Oh Sisters, Let's Go Down.

I wrote this piece about my true companion, my horse Wess. He's been through everything with me, and as he gets older and I get older too, I realize how much he means to me, and how much I owe him. A tribute to a best friend who has shown me that no matter what abuse you've been through, and before he was given to me he went through more than most people can imagine, you can always come out stronger.


 Oh Sisters, Let’s Go Down.


 The temperature had reached a record-breaking heat, even for August. Even the trees seemed to be sweating. I was inexperienced, naive and sitting upon a thousand pounds of angry, hot and abused horse. The heaving of his chest raced onward, continuously situating at about twice his natural breathing. Wess, my newly acquired morgan horse, had been passed around from place to place. No one ever wanted him, and no one ever cared.
 As a younger version of myself, I had been moved around too. Never having a place to call home brought us together. He was given to me, literally. People say “never look a gift horse in the mouth” but what they really should say is, “one does not simply ride this horse.”
 About every fifteen steps, he would stop. His hatred for mankind would swell like a balloon being inflated, and he would defy me by stopping where he stood and refusing to move. Each time I had to dismount and walk for about a third of a mile, or until he decided it was a good idea to move again. I remounted and eventually we reached the river bank of the Ellis River, with about a gallon of sweat pouring all over my body, and dirt caked on my arms. I had a creeper dirt-stache above my upper lip and my hair was sticking to the underside of my riding helmet. To my dismay, and to make matters worse, everyone had already safely crossed the river.
 Naturally, Wess balked at the idea of crossing a heavy current, and to be honest, so did I. I didn’t know the special, shallow path everyone took, so I had to take the only way I could. Slowly pulling myself off his back and into the surging water, I took my reins and put them over his head. For the first time, I looked into the eyes, I mean really looked. I saw why he was the way he was. I reminded myself of how truly stubborn I was, and how all I needed was for someone to be a strong leader for me. It’s what he needed too. I whispered to him. I told him I loved him and we’d be able to do this. Even though I could barely swim, I plunged into the water, and for the first time, Wess followed me willingly.
 I began to struggle and my lungs filled with liquid. My head got stuck in the heavy current and I was purely and unequivocally terrified.
My paranoid Wess pushed me, picked me up out of the water and gave me a powerful shoulder to wrap my arms around. Together, we braved the river. The whites of his eyes appeared, and his ears were pinned backward, expressing the terror spinning madly through both our bodies. However, that brotherly shoulder was there for me when I needed it, and has been ever since.
 We both collapsed on the beach in exhaustion, shaking the water from our spines. I kissed his soft muzzle. I climbed, soggy boots and wet jeans and all, back in the saddle. After catching our breath, we cantered unrestrained across the rest of the beach and up into an open field. I dropped the reins and let him run at his own pace. I realized then that you can’t force a spirit like that into submission, but it can be earned. He ran farther than he ever had. Our pulses matched in perfect rhythm. I let my arms stretch from fingertip to fingertip and closed my eyes while he pounded through the grass. We’d found home. We’d found freedom.

La Roie, La Sainte et Une Amie

A playlist for a master of words, and a friend who has never let me down. A true friend, a terrifying friend, and a loyal companion.

Stilettos and Broken Bottles

I have an intense desire to be a part of high fashion. I've always admired it from afar, never even being able to dream of affording it. I adore Ferrera, Wang and Armani. They are all artists and they use their models to create something greater than art.. "because you live your life in it..." -Nigel, Devil Wears Prada

Stars, Music and Peace.

This particular piece is written about a song that connect myself and a very dear friend of mine, my best friend actually. She's in my class. We wrote about the same piece, and used the same quote from the lyrics in our pieces. Weird. But awesome. I really hope someone will find peace with one of the most musically dreamlike song, Caribbean Blue by the Celtic singer, Enya.

A Night in my Mind

Another creative writing piece: One about sleep. About anything really, as long as it's about sleep.

 I will do this someday, with wind chimes, and apple trees.

The Plastics... only dumber.

As part of my blog, I will be putting in in-class pieces from my creative writing class, starting with this one. This is about Middle School / Junior High / Hell / Breeding Grounds for Spawn of Satan ... whatever you'd like to name it and about the power that particular bullies can have. Well, like any middle schooler, I didn't particularly do anything worth remembering in middle school, so here goes nothing, pieced together from scattered memories, and bits of glass.