02-18-2019, 01:49 AM
I'll be sitting here with a song that I wrote, saying
love could change the world in a moment
love could change the world in a moment
Blue is gonna be my new favourite colour. Next to gold of course - just look at the sands, inviting me over while they’re gleaming in the sun.
I’m still catching my breath, since I’ve swam the last part on adrenalin rather than any training (I couldn’t have had any at my age) and of course I have been super scared by the sand monster. But that’s all in the past and my young mind doesn’t stay focused long enough to consider it might not be the only sand monster around. That quicksand is a natural thing occurring when water and fine sand fight for the same spot on the earth. The salt in the back of my throat is itchy while I breathe hard, practically gasp, and I cough a few times. The movement sends some water flying, my little body jerking a bit. But I’m not sick like other horses, I do think. But if I was, then surely this trip will help cure it! I know Papa has gone to get ice and my sister has gotten pebbles. We heard about flowers too, in our corner of the world, but the fairies couldn’t expect my family to run down from the North all the way South when they already said time was very short. But it is my turn now. Granted, they would not have given me permission, but I went anyway. I want to help, too.
I take a few steps away from the water and then I spy movement, and the sand reveals a small crab. I giggle in childish glee as it walks sideways and think of how easily it had escaped the sand it was buried in. I shall take an example out of this funny creature, I think.
There are other horses around, I smell them. When I finally look up from the sandy shore, I see that there are two places to go to. Left, where the beach is clean, and right, where wooden structures rise. I frown at the people going right. What do they hope to find there, that the beach, that nature, can’t give? Surely the prettiest shells are the ones that are hidden from the eye. Surely the prettiest shells are whole, and fresh.
I follow my little crab friend, and sidestep to the beach on the left, looking down. My emerald gaze is pinned on the golden sand, my gold-spotted white hind still turned to the sea.
It is a beautiful day but I am focused on my task. One might say that is an impressive feat for a young foal, but my crab friend and I have made it into a game.
I came here to find the very prettiest of shells, and I will find them.
And if I don’t, then at least I had some fun and made a new friend.
I’m still catching my breath, since I’ve swam the last part on adrenalin rather than any training (I couldn’t have had any at my age) and of course I have been super scared by the sand monster. But that’s all in the past and my young mind doesn’t stay focused long enough to consider it might not be the only sand monster around. That quicksand is a natural thing occurring when water and fine sand fight for the same spot on the earth. The salt in the back of my throat is itchy while I breathe hard, practically gasp, and I cough a few times. The movement sends some water flying, my little body jerking a bit. But I’m not sick like other horses, I do think. But if I was, then surely this trip will help cure it! I know Papa has gone to get ice and my sister has gotten pebbles. We heard about flowers too, in our corner of the world, but the fairies couldn’t expect my family to run down from the North all the way South when they already said time was very short. But it is my turn now. Granted, they would not have given me permission, but I went anyway. I want to help, too.
I take a few steps away from the water and then I spy movement, and the sand reveals a small crab. I giggle in childish glee as it walks sideways and think of how easily it had escaped the sand it was buried in. I shall take an example out of this funny creature, I think.
There are other horses around, I smell them. When I finally look up from the sandy shore, I see that there are two places to go to. Left, where the beach is clean, and right, where wooden structures rise. I frown at the people going right. What do they hope to find there, that the beach, that nature, can’t give? Surely the prettiest shells are the ones that are hidden from the eye. Surely the prettiest shells are whole, and fresh.
I follow my little crab friend, and sidestep to the beach on the left, looking down. My emerald gaze is pinned on the golden sand, my gold-spotted white hind still turned to the sea.
It is a beautiful day but I am focused on my task. One might say that is an impressive feat for a young foal, but my crab friend and I have made it into a game.
I came here to find the very prettiest of shells, and I will find them.
And if I don’t, then at least I had some fun and made a new friend.
but what do I know?
Aodhán
little fire
