Adiemus

Greed. It is often seen as one of the seven deadly sins. The desire for power and wealth is so strong that some allow it consume everything they once knew. That is, until one day they are left with nothing of true value. Even then, do they truly realize the consequences? My father left this world with nothing but his name. He had no legacy, no more power, and no more wealth. At the time of his death, he was simply gone. Many attended his funeral, but many did not care. For all they saw was the potential to take all he had owned. All that they had taken from his life was greed.

"But, Grandma didn't he raise some of the best race horses in the country?" Blue eyes peered eagerly over the bed as a little hand touched my own aged hand. I nodded with a smile.

"He did grand things in the eyes of the public, and you might wonder how greed a horses can even exist in the same scenario." The little boys eyes flickered with curiosity. Gently, I brushed a section of my white curly hair behind my ear, smiled and took a deep breath. "Let me take you back to the day I met the most magical horse there ever was. A horse that even my father couldn't have even dreamed of owning" With wide blue eyes, the little boy hunkered

down in his seat. Nurses and foot traffic outside of the room muffled as I took a moment to return to the past.

"Carrie!" A strong bold voice came from outside of the stable. Jockeys and trainers busied around in preparation for the next race. "Carrie!" The second call had a twinge of anger. Quickly a little curly blonde headed girl came bounding out one of the stable doors. She looked up at the stern faced man, with blue eyes and mud-covered overalls. "Child, I cannot keep rounding you up when I have a million other more important things to attend to." He grabbed one of the overall straps and dragged her down the dirt paths towards another stable. Her feet scrambled to keep up with his, her eyes fluttered about as she looked at all the horses and people walking around. A boy no older than sixteen was leading a big black thoroughbred down the road.

"Hi Carrie!" He yelled as he walked by with a grin. The blonde haired girl smiled and waved back before being jerked and dragged into the nearby stable. They soon arrived at an emptied, unkempt, stall. The little girl was shoved into the stall and handed a pitchfork.

"You were supposed to have all of these stalls cleaned before Big Reds race was over! His potential buyers will be here any minute." The man shoved the girl farther into the stall and stormed off. Many little girls dreamed of the day that they could own one these incredible creatures. But many little girls didn't know the reality of what went on behind the scenes. All that these beautiful creatures are seen as is a potential profit. Once they grew old or became, in a sense, broken, they were often tossed away. Which was something that Carrie could relate to. Carrie was born with a genetic disease that caused her to lose one of her legs. She walked with a limp because of the prosthetic the doctors had given to her. This was something that her father could not stand to live with. Her family was full of high profile racers, and trainers, that having a daughter with a 'condition' was a blemish her father often tried to cover.

Kept in the background Carrie spent a lot of her time cleaning stalls and sneaking off to watch all of the racers practice. She dreamed of the day that she would race. A loud commotion arouse outside of the stables. A horse screamed and people from all directions came running. Carrie dropped the pitchfork and stuck her head out of the door. To her disbelief a pure white thoroughbred was amidst the crowd. Handlers tried to tame the wild-eye creature, but to no avail. He reared and pulled on the leads as if he were screaming that he was done with everything. Carrie dropped the pitchfork and slowly walked out of the barn. She walked passed the panicked trainers as if they didn't even exist. Her eyes met his and as fast as it started, the commotion stopped. The gelding snorted but stood tall, just watching the little girl make her way towards him. It was an instant connection. Quickly Carrie was snatched up, her eyes still focused on the white gelding. "How many times do I have to tell you! Get to work!" Carried was tossed towards the stable. Unable to catch her balance she felt backwards. Embarrassed she looked down.

"Yes father." The man stormed off. Sitting for a moment she looked around for the white horse, a tear hung on her eye but did not fall. Footsteps rushed over to her.

"Come on, I'll help ya up." The young boy from earlier came to her aid. He had dark scruffy hair, which was wet from sweat. Carrie took his hand and dusted herself off. His name was Aden; he was the youngest jockey to competitively race. He was also her friend.

As Carrie grew older, apart from appearance, nothing had changed. Her father insisted she stayed in the background. She never sat foot in a saddle, and god-forbid she set foot near a racetrack. The white horse she witnessed years ago hadn't been around since that memorable day. Aden, the young jockey, kept Carrie company in the stables when he wasn't busy training or racing. They joked around often and ran off to nearby pastures to talk and watch all of the horses graze. One evening the sunset was particularly beautiful. Aden and Carrie leaned over a pasture fence, talking as usual, until a familiar white gelding captured her eyes. Carried turned to see the horse in the distance, he stood tall and proud. "What are you looking at?" Aden questioned while scanning the field. She pointed to the horse; still Aden couldn't find what she was looking at. The horse reared, its long white mane flew back, a truly magical sight. She turned to look at Aden confused. How could he not see that?

Aden kept her company for most nights at the pasture where she saw the mysterious 'ghost horse,' the name that he had given the horse. Still, that was the only night she saw him. As races moved around the country, so did Carrie and her family. The white thoroughbred remained on her mind. Surly he was real the first day she saw him, how could he just disappear. Each track she found herself at, she would always sneak off to a nearby pasture in hopes of seeing the ghost horse. One evening Aden joined her in silence as they watched the horses graze. "Adiemus," he said out of the blue. Carrie turned to him with curiosity. "It means we will approach." Still confused, she sat quietly waiting for an explanation. "The horse you actually saw the day I helped you to your feet was not white but was chestnut. The gelding you speak of is Adiemus, he is known to some as a guardian angel. I have never seen him, but I've heard of him and evidently he has chosen you." Aden paused for a moment. Carrie was unsure if he was joking or being serious. She had heard of Adiemus too, but it was often just a joke amongst riders. 'If the white thoroughbred choses you, you will be the greatest jockey there ever was.' No one truly believed this.

That evening played on Carries mind for months to come. She couldn't ride? Her father forbid it and her condition prevented it. As she grew older, her father's influence lessened. She moved away and worked at a stable near a racetrack. On her night off work she snuck into the closed track. Standing on the turf she closed her eyes. She heard the roar of the crowd and the thunder of the horses. Once her eyes opened she stood breathless. The white horse stood less than ten feet away. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief. The horse stood for a moment then turned and walked away. She stared as it disappeared into the distance.

The next day a familiar voice came from behind as she cleaned the racers stalls. "Aden!" she exclaimed all while running to give him a hug. The previous year she had heard that he had been in an accident and was unable to race. He found a new passion in training and had trained some of the best riders around. Behind him was a black mare all saddled and ready to go. "Need me to un-tack your horse?" she asked. He backed away and smiled.

"No, this is for you." Aden handed her the reins. "Are you ready to ride?" A smile stretched wide across her face.

"Grandma, did you race? What was it like?" The little boy pushed to know more. I simply smiled and nodded. Leaning over with shaky hands, I grabbed an old scrapbook. It was filled with pictures and ribbons from races of the past. On the very back was a picture of a dark haired boy and blonde curly haired girl. Underneath read: 'To my love. Sincerely, Aden.'

"The day my father chose wealth and power was the day he lost everything. The day he gave me up and shoved me aside was the day I gained everything." I laid back on the hospital bed, closed my eyes and smiled.