My sister Elizabeth and I are the most experienced jockeys around. For as long as I can remember we have been interested in all types of equine beauties. Perhaps our attraction to these extravagant and valuable species began at a very young age, when mother would read us Black Beauty. I remember visualizing the dark, mysterious way these animals moved, as mom read the story to us. One moment they were hot blooded- full of speed and endurance, while the next moment they would be cold bloods- suitable for slow, heavy work. Oh, how well I do remember always dreaming, wishing that one day I would have some stallions of my own. Now, I have just that, and more.

Elizabeth and I have them trained so well. They are domesticated beasts. We are their leader. They wait in the back alley at night, behind the house, running through the hedges to brush their huge and hairy snouts against the windows where we both lie sleepless. We would wait for them to come to us, they were trained intelligent creatures. We fantasize of stroking their ears, their manes, their heaving flanks. When the blazing sun sets and the icy moon comes our visions of riding these flawless creatures becomes a reality.

My favourite wild horse has a black, silky coat. He is always the first to come when I call. This majestic stallion comes running even when he is at pasture and is content with being alone. I know he could never leave me, I am his owner. His coat so dark and his eyes so large and mysterious, it would be impossible for me to resist the chance at training such a marvelous creature. When he whinnies, his perfectly groomed coat shines in the most beautiful way possible, his sound so pleasant to my experienced ears. The way he canters, so flawless compared to the others. He is strong, reliable, intelligent and trained.

The other horses I, Mary, am not so fond of.

Although the stubborn Palomino with his gorgeous, tan coat is pleasing on the eyes, he is a head shaker. He causes great frustration to me, not so much to my sister, as she has a great deal of patience with stupid beasts such as this one. Something that distinguishes between the duplicate bodies we have. This behavior, a sign of impatience and anticipation. He can not listen long enough to learn from me, always taking advice from others. I am not his leader and he is not my stallion. He comes if the others come, but would never stay around long enough to receive individual training. When the moon went down he trots off into the sunset with great speeds, in hopes that he will receive better education some where else, by someone else. This dull, ignorant beast was unreliable and untrained.

Elizabeth and I are very committed, we are never the ones to do things half-heartedly. We sometimes gallop into the hills where the fairest stallions will be waiting for us. Their long dark manes intertwined with the wild violets and the warm summer wind. At times like these, I feel as though I am one with the secret darkness, the beauty of the majestic creatures. Almost like I can escape from the expectations of society to be perfect, and travel to a dimension were I am the commander.




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