Post by Swede on Sept 8, 2008 11:39:10 GMT -5
Name: Pharaoh
Age: 8 years
Breed: Paint horse
Height: 15.1 hh
Colour: black minimal overo
Eye Colour: deep brown
Gender: female
Markings: snip, white splotch on left side
History:
I do not remember where I come from.
Scratch that. I remember; at least, I think I do. It is somewhere in my head, my past, my identity, tantalizing me. Like when you know someone is beside you, you see them through your peripheral vision. Only when I turn to look at my past, it vanishes and I do not know who it was.
But sometimes, I look fast enough, and catch a tiny glimpse. I know that I have known a warm muzzle, the bright light so painful in my eyes and the dark shadow that became my refuge. When someone else holds the memory for me, with a word or a scent, that is when I can see for a short moment.
Or maybe it was just a dream...
I know for certain that I was in the snow. And I was not alone. Heimri was his name; Heimri, the Icelandic with the odd color and the strange lore. He said I was blessed by Odin; not knowing who that was, it was some time before I came to appreciate his words. But I do not know Heimri anymore. The sky was so white, the ground fluffy and up to your knees, tiny icicles hanging from my mane. And I saw nothing around me. And then I lost Heimri. Just like everything else.
It has been nearly a year since. It is an odd feeling, knowing that seven years of your memory are missing. I do not know where they have gone. They have not left my head; I simply cannot find them. You, who know where you come from and can dream of where to go, you may count yourself lucky. I do not know who I am, no idea where I come from or how I came to be here. It's frightening- imagine being in a room, where everyone knows each other and knows what their role in society is, and there you stand, not even knowing if you are supposed to be here or down the hall. I do not even know where my name comes from. I'm fairly sure I wasn't given it at birth, but several years later. But I cannot guarantee anything.
Some call me a dreamer, others name me thinker. It was Heimri who dubbed me wise one. I do not know about that; but Heimri never lied. I do not lie either. But it is hard to answer truthfully about yourself, when you do not know what the answer is. They laugh if I tell them I do not know. They think I am stupid. I am not. And it hurts.
But I suppose that is life. It certainly is the way mine goes.
