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Silver Legacy-Chapter 2

Chapter 2
Waking Up
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I had nightmares. I seemed to be walking in darkness one minute, white light the next. Strands of brightly colored light twisted through the air, threatening to strangle me in their beautiful clutches.
I could hear voices, though I didn’t know who they belonged to or what they were talking about. Sometimes they seemed to call my name.
I could also hear hoofbeats and whinnies, and I was sure I saw King, which scared me most of all. I drifted between dark and light for what seemed like an eternity, always hearing hoofbeats, trying not to think about what seeing King here might mean.
Then I had a body again.
I could feel a bed under me, and a blinding white light was burning through my eyelids. I opened my eyes and saw a white ceiling. I heard the beeping of monitors and hushed voices. I turned my head as much as my oxygen mask would allow and saw metal rails.
A hospital.
A clock sat on the table beside the hospital bed. It read; 4:45 p.m., Thursday, December 26th.
I had been here—wherever here was-- for four months!
I tried to think back. Why was I here?
Then I remembered sun. And hoofbeats. And terrible pain. And a beautiful red-brown horse, lying hurt in the grass.
Tears filled my eyes and I let out a strangled sob, then gasped in pain, cupping my wire-free hand over my ribs.
The nurse rushed in and gently replaced the bulky mask with a smaller tube that went across my nose and enabled me to talk. Unfortunately, it also enabled me to cry.
Tears pouring down my face, I sobbed, then gasped, trying to regain my breath.
Pain shot through my ribcage and the nurse firmly put her hands on my shoulders.
“Lisa,” she said in a gentle yet authoritative voice, “you need to calm down or you will hurt yourself worse.”
“My horse,” I gasped. “My horse. Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he? How do you know he’s alive?” I demanded.
“The vet has been giving us updates every three hours,” she told me patiently.
“I don’t believe you,” I spat, crying again.
“Easy, easy,” she soothed, holding my hand. “When you’re ready, I’ll call the vet and you can talk to her. Okay?”
I just nodded. I couldn’t talk about King any more without crying.
“I’ll call your mom and trainer and tell them you’re awake,” the nurse said, gathering up my oxygen mask and briskly walking out the door.
My head ached slightly, but I was afraid to sleep. What if I went back to the dream world where I had heard hoofbeats and strange whinnies? What if, this time, I never left it? No, I couldn’t fall asleep.

I was moved home a long month later. I wasn’t allowed to run, ride, swim, or do anything that might re-fracture my skull. The most strenuous thing I was allowed to was walking around.
I had to sleep with pillows on either side of my head and at the back so I wouldn’t hit my head on anything if I turned over while I slept. I was in physical therapy to try and get my right leg back to normal after healing from its compound fracture.
In school, the hallways were like death traps for me.
My boyfriend of two years, Kevin, had left me after the accident, and I tried not to think that if he were still here, he would walk in front of me, blocking the sea of hurried students from crashing into me.
Life was really awful. I had to be on my guard every single second, reminding myself not to run, jump, or skip.
I was constantly watching for anything I might hit my head on.
Three long, empty weeks after I was moved home, I got to see King.
He looked terrible.
Limping and bandaged, hooked up to an IV, once-beautiful bay coat scraggly and covered in small abrasions, I almost couldn’t look at him. I could handle the sight of just any horse like this, or I could handle the sight of King like this if I didn’t think about how he’d looked
before the accident; strong, kind, energetic, observant, sweet, and majestic. That was King as I knew him.
To see that horse, so full of life before, on fluids and covered in cuts and bandages, with no interest in life at all, was heartrending. However, he pricked his ears and whinnied when he saw me. I walked up and hugged his red-brown neck. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to him.
He bumped my back with his chin, as if he was telling me not to worry about it.
“I’ll help with his rehab,” I found myself saying.
“What?”
My mom sounded shocked.
“I’ll rehab him. Don’t make me explain.”
I couldn’t be subjected to analysis over this decision, but I knew that by helping to heal King, I would heal myself. We had always been partners.
Why stop now?



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This article has 3 comments. Post your own!

CloudWanderer said...
Jul. 24, 2010 at 1:04 pm:
You're good writing about emotion--and I love that! It depends, but most of the time I like readers being able to connect with characters. Some writings are so analytical and cold. No fun! Lol oh, and i thought if a horse got banged up really bad they had to be put to sleep?
 
Phoenix611 replied...
Aug. 4, 2010 at 9:38 am :
not all the time. if there's a really bad leg break or fractured withers or neck or poll or any kind of spinal injury, yes, but there are horses who can recover from leg fractures.
 
Phoenix611 replied...
Aug. 4, 2010 at 9:40 am :
haha and thanks!!! i seriously thought no one on here was gonna know what i was writing about with these
 
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