I can still feel the sting of his whip, no matter how fast I run. The sweat is running down my body and my lungs are on fire. And still I run. Not for the sake of winning for I do not understand this concept. I just know that I want this to end. I feel the earth still pounding under my hooves. There is no way out of this. No way to break from this race until my jockey slows me after the finish line. Win or lose, I will be made to run again.
You nod in agreement, thinking to yourself, Yes, I understand. Sometimes, I feel this way in life (trapped and unable to break from the race). The race is over and they have stopped quite close to you. The winner of the race, a black steed covered with sweat and foam, his sides heaving, raises his head and looks straight into your eyes with his, full of pain and defeat.
You feel the anguish of this animal but are unable to move. After the men leave, you are able to stand and willingly move away from the tree. Surprisingly, you feel rested and since, in many ways, this has been such an enjoyable journey, you decide to head back into the forest.
Travelling along the edge of the forest, you find a road (you assume it must be a road because it is very wide). If it is, it is not travelled often for the grass is up to your knees. Walking this way is not easy but you do take delight in the birds' songs. You travel this way for about an hour when you think you hear voices. You do hear voices. In fact, it sounds like a whole town. The "road" turns a corner parting the curtain of the trees and revealing a small town. This road comes in from the back giving you another reason to believe that "the road" has long been abandoned.
Once in town, you see a man on the corner who seems to be preaching something. You turn to walk towards him and bump into a young lady, who drops a sheet of paper. Before you can hand it back to her, she is lost in the bustle of the street. Would you like to listen to the man or read the paper?
Copyright © 1997 by Kari Drake. All Rights Reserved.
