Trust Me  

 

　 I find out abruptly that there is more to the world than just myself and my warm, small bubble of darkness. I am very disappointed.  

 

  As I begin to open my eyes, I find that I am immediately forced to squeeze them shut again. This addition to my world is far too bright. When I lift my head, I am overcome by such a sudden dizziness that I am forced to put it down again hurriedly. And when I lay still, I find that this new place is much colder than my old home. I want to go back to my nice dark and safe little bubble, but I have a feeling I won’t be going back there. I have only just begun and already face so many tribulations. Life is hard, I realize.   But as the minutes go by, I find that I am strengthening. As I lift my head, I notice that it does not wobble, rather, it stays steady. In addition, when I open my eyes, I find that the light is not quite so harsh. In fact, I make a rather interesting discovery; the brightness actually allows me to see things as they really are. It is such an improvement over inky blobs of darkness. Perhaps this place isn‘t quite as bad as I thought.  

 

  Just as I find I am enjoying myself and my luxuries, the darkish figure that I now realize must be my mother stands. I look at the lumps holding her up. They look much thinner than her main bulk; how she manages not to topple over, I do not know. But as I watch her, looking down at me with her eyes full of pride, I realize that I want to do the same. I want to show her up, show her that she’s not the only intelligent one. Also, I feel a bit peculiar around my own bulk, and something tells me that to fix it, I need to stand.   I carefully stretch my foreleg out, making a big show of it. I then repeat this same, flashy procedure with the rest of my legs. Slowly, steadily, I push on the ground, trying my best to lift my bulk up. I immediately realize how spindly my legs are. No fair! Why are my legs so out of proportion compared to my mother’s? She has an unfair advantage over me! Snorting softly, I lay back on the ground, half resting, half pouting.   When my energy returns, I try again, this time attentively minding my skinny legs. Slow and steady…  

 

  To my utter discomposure I find myself falling in that patch of dirt many times.   Yet, against all odds, I finally find the perfect combination for balance. For a moment I just stand there, head held high. When my mother looks at me I hope she realizes how incredibly ingenious I am for discovering how to stand all by myself. I take a step forward, but at once I feel myself beginning to fall. However, I am proud to say that I catch myself brilliantly and my mother does not even notice my small mishap.   In fact, I find that my mother does not seem to notice anything I do now. Whenever I near her, she lifts her head high and moves away quickly. To my displeasure she moves quite faster than I can at the moment. I shuffle as quickly as I can in her direction, but she continually dashes away.   What have I done, I wonder? I don’t know what I look like, save for my spindly legs; am I repulsive to her? No, I correct myself. She has bore with me this whole time, why would she go away now? Have I disappointed her? Or more likely, shown her up? Yes, yes, that must be it. I did so magnificently at standing that I have shamed her into thinking she is not worthy of my presence.  

 

  The peculiar feeling in my bulk grows stronger though, more painful. I nicker to my mother kindly, hoping she’ll know that I am merciful enough to allow her near my aura of brilliance. She continues to dart away though. I find myself almost begging her to come near to me, but she ignores my pleas. At one point, she slows down enough that I am able to come to her side. But when I find myself reaching my muzzle under her, she nips me. Hard. I squeal and dart away swiftly. If there’s one positive thing about this experience, it’s that I am now able to gallop without hesitation. I find I’d rather be back in my lowly “stage one” part of life, though, and be able to vanquish the pain in my torso than run any day.   When I realize my mother has much more energy than myself, I give up and topple onto the ground. I mean to do slowly as to not be harmed, but my fatigue overpowers me. I continue to nicker though, trying to make myself sound pitiful and appealing. I find that my mother can be very stubborn. It irritates me. 　     　 I do not remember falling asleep, but I know when I wake up. I am quite angry, for I realize that sleep is quite the same as being in the dark place. Sleep is probably the happiest thing that happened to me. Blinking my eyes in the dim light, I turn my head to the sound that woke me. What I find surprises me very much. I and my mother are not the only moving things! It’s unbelievable!  

 

  In addition to myself and my mother are a new type of creature. They remind me of my lengthy, thin legs, so I decide they must be called “spindlies.” I begin to examine these new creatures. When one of them stands straight, they look just like one of my appendages, or perhaps one of the long brown things that line the ground. But when the spindlies move, the illusion of being one bulk dissolves. They appear as to be standing constantly on their rear legs; but how they manage to stay balanced, I am unsure. They are so short as well, much smaller than my mother. They intimidate me though, for I am much shorter than my mother as well.   As I study them, I easily pinpoint the one making a large racket. It seems angry, flailing its arms about in an northerly fashion. The spindly is fairly taller than the others, but not quite so tall as my mother. It has an abnormal yellow tuft of… something on his head. I can’t quite tell what it is. If it is a mane, some of it must have fallen off, for it stops short right at the top of his head. I wonder how it keeps flies away.  

 

  Suddenly, I am afraid, for the noisy man is coming my way. I go to lift myself up, but I am far too weak, and I can only manage a small grunt of displeasure. My mother runs away. Lucky her, the one with perfectly proportioned legs.   The spindly draws nearer to me still, and now I see that it is holding something. What is it, I wonder? Is it something painful? Have I done something wrong? I nicker for my mother, but she doesn’t come to my aid. She just stands at the far side of the long brown things, staring at both me and the spindly. I continue to nicker frantically, occasionally my calls turning into squeals. Come to me, mother! You don’t have to be afraid of me just because I can stand better than you!  

 

  When the spindly finally reaches me, I try to squirm away, but he is faster than me. He extends his arm to my side, and I brace myself for the pain. It does not come. Instead, I feel a gentle caress, and surprisingly I like it. I stop squealing for my mother and stay silent. The spindly does something strange with his mouth, making the edges curl up, but it brings no harm to me, so I associate this as “good.” The spindly then places his other arm over my neck and pulls. I have no idea what it is doing, so I stand. Perhaps I can get away from him this way. Even while being supported by the spindly, I still find myself weak and dizzy.   As soon as I am somewhat stable, the spindly places his… other, tinier legs… near my mouth, gently prying it open. He then places something in my mouth. Its texture is weird, both smooth and rough at the same time. I wiggle my tongue around it, jiggling the bendy thing in my mouth. All at once, something warm and wet drips out of it. I spit it out, thinking I hurt it. But as my tongue absorbs the creamy liquid, I realize, this must be what I need. It tastes so good, I know it must be it! So when the spindly tries to pry my mouth open again, I surprise him by jerking my head forward and snapping my jaw shut on the bottle! Oh, how grand it feels to be full!  

 

  I suck in the life-giving substance for so long that the spindly has to pull and tug at it until it escapes the clutches of my jaw. No! Don’t take it away! I’m almost certain there are a few drops left! I protest, but not for long. The warm milk, I decide to call it, although filling, also makes me drowsy. My eyes flutter ever so gently, and I decide to lay on the ground. Just a minutes, I think. Just a few minutes, and then I can go find the spindly. Perhaps it will have more milk… Just a few more minutes… 　 　       When I wake, I am still feeling weak but considerably better. I am angry with myself, however for falling asleep, for now the sun is much higher in the sky than earlier. What if the spindly came by and I missed my meal? Will it come back again? But I find that the heat the sun brought with it is comforting, enjoyable. It feels natural, perhaps similar to something my mother lacked to supply to me. For a few moments, I simply bask in it, taking in the precious warmth., but I am interrupted by a

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