08-18-2017, 09:52 PM
When you are born, you have the whole world sprawled out in front of you. The outcome of your life in unpredictable; the rest of your life is just a mystery. Your entire life in measured in trials and tribulations, and it is how you act upon those that reflects who you really are. The game of life is a terrifying one; as a child, you think everyone to be good, you think everyone to be kind and loving...you think everyone to be happy.
As it turns out, not many of us are.
These thoughts rolled over in Chrisma's head as she stood at the edge of the sea, water lapping over her fetlocks, sand clinging to the crimson fur. The seagulls were quiet this afternoon, and the ocean stayed peaceful. The sky was smoky, and the sun's rays barely peaked out from the clouds. She inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill her lungs.
The fiery mare found herself more and more often watching the sea, contemplating life and death and everything in between. She watched the whales come up for breath in the distance, she observed the dolphins jumping up from beneath the water - all of these kept her mind at ease...it was a certain type of therapy, if you will.
Being alone had become comforting to her. What was once a time for her to fester in her depression had become a time for her to relax, to reflect. While the sadness still ached in her bones, she found herself coping with it much better than she had before. And while she had yet to find someone to be around that comforted her in the way she believed her child would have, she tried her best to keep her mind positive - it was the only way for her not to go mad.
The splashing is what immediately caught her attention. She turned her head, peering out from beneath her thick layer of forelock to see who was approaching.
Around the curve of the beach, two figures appeared - a deep dun with two stunning white wings and a child the color of snow. The foal splashed around in the water, playing gleefully as children often do. His mother gazed at him lovingly, keeping a close eye on the exuberant colt.
Chrisma stared, and a familiar twinge began to ache in her bones. An image burned in her mind, something she could not get rid of...her scarlet child, ebony wings still clinging to his sides. Still. Motionless.
Dead.
She had always wondered how Astelledon would act - who he would become, what he would do with his life. She would teach him to fly and play with him when he learned to use his wobbly legs. She would feed him and protect him with her life.
As she grew older, the ache continued to resonate - she wanted, more than anything, to be a mother.
Chrisma turned her head back to the sea, taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself. She did not want to frighten the child, or anger the mother, with her own demons. She just needed to ease her saddened heart.
You're not a victim, are you?