Iron hooves cut deep into the turf, each stride perfectly timed with the boy’s heartbeat. Both were racing, and he sucked in a deep breath of delight as he crouched low over the horse’s withers, rocking in time to the pounding of its hooves. Sergio had been doing this since before he could walk; he could ride a horse entirely without assistance by the time he was two years old. This particular horse, a mare by the name of Bryanne, was his favourite. He had learnt to ride on her broad back, fallen asleep between her feet, and spent his entire childhood looking into the wisdom of her liquid brown eyes.

Sergio was old beyond his years – his mother had passed away when he was only six, and his father, with no relatives in existence, had been left to raise the boy alone. Dominic had done as best he could, taking the boy with him to all the shows, teaching him to ride as he did, as an acrobat; a fearless mounted creature with an inbred love of horses. And Sergio, being tiny, weightless, and flexible, had been in his element from the moment he set foot in a ring. His father taught him all the routines, and they practised together for long hours, laughing and joking, sharing their days with Bryanne. It wasn’t such a bad life, really. Sergio was happy enough; for all that he mourned his mother, and he adored his father and his horse in equal measure. There was always food on his plate and clothes on his back, and he got to spend every moment with his best friend, Byranne, who, with him, was as gentle as the summer breeze that caresses a horse’s mane.

Dominic and Sergio began performing as a team when the boy was just eight years old. They travelled far and wide, living almost as gypsies, drawing gasps of amazement and sighs of wonder from every crowd that had the fortune to watch them. Bryanne, ever cautious, cantered easily around the small arena which had been staked out with rope, never flinching as father and son flung themselves wildly on and off her broad back, doing handstands on her rump and withers, and flipping around her steady hooves. She enjoyed the antics as much as they did, and, with her shining coat and sharp-pricked ears, she did her part in pleasing the crowd. Her favourite trick, which she had perfected with Sergio, was to rear up with him balanced on her withers in a precarious handstand. She had learned to lift herself to her hind legs in one smooth motion, and to lower herself down the same, so that the precious child on her shoulders, the one whom she adored, should stay safe and shouldn’t fall. This was the finale to their act, with Dominic on one hand beside her, and Sergio on her shoulders, and, as always, the crowd would go ecstatically wild. To the sound of their applause the mare would lower herself once more, and turn her gaze to Sergio, who would smile and ruffle her forelock, and she would know that she had done well.

After more than four years of performing with his father, Sergio, age twelve, was already a strapping lad. His child’s arms, though young, rippled with well-formed muscles, and he carried himself with a dancer’s grace. He spoke as though he was years older, for his father had never treated him like a child, but rather as an equal, and he often astounded people when his true age was mentioned, for he seemed as though almost sixteen, albeit a little shorter than average. The kids that knew him, envied him; looked up to this super-human who could balance upside down on a galloping horse’s back. They were wary of him, though, and as a result he had no friends. His only solace was his mare, who provided an ear to listen, and a soft gaze to ease his heart. Though no outsider was aware, he was only strong in body, his heart was often sore. Some nights, when Dominic woke to find the boy missing, he had found him with Bryanne, asleep between her protective hooves, his face still wet from the tears he had cried. It was nights like these, when his son was filled with sorrow, that Dominic was reminded just how young the boy was. In his sleeping face he could see it, the way he missed his mother, even sometimes wished for better things, a house, perhaps, instead of a beat-up old caravan… and Dominic would weep for his child, wishing he could do more for his son.

* * * * *

One morning dawned wet and dull, as though the colour had been washed out of the world, and Dominic rose to find his son missing again. He yawned, and stretched his powerful limbs before getting to his feet and running a hand through his dishevelled hair. He fumbled with the switch on the stove, turning it slowly back and forth until the plate came on, and placed a pot of water on to boil. Satisfied that he would have coffee shortly, he turned the rusty handle on the door of the caravan, and, with a shove, forced it to let him out into the dripping morning. Tied to a tree, Bryanne whickered a soft greeting to him, and, as he had expected, he saw his son curled up between her fore hooves. Striding through the dewy grass, he made his way to his son, who slept on, unaware of his approach. As he neared the pair, Bryanne flicked her ears back, and briefly bared her teeth at him, but he reached out to her regardless, stroking her velvety nose. She brought her ears forward again, and licked at her teeth as she sighed. Dominic smiled at her, leant one hand against her chest, and she stood steady as he bent to rouse his son.

Sergio’s eyes fluttered open, then found focus on his father’s face.

“Oh, hi dad,” the boy smiled, and Dominic put out a hand to hoist him to his feet.

“Hi,” Dominic returned his smile, “Want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Sergio replied, taking his father’s hand. Dominic pulled him upright with ease, and the boy turned to his horse.

“Thanks, Brya,” he said, stroking her muzzle. She nuzzled him with a sigh, and then gave him a shove with her nose. Sergio laughed and pushed her away, and Dominic put an arm round his shoulders as they turned back to the little caravan.

With a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, and a bucket of feed in the other, Sergio re-emerged a few moments later. Carefully, he put the bucket down for Bryanne and balanced his coffee on top of another upside-down bucket before picking up a brush and getting to work on her silky mane. They had a show in a couple of hours, and Byranne had to be looking spruce and beautiful by then; Sergio wouldn’t have it any other way. He set into her pale palomino coat with a vengeance, though it was a clean misty-gold already, working up a fine film of sweat upon his brow. So involved was he that by the time he had finally finished, his coffee was barely warm, but he drank it anyway. Sweet and black, it didn’t taste so bad, and he sipped it as though it were Heaven’s Brew. Bryanne stood contentedly beside him as he swallowed, flicking at a fly on her rump with her white, silken tail. Dozing quietly, she seemed totally unperturbed, but the boy knew she would be energetic and excited a few moments before they entered the ring. Thinking about the coming show, he suddenly realised that he still had to change; the mare was stunning, and he looked like a dirty little slave boy. Grinning, he glanced at his reflection in the mare’s water bucket, noting how his white teeth stood out in his grubby face. With a laugh, he dipped his hand in the water, sending a wave of ripples coursing through his other face, and scooped some of the cool liquid onto his cheeks. A few moments later, when the water stilled, the reflection that looked back at him was clean, and, satisfied, he went inside to don his show-clothes.

Dominic was waiting for him, and tossed the boy’s outfit at him as he walked through the door. Sergio grimaced in disapproval, and scowled at his father with mock anger. His costume was his most precious belonging in the world, next to his horse, and he didn’t appreciate the beautiful thing being tossed around like a rag.

“Da-ad, careful! You’ll tear it!” Sergio said as he leaped forward to catch it.

“I’ll just buy you a new one,” Dominic grinned, “Woven from pure gold and beset with thousands of diamonds.”

“Oh really?” Sergio scoffed with a laugh, “That’ll be the day…”

“Wouldn’t it just?” his father laughed back, and began to haul his own costume over his muscular body, “Get dressed, we’re going to be late.”

“Its all part of the performance – suspense building,” Sergio laughed, slipping into his garments. The short-sleeved, tight-fitting mustard-yellow garment fitted him well, and with the red fringing and the cheap diamantes, he looked quite the part of the daring acrobatic rider. His father, in a matching suit, was already ready to go.

“Shall we?” Dominic said, and when Sergio nodded, he shoved open the caravan door and led the way out into the gradually brightening sunshine.

This show was bigger than the others, and Sergio felt his nerves become taut as he approached the ring. Their reputation had spread, and they had been invited to perform at a county show, so there would be no roughly staked out rope ring this time. They would be performing in a proper rodeo show-ring, with a wooden fence and grandstands and everything. As he stood by the entrance, he pranced from one foot to the other, flicking his fingers and stretching his neck from side to side as he worked himself up for the moment when he had to bound into the ring. Echoing through the grandstands, a loudspeaker announced that Dominic and Sergio would be performing next, with the assistance of the lovely Bryanne. Music began to play, and Sergio felt his muscles bunch in automatic response – he had been training for this day for the last eight months. All the other shows had been warm-ups; this was their big break, the show which would gain them entrance to big horse and rodeo shows around the country, the show that would finally allow them to earn a fair amount of money. He had to get this right.

The note he was waiting for finally chimed through the speakers, and with a deep breath, Sergio launched into a long string of complicated back-flips that carried him into the ring at a smart pace. As he manoeuvred gymnastically across the ring, he heard the hoarse cheering of the crowd, felt the texture of the sand and sawdust beneath his fingers every time his hands touched the earth. He concentrated on his breathing, using each breath to time his movements, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Bryanne come cantering into the ring with his father executing a one-handed handstand upon her back. He then pushed the sight out of his mind, simply trusting that the horse and his father would be in the right place at the right time, and continued counting his flips. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen… At the last count, he gave an extra heave with his muscular fore-arms, and pushed himself high into a back-flip. Somersaulting once, he reached down for Bryanne’s back-harness as she cantered past, and, with the timing exceptional, he landed in a perfectly balanced handstand behind his farther Dominic. Ever-steady, Bryanne continued her circuit of the ring without faltering, and the two riders on her back set into the rest of their routine in earnest.

Dominic, placing his other hand on the horse’s withers, launched himself forward in a somersault over her ears, out pacing her collected canter for a split second, and landing on his hands with his legs in a splits-position in front of the horse. At the same instant, Sergio tightened his hold on the harness, and Bryanne, with effortless grace, jumped over Dominic with inches to spare. There was a collective gasp from the crowd, and then an outbreak of enthusiastic applause. As Bryanne continued her lap of the ring, Sergio performed several more tricks on her back, while Dominic flung himself acrobatically around the arena. As the performance picked up momentum, the crowd, increasingly gripped, held its breath. Dominic and the horse neared each other, at a rapid pace, and Sergio, now hanging off the mare’s side, braced himself for the next trick. He held out his hand as his father launched himself toward the boy in a single fluid movement, and Bryanne steeled herself to take the added weight. Suddenly, just as Dominic’s fingers brushed Sergio’s, a clump of sod under the mare’s hoof shifted, and she slipped. The crowd leapt to its feet in horror, as, with a cry, Dominic missed his son’s hand, and fell beneath Bryanne’s pounding hooves. With a whinny of distress, the mare tried to right herself, but she couldn’t avoid her beloved master beneath her feet. In the sudden shuddering silence, every ear in the audience heard as her left-fore hoof crashed down through Dominic’s skull. Sergio, his eyes wide in horror, watched as his father’s blood spattered up the mare’s shimmering shank; as his handsome face was churned into a bloody, unrecognisable mess. Limp with shock, his grip loosened, and he was thrown clear as the mare struggled to regain her footing. She floundered for a moment, churning up dust, and then, with a sickening cracking sound, lost her balance and went down.

The audience was frantic, and the sound filled Sergio’s head with a monotone roar that drowned his senses. He lay on his side in the grit, blood seeping from several grazes, as his tears spent themselves upon the unforgiving earth. Bryanne did not rise from where she had fallen, and Sergio could see from where he lay that her fine-boned leg stuck out at an odd angle. His father’s mangled body was twisted grotesquely around the mare’s limbs, half hidden by her heaving chest. Officials swarmed into the arena and set upon the pair like flies to a carcass, and Sergio, unable to tear his gaze away, stared with glassy eyes as they began to untangle the broken couple. Suddenly, strong hands were hauling him to his feet, and he allowed himself to be manhandled upwards, but, as Dominic’s body was finally freed from the horse, Sergio suddenly broke free with a cry and ran to his father. Stricken, he threw himself down beside Dominic, and laid his head on his bloody chest. An official tried to pull him away, and as he was pulled upright, the sight of his father’s unrecognisable face just inches from his caused violent spasms in his stomach. Making no attempt to wipe the bile from his mouth, and retching violently, he turned in desperation to his mare, seeking solace from her as he always had. The official was still holding his arm, holding him back, and as his gaze fell upon his mare he cried out in livid despair at the gun to her head. A heartbeat later, with the shot ringing in his ears, he watched as her beautiful head crumpled to the ground. With a strangled cry, the boy wrenched free from the hand restraining him and leapt towards his only friend. She made no response to his frantic pleas, and, eventually, he laid his cheek against her velvet face and wept bitter tears onto her silken hide. Tenderly, he lifted her forelock, and taking a few strands of her mane in his fingers, he gently pulled them free. With his agonized heartbeat the only sound he could hear, he cried out with a savage keen. He hugged her long, wild face close to his heart, then flung himself to his feet once again. With one last look at both the mare and his father, he turned from the horror, and ran. Behind him, frantic shouts called him back, but with nothing in his world but the pain in his heart, Sergio flew on, oblivious.

Give me freedom and give me peace,

Peace of mind, and freedom of spirit;

Let me break my chains and walk in the light,

But also in darkness, without fear.

Let me love myself, without judgement,

And be proud of my perfect parts, but also those broken;

Let me trust myself, even when I falter,

And may I find strength to be true to my own.

May my path find light to displace shadow,

Yet darkness to appreciate its counterpart;

Let me hurt none, and have no fear to be Giving –

Let me freely bestow pieces of myself on those I love,

Let me live without worry of consequence;

Though the road may be long, grant my heart strength;

Let me hold my head high and ride the storms,

And hold my hand out to those who need a friend.

May I find the equivalent when the breakers threaten,

And the courage to fall back on myself if I should find none.

Let me be gentle, but firm in my heart,

That I might be honest with myself, and those around me.

Let me learn to hold onto the strength within me,

No matter the course my life might take.

Let me be true, always, to me – without fear, remorse, or apology,

That I might leave my mark on the world – one worth remembering.

I feel like I’ve known you in a lifetime before,

Like there’s a deeper connection from days of yore;

As though there’s something between us that I can’t quite grasp,

But I’m hesitant to speak, too shy to ask…

Do you remember me, like I remember you?

This connection I’m aware of, do you feel it too?

What is it exactly; can you answer me please?

This strange recognition, these hints that tease?

I don’t understand, and I wish I did,

I feel there’s something I’m missing, something that’s hid;

Like I can see the answer, but my eyes are closed,

Like the knowledge is there, and yet, unknown…

This strangeness of feeling is tormenting me,

Like I’m kept in the dark when I wish I could see;

This feeling of knowing you, comes like a dream,

And I wonder, if I told you, would you know what I mean…?

Seems like sacrilege to let your memory fade,

So I'll let scattered fragments fall onto the page.

You were my heart and soul for many a year,

A precious memory I'll always hold dear.

Gone too soon, robbed in your prime,

Those lumo-green eyes now no longer shine;

To think last time I saw you would be the last,

My beautiful boy, how cruel Fate's Cast.

Here's to your beautiful silver self,

And the years you spent in glowing health.

Here's to the tears that dried on your fur,

The precious connection that passed in a blur.

Fly high, my sweet boy, I'll miss your gentle meow,

And though I know the house will be emptier now,

Still I'll always remember the affectionate companion you were,

And thoughts of you will ever make my heart stir.

Your infectious personality will always remain

As a piece of me in the delight I gained

Having you in my heart, my life, my home;

May the next Life's wonders be ever yours to roam.

R.I.P Hawk

I’m in love with the sound of your voice,

The rouge of your cheek, the curve of your throat.

I’m in love with you through fate, and choice,

For the smile I adore and the spark in your eye.

I’m in love with the feel of your skin,

Your tracing fingers and electric touch.

I’m in love with the person within,

Your depth of soul, your secret self.

I’m in love with the taste of your kiss,

Soft sighed whispers or a clinging embrace,

I’m in love with this feeling of bliss,

You inspire, enrapture; you set me alight.

I’m in love with every aspect of you,

Both inside and out, every piece of you;

I can’t resist love’s tide when I’m with you,

You’ve excited my heart, and I give it to you.