It’s a massive
lake with boats, and floating living pontoons. We’re driving out on a small flat boat and I get dropped off
by request and habit/tradition.
The boat pulls away, leaving me swimming and treading water. I realize in just a few seconds that I
won’t be able to make it, and call out.
“Daaad!” It’s not very
loud, but my call reaches the boat speeding away and I see it turn around. I’m picked up and cannot tell if my Dad
and boatsmen are embarrassed by me, or just frustrated that they’re now behind
schedule. They drop me back home,
a floating pontoon with a few ‘back alleys’ and a rickety baseball
diamond. I expertly jump in the
water behind the baseball diamonds bleachers, and casually climb up the back of
the bleachers like monkey bars. My
dad’s boat speeds away. Through
the bleachers, hidden, I can see a few kids talking, laughing. About me! I climb up the lake scummy soaked bleachers to get a better
position to hear and see them.
What were they saying about me?
Why?- I had done nothing wrong to them! Maybe because I was a water-hick kid from a water-hick
family/clan.. and not even a good one at that!..
It’s an
1800’s-London-style street and I’m standing under what appears to be a massive
wooden arch. It has just
rained. I can hear people calling
out, “Don’t do it, ___” (horse’s name??).
I turn and see a horse and rider at the base of this wooden
rainbow. They are looking up,
plotting their course. I follow
their gaze and realize that the first half of the wooden arch is a ladder of
sorts. At the very top, there is a
large gap, and then the back side is a smooth ‘runway’. They will attempt to jump the gap, 100
feet over our heads. A wave comes
over me. I am here for this horse,
but not to see it jump. Something
else… They race towards the base of the wooden arch, and charge up the
ladder. It becomes so steep they
slow down a bit. They crowd is
murmuring and crying until the gap when there are screams and gasps. I am looking straight up at this point
but my view is botched by the last remaining raindrops falling and the sun
poking out of clouds. I don’t see
the landing, nor do I hear a sound.
It must have been a good landing, I assume. Yet, the ‘runway’ is smooth and in a second I watch the
horse and rider come sliding on their side, down the other side of the rainbow,
slamming neck first into a safety-wall.
The crowd is screaming as a ready handler jabs a needle into the horses
hind leg from the end of a pole.
They’re putting it down immediately. Almost as soon as they administer the shot, the jockey is
beginning to fold a sheet over its body.
They already had sheets on the runway area! But then, the horses legs kick, it’s struggling against the
drugs. The crowd screams louder
and you can tell some people are running away, some are getting sick. The handlers hurry to setup another
injection, but fumble and trip.
The jockey is putting is body weight on top of the horse, trying to keep
it down until the handlers get the next shot in, but the horse is gaining
strength. It must be in
shock. As it struggles to it’s
feet, the handlers still trying to get the needle attached to the end of the
pole, 2 other handlers, large brutes, dive into the fray with machetes. They start hacking at the horses hips,
shoulders and neck. The crowd is
in horror, kids are screaming. The
horse is back down to its knees as it is getting sliced up like a tree getting
chopped down. Finally the second
shot gets jabbed and the horse goes down.
It doesn’t move any more after that. The air is heavy as it seems whatever people are still
remaining in the small street have held their breath. A few kids are crying, their sounds echoing through the
streets as their mothers whisk them away, cursing themselves for ever thinking
this was a good idea. The sun
shines through, leaving the shadow of a massive arch over the town’s west
face. What was this horse’s
significance that I was supposed to see it? I don’t believe I was supposed to see it’s death. It seems I was almost even supposed to
learn from it??
