The Horse with two heads

When I was a senior in high school an idea hit me for a story that would turn out to be a life long obsession. Each time I started writing it, it grew and expanded. Now It has taken on a life of its own and has over whelmed my ability's in many ways. I would have to say that if I'm a good writer, it's because of that story. The problem was that I never knew how to start it. Well... I think I found my starting point.

This story is part of a collection of story's called "The Lost Works of Abbn Ehr" and its from my fantasy series called "Tales of Illandrea"

The Lost Works of Abbn Ehr

The Horse with Two Heads: Part One

I attest to you as you read my words that I am past from this world. Yes, dead! My old goat told me that death is the only true purpose of writing “If this wasn't true” he told me “Then I would tell them myself!” Since death is irrevocably the only absolute, I write this. 

        I can only hope that my death was not one of old age (since such events haven’t yet transpired.) However, I can only hope that my passing was not quiet, but barbaric. The old goat  said “A riotous death is far better, for you will have stood when other's reviled...”. yet he concluded "or its meaning lies in the burning out of an unworthy soul engaged in stupidity" I imagine a beheading for my self.
        For now, my heart is full of adventures that my body has never enjoyed. The roads of life are well worn inside my mind. My goat was very wise to say “The mind is the only worthwhile mode of travel"  he also said it was the most dangerous because“Wondering too far results in a rare return”.

As I search my memories of non-adventure I remember a conversation I imagined I had with a horse with two heads. I will not bore you with all of the conversation and discourses of my mind, instead I will write the story that was formed by the end of that pretend interview.


Part two

The Brow

      I stood as still as I could, but it was staring at me; the biggest uni brow I had ever seen. It was like a gruesome accident complete with rubberneckers. There wasn't a person that didn't slow to look.

      It seemed not to notice any body else but me, in fact, I think it waved at me. Just when I thought matters couldn't get any worse, it started to move toward me. All I could think of was Burt from Sesame Street and now I had his laugh stuck in my head as this abhorrence came closer.

      I didn't know what to do, at first I looked for an escape route, but I was blocked in by people and the isles of the store we were in. I did the only thing that any true survivalist would do, I looked for a weapon.
     
      I dug my hands deep into my pockets and strangely enough I found some tweezers (If you have a wife and kids then you will see that this isn't so strange; I also had two pony tail holders, lip smackers, a half eaten sucker and one Lego block) by this time the brow was closing in, so I pounced, and flung those tweezers around like a dagger.


      "Die, die, die!" I yelled as I started plucking with fear fueled anger."There must only be two!” I screamed in desperation as I fought with this disgusting foe. It fought back, and for a moment I thought it was going to get the upper... hand, but I persevered and continued to remove Burt's spirit from off this face...
   
"Oh?" 

     I thought for the first time. There was a face under all of that hair. Now I was a liberator, and had a different mission; protect and serve.

       I would be a liar by saying that the woman who belonged to this face wasn't down right pissed, because she was. And this shocked me for a moment, did she not see that her eye brow was only just one dark black brow? And that it was growing into her eyes? Why was she not grateful? Then it hit me. Duh! Some people just don't know when they are suffering.

      Its like Stockholm's syndrome, some people are so used to the crappy situations they are in (or created for themselves) that they will defend there own right to suffer. I know that this syndrome applies to victims of kidnapping, but don't we all kidnap our selves from contentment and happiness with our own pride or stupidity? Understanding that this woman didn't really know that she was suffering I became the bigger person and said.

“Mam, that was the ugliest eye brow that I have ever seen, so... you’re welcome." Then I gave her the tweezers. I took the shocked look on her face as a thank you.

The fence

I have found that the first time I do any thing, that I am terribly afraid.

I remember the first time I ever rode a bike; It was far to big for me. I couldn't sit on the seat and push the pedals at the same time. I was in a panic that first time I climbed the fence to mount it. It was extremely difficult to try to pedal, steer and hold on to that fence at the same time. I can only now imagine my pure terror the first time I let go of my safety fence and rode free into the street, as that car came, and the horror as I over corrected and flipped that monster. I remember my thoughts though as I layed in the gutter contemplating my life "That was awesome".

Some times I think back at my childhood and wonder, what would life be like if the risks I took now were just as reckless as they were when I was a kid? I'm not talking about dangerous, life threatening risks, I mean for things that I just want to do but feel that I'm too busy for. I didn't seem to care about those things while I was building a grocery sack parachute, imagining myself floating safely off the roof, I just said "Well, now I know" while pulling branches from my pants.

I guess my point is that life is way too short to let a little thing like fear get in the way of living. Its time to let go of my fence again.