Post by vonage! on Jul 30, 2009 23:30:49 GMT -5
scrawled;
el contabella
made;
femmora
lineage;
haflinger
times;
six summers
painted;
sorrel
standing;
fourteen hands, once inch
see through;
mahogany
tresses;
creamy
imperfections;
blaze; four stockings
class;
neutral
encounter me;
she is happy- among the happiest you may ever stumble across. she greets you kindly, with a charismatic smile emanating warmth. she speaks cryptically, she flirts, she impresses and entertains you with jokes and witticisms. you want to get to know her better, become her friend- attractive she is, in so many aspects. but, just as you feel what you think to be a relationship begin to found itself, her indifference becomes clear to you. she does not care for you any more than he who stands next to you; you are today's entertainment, and may be easily replaced. so she listened to your stories, so she sympathized with your troubles. you thought she really cared? you thought that she, ever contented, sought you as a filler for some gaping void in her heart? she is sorry that you have been so terribly mistaken.
such is the tale that she weaves- such is what you will believe.
anything to protect her delicate heart from the cold, unmerciful clutches of reality.
you shall not penetrate.
the story;
once, she was happy. she was young and beautiful. she flitted about, flaunting her feminine curvature and youthful charisma. and then, she met him. he was perfect. everything promised by the fairy stories whispered into the flicka's ear by her tender, caring mother: brave, gentlemanly, devastatingly handsome. she wanted him, and the day that he uttered his intentions to her was her life's triumph. swallowed by a sea of affection, she had left with him, abandoning all that she knew to live in the protection of his love. here, she was at her happiest- when she was with him, the long summer's days and inevitable wintry evenings seemed to disappear before her eyes. soon, she felt the flutter of life within her. overjoyed, she had informed her lover of her suspicions. sure enough, her belly grew swollen, and she knew that her assumptions had been correct- she would bear his foal.
the pregnancy passed slowly. she loved the baby as fiercely as she loved her kindred, and the day of the youth's arrival was anticipated with confident delight.
she was woken late in the night by a pain in her abdomen. joyful of the baby's coming, she passed almost immediately into a long, grueling period of labor. just as she had dreamed, the babe was born in the image of her mother- the only thing that was missing was a heartbeat. sobbing, the mare fell asleep to the soothing consolations of her mate as he proceeded to dispose of the body.
and, soon, she found herself abandoned. ashamed by her inability to bear him a living foal, he had gone. he left while she slept, sparing himself the pain of watching her suffer the wounds that he had dealt.
