I hold my head high, my fine ears pricked to attention as I hear my name, “The Darkness of Light”
I wouldn’t ask how I got this name because honestly, I couldn’t tell you if I tried. I’m a simple girl, my flaxen blonde mane and tail flow in the wind as grass bends to the summer breeze. My coat is dark as chocolate skinned men char grilled with the human made destruction called war. My eyes are dark too, every emotion flows through them shining like gold in the kings treasury. However time changed me, how you may ask? I can explain a memory in my age, yet many will ignore what bent my heart into the fiend that took the life of a foolish little girl.
Am I a monster? Was I a monster? Yes I was. The question should not be what I was but why I was. The two legged beings known as man are a destructive force to many a heart. We are forced to bend and break to serve the whims of a girl wanting to show her prowess and ride a beautiful steed. Human hands mould the horse, our minds are not sharp, our tongue not fluent, our hearts not invincible, our lives worthless. Humans decided to break my will with iron fist so a young selfish girl could ride me.
I started out in a flowing paddock, I was born quite late. The stars and moon kissed the grey ground as my body sunk into the snows of winter, the season most trialling to a grown mare or stallion, let alone a new born foal.
My mother was a simple mare, with a deformity known as club foot. It meant her hooves were uneven; her shoulder heights were also as mixed as a witch’s potion. This was because of tendon shrinkage, she would scream in pain as she was forced to another stallion. Stallion after Stallion, foal after foal. My first masters found this cute, like I and my now dead brothers before me were fashion accessories. My heart was born to be broken by these men as I was weaned at four months, my mother sick with her imperfection.
I remember watching the master saddle her up. Mother screamed and kicked. She cried.
“Please sir it hurts, I’m too old please” it seemed the master heard because he didn’t do anything else but tighten the girth. Then the horror begun, then she walked out. Her eyes were brilliant green with a lush strangely flowing blonde mane I believe humans call hair in French braids. I watched my mother pin her ears back as she stared down the girls face, then a bang that I have heard again and again throughout my life. Mother dropped to the ground with a scream.
I remember, screaming, begging her. “Mommy please get up, please I need you mom PLEASE” my little blue eyes stung as mother twitched, refusing to die. Two more bangs her legs stopped kicking. She stopped screaming. It was then, her brave heart stopped beating.
I was left untouched, I grew wild at heart. The joy of racing the wind, rearing higher than the sun and cantering among the stars. My hooves were long, but I pawed rocks to shorten them, they were black as night also, just like my mothers. My mane shone more brilliantly than the summer sun, my coat also shone, almost black and softer than silk. I grew up into a beautiful young filly, dish faced with the fine head of my breed, the Arabian horse. My legs were long and strong, no white markings down them at all. Down my face I never knew I had a fine blaze.
I was about two and a half when I had a rope thrown around my muscular yet fine neck, and I first saw Dusty. He was hot to say the least, a quarter horse cross with possibly paint. Fine legged deep chested, a beautiful sun kissed buckskin coat with one blue eye one brown. He also had no time for me as his balls were chopped off at three. He was now six, a teenager so to speak. He didn’t soften the rope for me as he trotted; I tried to match his stride only to be forced back by something stinging across my nose.
“Stay behind, don’t fight. It will be better that way, to not have a heart to break” Dusty nickered. The crop hit his flank as he danced forwards, he did not have my natural grace.
Time ticked but I saw it, white fences almost over my 15hh back. Chains around several horses’ necks, and an old bendy legged sod holding one down. His hand over the horse’s eyes as he whispered “I’m sorry”
Then that bang was again.
I couldn’t help it, I leapt so high I believed I was flying; my hooves caught the light as my feet came back down. I stared into those green eyes. The blonde hair was back in a ponytail, excuse the pun but her hair looked like the horses butt crack not the hair. Her face was worse. Her voice was as loud as the bang, and as harsh as the rope still digging into neck.
“She’s perfect. Let’s back her” the woman smiled sweetly at me. I bore my teeth. She smacked me across the nose roughly, I snorted.
I felt the air drop as Dusty dropped his head. The thing on his back laughed.
“Isn’t she a Doll Kristy?” he laughed louder as she smiled.
“She’ll be amazing for me when she can work in dressage frame” the woman, Kristy replied. She smelt young, not quite a woman yet but the scent of several men was obvious. I snickered again; she seemed irritated by any noise I made. So I made noise. LOTS of noise. I snickered, snorted, whinnied, and screamed. She was going red. I nodded my head with a smile. She smacked a crop right between the eyes.
“Ouch” I yelled at her. Again the crop hit me before she stormed off.
The events were a blur until I remember weight forced onto my back.I shook and whimpered.
“Why are you hurting me?” I looked as they tightened what they called a girth.The bandy legged man placed his hand over my nose, between my nostrils. He spoke words I couldn’t understand, yet his intention was kind. The weight of the girl suddenly was forced upon me. I tried for that kind man. I held my legs straight, but the pain. My knees shook then collapsed. The screaming followed, I struggled to rise. The old man was pushed away, and then the chin tightened as I was dragged on.
There were screams from me and the men. I felt the weight lift from my back, but still I couldn’t rise.
“You backed her too early” The old man shook his head, “She wasn’t ready”
“She’s useless, throw her away” I heard. My heart skipped a beat then pounded faster than a racehorse. I was ruined, worthless. I was to be ended like my mother. No. I reared. By god I sprung to my feet and threw my hooves straight for the one holding my chain, a woman also with green eyes but greying hair.
Everything was a flash.I was sent away, beaten to submit to the human hand. I was deathly afraid of humans by the time I was 5. I would beg for forgiveness from their selfish ways, for the company of my mother.
Again I was backed, this time the fight had left my heart. My nightmares build around the reality but I could never confess to like human company. The name, Doll had stuck with me. I threw my head in protest to such a name, I wasn’t a plaything. I was a living breathing creature with needs like any Human, like ANY living creature.
The bit was so cold, my teeth hurt. The riders on my back pulled my chin to my chest, and then made me run for them. Walk, trot, canter, gallop, flying changes and so forwards. Extend the gait, collect myself, and then collect the gate. Keep my head held perfectly, curved neck. I soon discovered opening my mouth meant I felt the bit less. So I would. Then I would gallop off with impish glee.
It was one day I was lathered in sweat, foam dripped from my mouth as did blood from the bit pinching my tongue. I stared into the green eyes again, for the final time. She smacked a crop against her boot as two men held me down. She mounted me roughly, her heel hitting my rump as she did. I squealed. She then cropped me.
I threw my head in protest. “Hang on be nice” I cried. She cropped me harder this time. I whinnied and lifted my hooves off the ground for a second before they hit the ground and I was forced into a turn, the bit was blindingly painful.
I opened my mouth before I bucked. Again and again I threw myself in any and all directions, just to get her off my back. Her heels felt sharp, her crop was painful. My mouth and sides were bleeding.Finally I felt hopeless.
I threw everything into my rear, the girl pulled my mouth. Then I felt myself fall back. For the first and final time in our lives we agreed. This wasn’t good.
I felt her body dig into my rump as there were sickening cracks. I rolled over and rose weakly to my feet; I stared down at the girl. She was worse than my mother, and she’s dead. The girl was broken, cold as the winters wind silent as the grave her meat sack would soon fill.
It was a year after I met her. She was young, darkly dressed with long mattered brown hair and eyes blue enough to rival my own. Her black jodhpurs blended into her black hoodie, her boots zipped up the middle to be covered by the jodhpurs. She looked at me then tilted her head curiously. I nodded mine equally as intrigued.
“Hey there pretty girl” she said softly poking orange stick at me; I bit it aggressively only to discover it tasted good. The girl made a strange noise in her throat, laughter? I nickered happily back.
I wish she had seen me sooner. I knew every day my eyes begged for help, I wanted to have a relationship with humans. I didn’t mind the saddle; I hoped the bit was fixable. This girl looked into my eyes and she saw me, not the rage and pain but my hopefulness I suddenly found. She too had tale in her pale eyes; they shined with a sorrow that broke my heart. Eyes once so magnetic were now so dead, except for the spark I felt inside me flickered in her eyes.
It was the start of a beautiful friendship, one that would last forever.
My name is Doll, I show under the name The Darkness of Light. My coat is the darkness that lingers in the muddy heart of man. My mane is the light that shines in us all. I am 15.1hands high. I am not 14years old. My owner, the pale eyed girl Marcy Locks is now the Olympic champion, I am her horse. Together we fly.
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