Author:
Apathan
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Date Posted: 17:38:47 01/25/03 Sat
The aging Healer watches from a distance, clearly not the one his granddaughter sought. How long had it been since he had even seen Sophonia? Why, she must have been a foal herself. And... he squints at the young stallion beside her. Is that... Dancey's son? He blinks in bewilderment, as he is suddenly aware of a smaller shape by his granddaughter's side. You have got to be joking. No. She's... a mother? The bay closes his eyes and turns away, returning to his meaningless meditations, feeling more alone than he has ever felt... than most have ever felt. Where have I been? My granddaughter has grown up... my mate has disappeared... my eldest son is off somewhere living his life... and my youngest son. He stops there a moment, gazing up at the cold and unforgiving stars. The heavens only know where Tirsin is.
Where is his soul? The bay is burnt out. His heart left long ago, following his missing mate, and the so-called family that have for years not needed him. And thus it seems his life is drawing to a close. An ending... a happy ending? Well, he has had what many would envy: three wonderful children, a granddaughter, an adoring mate and now... a great-granddaughter. But all is empty when none care any more. He has all but died already, for as much as any would notice. And these morbid contemplations are not a matter of self-pity but far worse, uncompromising fact. Not a single soul in the world would so much as notice if the longstanding bay died. Why, his territory now belonged to one far more worthy, his mate and youngest son are gone, and he has not spoken to either of his other children... in years. His name is on the list of no land, and he speaks to no one.
He is no one. That is who Apathan has become. Apathan, the Evil Lead Stallion before the position even existed. The ambitious, infamous, strong-willed, bull-headed, permanently butting in where he was not wanted, the stallion who had seen and done and lived so much... and now is no one. How sad, how ignominious. If the bay Arabian had died gloriously in battle in his ferocious youth, he would have been remembered. If his life had ended beside those he loved, he would have been known... or at least someone would have cared. But as it is, his life seems just to be draining away, like water out of a leaky bucket. His soul is getting thinner, his life drawing finally to a sad, pointless close.
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