Laura Gibson - "Spirited"

A cowboy listens to his monologuing horse, "...through the whole forest. But I don't think anyone heard. We all just pretended nothing had happened and went on about our business. If you ask me, that's what one ought to do, go about your business and focus on surviving, because freedom is a thing not to be mucked about with. I mean.." the horse pauses, realizing what he's said. "I mean freedom can kind of chain you down in a way, really, you hold onto it so fervently. It's not as if anyone really enjoys being free, they're always too concerned about losing it." The cowboy sips his water. "I guess it's like anything, I guess. You have to enjoy what you have, and you can't trouble your mind too much about circumstances, because if you could change them you would. Wouldn't you? I would." They saunter slowly, and it's dawn.

"You ever been to Montana?" says the horse, absently. "Gee, I'd love to go to Montana. A free and open land, totally free and untouched. And every year I hear it freezes over and all the horrible things that happened in the stench of the summer completely disappear for months. You get to start fresh, you know?"

And now the light is harsh as it is in the morning, and the horse and the cowboy have stopped to rest in the bright bright morning light. "I bet I would have invented the steam train if I'd been asked to. I simply didn't think there was a need for it, but if I'd been thinking about it in that way, I suppose I would have come up with the idea just as much as the next one. It seems pretty obvious to me, though I don't pretend to be an engineer, I certainly couldn't build a bridge, those things puzzle me. What puzzles me most is: why isn't everything a bridge? If a bridge is good to walk on, if it keeps you off the rocks and steep hills and dirt and water, why isn't it all bridges, everywhere? That's what really puzzles me."

"Horse," said the cowboy, finally, his first words in days. "Enough."

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