Lake of Serenity
This land is closed. No herds can live here.
Here in my heart is the echo of all that I have lost, and all that I have gained.
IP: 143.238.145.115
Posted on December 3, 2006 at 02:48:48 AM by Anica
ANICA
Anica
White Hanoverian Mare
3
Calls The Lake of Serenity her home
Is loved by none
Calls none her children
So you think you’re strong. So did Anica, as a strapping yearling, all legs and tendons and fire. So maybe she was a mare. Weaker physically, not as strong as her male year mates. But not weaker in spirit. Not, at least, until she was noticed.
No. Nobody could understand the horror she had faced at the hands of man-kind. No one would understand the mental stress, the pain, the humiliation. No one.
And she had fought, of course she had, at first. But she was a survivor. So she had stopped fighting, and she had waiting, thinking that they had not broken her.
Not until Beqanna had she realized how much they had.
Perhaps others had fought harder, longer. But they also had died, or were wounded beyond repair. Not Anica. She had survived.
But that was the past. Now it was the present which fascinated her. She watched, intrigued by the slow drip an drizzle of the cold water from his muzzle as his head rose. But he didn’t look at her, he looked instead to the other bank, worry suddenly in his eyes.
Another mare? Anica knew that he would have another. Though the knowledge gave her no pleasure. One day, perhaps, when her wounds had healed, she would have smiled in that knowledge. But another presence was also uncharted territory. A possible threat to her solitude. Would the other like her?
Anica desperately wanted to be liked, loved. Not because of her own insecurities, but for the sweet nature that ran through her veins, begging kindness from all those around her. Because how could she be Anica if she had to hide away from those around her?
Anica caught the rapid sadness and its just as rapid retreat. But she was not fooled. He worried for this mare. This Muirnin. That, more than anything else, settled her racing pulse. If her cared for her. So to would Anica. This stallion and she were too alike for there to be any differences in their tastes for company.
Then he asked her a very amusing question. Amusing at least, in her eyes.
She smiled delightedly.
“But surely you know,” she said on a laughing note, “how terribly shy I am of others.”
Her smile faded, but the light still danced in her warm eyes, “It’s your Kingdom. You’re call.”
Don’t push me.
Don’t touch me.
I’m not part of your collection.
I’m just forgetting you.
Would you know me?
If you met my eyes
Would you remember?
If came to you and cried.
I could be your reflection.
And still you wouldn’t see.
I have no compassion left for you,
If you can’t remember me.
I’m that shadow,
In the corner of your eye.
By the time you look.
I’ve already said goodbye.
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