Annika Salmi
My hair blew out behind me, waving in the chilly autumn wind. I galloped at a speed that made me feel intoxicated with joy. Along the pebbly beach, gray, brown, beige, umber, tan pebbles hit the thighs of my chestnut mare. She whinnied as I urged her further.
“Go,” I whisper in her ear, and she takes off.
I laugh in exhilaration. Now we are riding at a speed racers would envy. The air smells like salt and cool, ocean air. My mouth feels dry– I haven’t had a drink of water in hours– but I ignore it as I soak in the cool, dusky air.
Beside me, the royal blue ocean crashes against the rocks. The dangerous sea with shades of violet and indigo lace the water as my mare gallops in the shallows. Under the murky, moody, gloomy, dusky, foggy sky, the water seems a shade darker than usual. As if I need reminding how dangerous it is out here. It smells like a storm is coming, and the roaring, raging sea and the ripping wind are only fractions of the danger the beach can become.
For now, though, I’m happy to gallop down the beach as fast as the wind on a beautiful horse.