I
was dying.
At least, that’s what it felt like.
Cracks crisscrossed my hooves, and pain seized my back
every time I stumbled another step. The kind man walked
wearily ahead of me, leading me forward. He glanced back
again to murmur a word of consolation to the woman on
my back. The words had a calming effect although not
meant for me.
I plodded on, placing one hoof in front of another. I could
not fail. I knew that. The kind man was counting on me
to bring this woman to the small village in the distance. I
would never disappoint him. He was all I’ve ever known.
From the moment I opened my eyes at birth, the kind
man had been gazing at me with his gentle eyes. His gaze
made you want to do anything for him. I would continue
for him.
The girl on my back was a cause of great puzzlement and
contemplation for me. Throughout my young life, I had
never seen another human except the kind man. When
he appeared in my stall one day, holding the hand of the
delicate girl, I had been confused. But I had accepted her
as a rider without complaint. The kind man asked me to
do it, so I did.
I had many questions though. Why did the girl accompany
us? Did the kind man want companionship on this long
journey? But wasn’t I his companion?
The quiet girl wore a garment of the softest blue. I had
never seen a color like it. The kind man had never worn
anything like it. He had always worn a rough robe the
color of the earth, like the one he wore now.
After much thought and deliberation, I concluded that
she must be wearing a piece of the sky. The conclusion
was the only one that made sense. If that color only
appeared in the sky, the girl must have somehow taken
a piece of it to wear as a covering. This incredible feat
increased my respect for the unassuming girl. She must be
a very great lady if the sky gave up part of itself for her.
When the journey dragged longer, I often amused myself
by looking for the spot in the sky where she had taken a
piece. I wasn’t sure what it would look like, but I assumed
it would look cloudy and grey like when the sun hid, and
the sky cried.
I had never understood why the sky had cried, but maybe
I had found my answer. Perhaps the sky wept for its
lost piece. Maybe it needed that piece to complete its
happiness, and it regretted giving up a piece of itself.
The girl seemed to be pregnant, which was another cause
for my concern. She was little more than a child herself;
was she ready to be a mother? I could feel what she
carried. It was a Sacred Presence, one I could have carried
for many days, even years if I had to. Although it was
probably fanciful thinking on my part, I seemed to receive
strength in my weary limbs when I thought of the Special
Presence the girl carried.
A sound reached my ears, and they swiveled to catch it. I
raised my head. We had reached the village. Finally. Our
journey was complete. I heaved a sigh of relief and was
amused to hear the girl do the same.
Once we entered the village, the kind man led us through
the streets. Not a single thing, man or beast, could be
seen. Everyone must have already gone in for the night.
We walked up to the door of a small inn. The kind man
knocked, and an angry voice shouted from inside. The
kind man’s expression became sad. I felt terrible. Had I
done something wrong? Could I have somehow displeased
my master?
The kind man noticed my distress, and patted my head
while speaking soothing words. My ears perked up again. I
wasn’t the cause of his distress.
My master tried another inn. He knocked at the door, and
we waited expectantly. No answer.
The wind whipped cruelly down the streets biting into my
flanks with its many teeth. The girl I carried made a sound
of distress.
SHORT STORY FINALIST IN THE 2016 ‘BASKET OF CHEER’ CONTEST
| GRADE 11
An avid reader and prolific writer, John is smack dab in the middle of seven children. As
a junior, he is busy taking college prep tests and trying to figure out what he wants to
do with his life. He recently completed a 50,000 word novel for National Novel Writer’s
Month this past November. John is very musical and loves to play the piano and sing in
the church choir.
JOHN REGNIER
9
BAYLEY BULLETIN, DEC 2016-FEB 2017
