TW: Domestic abuse, stillborn children, depression, suicide.
I am saying this because I do not want ANYONE to get really upset or triggered from events in their past. I cried while writing this today - it was a great outlet because I relate to a lot of things in this post. Please proceed with caution. <3
"I'm combing through the wreckage, trying to find where I've been..."
Two years had gone by in swift motion.
Sunny days bled into charcoal nights, the sun played hide and seek with the moon. Two years had slipped through her hooves. As she stood high upon the cliff, staring off into the horizon, Chrisma thought back to the circumstances that had brought her here.
***
She was three when she had met him.
Young, naïve, dumb…she hadn’t had a hardship in her life.
The field is where the story began.
Deep buckskin coat and completely mesmerizing green hues pierced through her skin and into her veins. He was dark, brooding – completely unlike the outgoing femme. “Opposites attract” they say.
He approached, he spoke. He told her his name was Valefar. Voice like velvet seeping into her ears. A word, a gesture…she was hooked. Five minutes and she knew that she wanted him to be hers.
Lust is what had brought them together. A towering, muscular figure; he needed no introduction, because even from afar she had wanted him. She smiled, she flirted; she flicked her tail and batted her lashes; fiery red coat and perfectly preened wings drawing him further in.
“Please come with me.”
A trap, a mistake. She fell for it.
The pair fell in love. At first, it was almost a movie-like romance; butterflies fluttering in stomachs, smiles so big it hurt, sweet-nothings whispered in the dead of night.
The love quickly turned toxic, like arsenic seeping into morning coffee. They fought teeth baring, blood drawing fights. Sex to make up for it and back they were again – a beautiful pair on the outside with trouble brewing between them. Weeks would go by without consequence...one word and the brawl began again.
Manipulation led to bloodshed, but she didn’t want to leave.
Where could she go?
A night of passion led to the ultimate heartache.
Breeding season – libido in full swing. Her scent enticing him to come near. She touched him – caressing his body with hers, drawing him closer. She was heart wrenchingly beautiful; shiny crimson coat, golden flecked orbs staring intently at him under her alabaster painted face…wings outstretched for him to gawk at. Under the starry sky, she nickered to him…flirted with him…she ached for him. How could he refuse?
Swollen belly, aching fetlocks. She had new purpose…she had a new love.
The child made her feel warm inside. It tickled her tummy as it moved, and she was glowing. She was the happiest she had ever been in her life.
Him? Not so much.
“I don’t want a child.” “Why did you seduce me?” “Now I have to take care of both of you.”
Words like venom, piercing into her heart. She wanted to run, but didn’t think she could protect herself.
Turns out, she was right.
He was angry. Eyes completely irrational with murder behind them. She could barely remember what she had said, but apparently it was enough.
A shove turned into a bite, which turned into a beating. The stallion apologized profusely for it…but Chrisma was finished. He told her if she left he would kill himself. But she had to do what was right her her and her baby.
“Goodbye, Val.”
A screeching neigh. A goodbye. She heard it from miles away…she hadn’t taken his threat so seriously.
Running. Panting. Her stomach was so huge…she didn’t make in time.
Off the cliff, to the rocks below. A crunch, a snap. The sharp rock pierced through him…he was gone. She sobbed, unable to see through her tears as the water took what was left of his body away. An agonized scream. Why had she walked away? Guilt rushed through her…she should’ve stayed.
Two weeks later, she went into labor. Blood - oh god, there was so much blood - poured out of her for hours until finally he was born. A colt…fiery red coat with beautiful black wings hugging his sides. He was absolutely beautiful. “Astelledon,” The only name Valefar had agreed to…his death still haunted her as she stared lovingly at her son, beginning to clean his coat.
Still.
She nudged him, urging him to rise.
Motionless.
Her heart began to pound. She shoved him, moving him desperately from side to side. What had happened? She had felt him moving inside her just days earlier. She pawed at him, panic fully setting in.
He was gone.
A cry rose from the depths of her belly. In agony, she tried to make him move. She plead with god to let him live, and take her instead. She caressed him with her neck, holding the lifeless body of her only child between her front legs.
“Please wake up…” For days, she begged. She cried until there were no tears left. She rocked the child back and forth, the world around her nothing more than a blur.
Rotting, smelling.
Bugs swarmed the body that she still held. She shooed them…but the swarm became too much…she had to move.
Shaky legs stumbled to get up, and she watched the body decay; eyes blank, heart completely shattered.
The one thing in life she had wanted – to be a mother – she had failed at. The child was gone, Valefar was gone…and she was nothing.
***
Today was her child’s birthday…he would’ve been two. He would’ve been such a beautiful stallion. He would’ve made her so proud…but he was dead, and his father was dead.
It was her fault.
So Chrisma stood at the edge of the cliff…contemplating. What did she even have to live for? Her beautiful coat that she once worked for hours to keep clean was covered in mud, her once preened wings unkempt. Her long, flowing crimson mane and tail stayed tangled with branches and debris. A sight, to say the least. Valefar had killed himself, and her child didn’t even have a chance at life.
Her eyes stayed blank… she was a hollow shell of what she used to be. Like the northern lights in a southern town, her happiness had been fleeting.
The sea on the horizon was a deep contrast of what was directly below her. It was calm, nearly unmoving. She watched it with uncertainty. Below, rocks jutted from the sea and formed huge sharp pillars. Waves crashed violently upon them. Just like her love had been with the buckskin stag – conflicted and virulent.
One landing on these, and it would be over. She wondered if Valefar had thought the same thing.
And then she decided.
Chrisma took in a deep breath of sea air, and moved closer to the edge. It beckoned her…it begged her to take the plunge. She put one hoof over the edge – it felt so real now. She put it back. She would do it…on the count of three.
3…2…
I am saying this because I do not want ANYONE to get really upset or triggered from events in their past. I cried while writing this today - it was a great outlet because I relate to a lot of things in this post. Please proceed with caution. <3
Two years had gone by in swift motion.
Sunny days bled into charcoal nights, the sun played hide and seek with the moon. Two years had slipped through her hooves. As she stood high upon the cliff, staring off into the horizon, Chrisma thought back to the circumstances that had brought her here.
***
She was three when she had met him.
Young, naïve, dumb…she hadn’t had a hardship in her life.
The field is where the story began.
Deep buckskin coat and completely mesmerizing green hues pierced through her skin and into her veins. He was dark, brooding – completely unlike the outgoing femme. “Opposites attract” they say.
He approached, he spoke. He told her his name was Valefar. Voice like velvet seeping into her ears. A word, a gesture…she was hooked. Five minutes and she knew that she wanted him to be hers.
Lust is what had brought them together. A towering, muscular figure; he needed no introduction, because even from afar she had wanted him. She smiled, she flirted; she flicked her tail and batted her lashes; fiery red coat and perfectly preened wings drawing him further in.
“Please come with me.”
A trap, a mistake. She fell for it.
The pair fell in love. At first, it was almost a movie-like romance; butterflies fluttering in stomachs, smiles so big it hurt, sweet-nothings whispered in the dead of night.
The love quickly turned toxic, like arsenic seeping into morning coffee. They fought teeth baring, blood drawing fights. Sex to make up for it and back they were again – a beautiful pair on the outside with trouble brewing between them. Weeks would go by without consequence...one word and the brawl began again.
Manipulation led to bloodshed, but she didn’t want to leave.
Where could she go?
A night of passion led to the ultimate heartache.
Breeding season – libido in full swing. Her scent enticing him to come near. She touched him – caressing his body with hers, drawing him closer. She was heart wrenchingly beautiful; shiny crimson coat, golden flecked orbs staring intently at him under her alabaster painted face…wings outstretched for him to gawk at. Under the starry sky, she nickered to him…flirted with him…she ached for him. How could he refuse?
Swollen belly, aching fetlocks. She had new purpose…she had a new love.
The child made her feel warm inside. It tickled her tummy as it moved, and she was glowing. She was the happiest she had ever been in her life.
Him? Not so much.
“I don’t want a child.” “Why did you seduce me?” “Now I have to take care of both of you.”
Words like venom, piercing into her heart. She wanted to run, but didn’t think she could protect herself.
Turns out, she was right.
He was angry. Eyes completely irrational with murder behind them. She could barely remember what she had said, but apparently it was enough.
A shove turned into a bite, which turned into a beating. The stallion apologized profusely for it…but Chrisma was finished. He told her if she left he would kill himself. But she had to do what was right her her and her baby.
“Goodbye, Val.”
A screeching neigh. A goodbye. She heard it from miles away…she hadn’t taken his threat so seriously.
Running. Panting. Her stomach was so huge…she didn’t make in time.
Off the cliff, to the rocks below. A crunch, a snap. The sharp rock pierced through him…he was gone. She sobbed, unable to see through her tears as the water took what was left of his body away. An agonized scream. Why had she walked away? Guilt rushed through her…she should’ve stayed.
Two weeks later, she went into labor. Blood - oh god, there was so much blood - poured out of her for hours until finally he was born. A colt…fiery red coat with beautiful black wings hugging his sides. He was absolutely beautiful. “Astelledon,” The only name Valefar had agreed to…his death still haunted her as she stared lovingly at her son, beginning to clean his coat.
Still.
She nudged him, urging him to rise.
Motionless.
Her heart began to pound. She shoved him, moving him desperately from side to side. What had happened? She had felt him moving inside her just days earlier. She pawed at him, panic fully setting in.
He was gone.
A cry rose from the depths of her belly. In agony, she tried to make him move. She plead with god to let him live, and take her instead. She caressed him with her neck, holding the lifeless body of her only child between her front legs.
“Please wake up…” For days, she begged. She cried until there were no tears left. She rocked the child back and forth, the world around her nothing more than a blur.
Rotting, smelling.
Bugs swarmed the body that she still held. She shooed them…but the swarm became too much…she had to move.
Shaky legs stumbled to get up, and she watched the body decay; eyes blank, heart completely shattered.
The one thing in life she had wanted – to be a mother – she had failed at. The child was gone, Valefar was gone…and she was nothing.
***
Today was her child’s birthday…he would’ve been two. He would’ve been such a beautiful stallion. He would’ve made her so proud…but he was dead, and his father was dead.
It was her fault.
So Chrisma stood at the edge of the cliff…contemplating. What did she even have to live for? Her beautiful coat that she once worked for hours to keep clean was covered in mud, her once preened wings unkempt. Her long, flowing crimson mane and tail stayed tangled with branches and debris. A sight, to say the least. Valefar had killed himself, and her child didn’t even have a chance at life.
Her eyes stayed blank… she was a hollow shell of what she used to be. Like the northern lights in a southern town, her happiness had been fleeting.
The sea on the horizon was a deep contrast of what was directly below her. It was calm, nearly unmoving. She watched it with uncertainty. Below, rocks jutted from the sea and formed huge sharp pillars. Waves crashed violently upon them. Just like her love had been with the buckskin stag – conflicted and virulent.
One landing on these, and it would be over. She wondered if Valefar had thought the same thing.
And then she decided.
Chrisma took in a deep breath of sea air, and moved closer to the edge. It beckoned her…it begged her to take the plunge. She put one hoof over the edge – it felt so real now. She put it back. She would do it…on the count of three.
3…2…