. I am sorry everyone. I am a failure.
Lo siento Lorena, le fallé.
--> I am sorry Lorena, I have failed you.
Sí, sí lo es.
--> Yes, yes it is.
Gracias, los vientos.
--> Thank you, winds.
