Hey everyone, this story of mine IS ACTUALLY PUBLISHED in a book called Small But Loud Voices 2009. Please tell me what you think, I don't mind flames and would love some feedback I know it isn't my best work as I was 11 years old when I wrote it and we had a word limit as well.
So with out further adue I give you Heart Break.
Heart Break
I remember everything, the good, the bad and the ugly.
Her hooves pounding the damp earth, her head held high, mane and tail streaming out behind her, she galloped free from all worries and blame.
“Wake up, Elkira!” a voice pierced my dreams. I snorted and groggily opened my eyes. Elkira glared balefully at her dam.
“Why can’t I sleep?” I questioned, climbing to my feet and shaking myself. Elkira was a young Arabian mare, graceful and tall. I was built for running, my coat was a dusty gold and my tail and mane were as white as snow. I was fourteen hands tall with much growth still to come.
“Your sire wants to see you,” Lirica my dam told me.
My sire was the leader of the herd. He was tall and muscular with a coat darker than the night sky, with a distinctive white star on his muzzle.
“Where is he?” I enquired.
“Over by the stream,” Lirica replied.
I trotted off, weaving between the other horses that were cropping the lush grass.
“You wished to see me?” I asked.
“Yes……..tell me, have you ever seen a ‘two-legger’?” he asked.
“Yes, they don’t come here though. It’s too hard for them to climb,” I said with a frown, hiding painful thoughts. “Why do you ask?” I enquired.
“We must leave,” he said suddenly.
“No we can’t,” I cried with dismay.
“We absolutely MUST leave!” he said forcefully, glancing sadly over his herd as her turned.
I knew where he was going with this, as memories began flooding my mind.
I remember it all so well; we were travelling to the High Peaks sometimes galloping, other times plodding along like cattle, though always on the look out for predators. I can still hear the ringing cries of eagles as if already lamenting what was to happen, wheeling and soaring. We were ambushed by an army of two-leggers. Every member of our herd was lucky and got away, except me. A rope thudded around my neck, tightening cruelly. I remember my screams and the pain, more ropes tightening, pulling me down, the more I struggled the more they tightened, I saw my sire, anguish written on his face “GO!!” I shrieked.
Strangely, due to reasons I could not understand, no one would buy me. Well, that’s not totally accurate they would purchase me but would soon bring me back. The two legger’s fought amongst themselves, blaming each other for the profit I would not bring. They claimed I was cursed with black luck. Many looked me over. One man claimed I had the body but not the spirit. I stopped eating in defiance , hoping I would die rather than be the slave of two leggers, the men talked, saying I would die soon if I did not eat.
A girl came with her father, she begged him to buy me for her, she pitied my appearance and her kind soul wanted to save me. He told her “this one is dirty, smelly and has no spirit, wouldn’t you like a happy, healthy pony?” They went away, and came back the next day and bought me, the little girl led me away, she spoke softly to me, saying we would visit the old man and the sea. I walked two days with them, when up ahead I saw a farm, I saw horses being ridden, I saw the metal bit and hard hide saddles on them, panic rose in me like lava, giving me new strength I broke away and fled, the irresistible pull of my herd calling me. I felt freedom once more.
I traveled for five long days, slowly regaining my strength, when I reached the ambush sight I stopped and listened to the cries of the eagles as if welcoming me home, I could smell the herd nearby and with my destination in sight I hurried on, my hoofs ringing on the loose stones, as I rounded a stone outcrop and gave a strangled whinny, below me, my family and friends lay strewn across the rocky ground like discarded toys, I descended into the meadow which stank of death, I smelt gun powder, and saw gunshot wounds in them, crows circled and strutted, their icy white eyes staring accusingly at me.
I had left ‘the valley of the dead’ in numb silence, I left my spirit there, crying and lamenting my loss and despair, I felt empty apart from a peacefulness that I now felt as I waited, my death drawing ever nearer. Seven days I waited, hoping that would be the day I died and joined my herd, as I drew closer to death I saw them waiting at the edge of the spirit world “I’ll be there soon,” I promised them hoarsely. “I’ll be there…..soon,” as my voice faded, my eyes slid closed, I was to take my last breath and then I remembered not all of my herd had been in the valley, so overcome by relief an inner strength overcome me. I now had hope.
I stood, my befuddled mind playing tricks on my thoughts. My eyes opened, clarity returned to my mind, colours seeped back into my surroundings, a cold wind blew down from the mountain, bringing with it the promise of snow high up in the desolate peaks, I took a shuddering breath the air burned my throat with its chill. I bent down an ate as much as I could of the lush grass around me; I wobbled to the stream, trickling in between the rocks and drank my fill, I rested catching my breath and then, dread rising in me, I slowly went to the opening into the valley, the stench made me gag, I stumbled, then continued, I went among the dead , there wasn’t much left, but the ghosts of my herd each calling their names, I left the valley.
My sire, my dam and seven others had escaped the massacre. I followed the near invisible scent high into the mountains, resting often along the way, preserving my strength.
Soon the scent got stronger, and I knew, I was getting closer. I stumbled wearily into the mountains, I saw my dam, sire and the lucky seven, heads bowed, grazing on the sparse grass. They looked up as I entered, their eyes widen in shock.
Though the grief of our loved ones would always be heavy in our hearts, and raw in our minds we will battle on through our lives, never forgetting but never succumbing totally to grief, we still had our lives to live. The mountains will always be safe from the evil that is the two-leggers.
