Close my eyes just to look at you
My definition of ‘different’ is not quite the same as everyone else’s. Bays, blacks, horses of solid color with no real outlying markings … these are ‘different’ to me. I was born into a world of color, from the very moment I opened my eyes. My mother, the color of fresh spring grass, she is normal to me. Safe. My own reflection isn’t even that disturbing - a pale mint green, fading to a proud teal. I don’t seem to understand why the others would choose to be so boring. But then again, I’m only a young thing and I’ve no idea how the world works. I don’t even fully understand myself yet, or the power that’s hidden in my bones, in my blood. Passed on to me by a father I will never know or care to see.
Mother’s busy. She’s back home, entertaining a sly-looking white stallion. I don’t mind the fact that she’s gone. I’m never afraid when she’s not near. Instinct, I suppose. I feel more predator than prey, so I have no hesitations about wandering outside the confines of my birthplace to explore this new land. But, out here, everyone is all so bland. Even when I look around me at the other foals, no one sticks out. Bummer.
My ears fall flat, and my wily, pale green tail bats against my supple little backside. I huff, annoyed with the fact that there’s no one remotely like me. Boring earth tones as far as the eye can see. With a frustrated shake of my neck I trot further from the crowd, seeking out something tasty to occupy my time - and that’s when I see them. Two fillies; one who fades from bay to fuschia, and the other who sports a fascinating stripe down her back. “Finally.” I think, and I forget my current occupation to join them.
Ignorant of customs or even manners, I simply interrupt. In my mind, introductions are a waste of time. “What are you two talking about?” I ask, tilting my head with the endless curiosity of a foal.
Mother’s busy. She’s back home, entertaining a sly-looking white stallion. I don’t mind the fact that she’s gone. I’m never afraid when she’s not near. Instinct, I suppose. I feel more predator than prey, so I have no hesitations about wandering outside the confines of my birthplace to explore this new land. But, out here, everyone is all so bland. Even when I look around me at the other foals, no one sticks out. Bummer.
My ears fall flat, and my wily, pale green tail bats against my supple little backside. I huff, annoyed with the fact that there’s no one remotely like me. Boring earth tones as far as the eye can see. With a frustrated shake of my neck I trot further from the crowd, seeking out something tasty to occupy my time - and that’s when I see them. Two fillies; one who fades from bay to fuschia, and the other who sports a fascinating stripe down her back. “Finally.” I think, and I forget my current occupation to join them.
Ignorant of customs or even manners, I simply interrupt. In my mind, introductions are a waste of time. “What are you two talking about?” I ask, tilting my head with the endless curiosity of a foal.
KRAZ
Taken by the seamless vision