Mirabelle sat on his bare back and up the hill they went. The pony went faster and faster to avoid his pain as she began to experience her own. Mirabelle knew he had a sore on his belly but rode him anyway. Neither of them understood why they ached. Running seemed like a cure. How could these things be happening? Her father was dead. For the first time, she truly understood the fragility of life—death is inevitable. She was strong and brave when he was alive and now afraid of everything.
The pony crested the hill and began to turn sharply to the right as Mirabelle leaned the other way. She knew what would happen next and didn’t care. Her eyes closed. She was falling and wanted the horrible ‘it’ to happen. Life had become too emotionally unbearable. In those split seconds, she didn’t think of anyone. Not her children, not her husband; not anyone. She went head over heels down onto the hard-cold hellish ground.
While she was unconscious, she dreamt of a wolf who spoke of a life worth living. When she woke minutes or more had passed, the sky looked down at her with disapproval. The pony grazed without any concern over her condition. She had only remembered closing her eyes and falling, but not hitting the ground. Does God protect us this way before we die? Maybe we don’t feel pain as we leave this world to a parallel universe we call heaven.
Mirabelle scolded herself for being so selfish; she didn’t really want to die. Her family needed her, and she was valued. Shame filled her heart. She lay on the ground without moving, her neck felt sore. There was no one around to pick her up, and she’d deliberately left her cell phone behind. She had to get up on her own, both in body and soul. She rolled over while supporting her head with her hand and sat upright. Walking up the hill and into the house, she found an ice pack in the freezer and applied it to the back of her neck. She thought about the wolf and wondered who he represented. Why had she fallen off her pony, her life was full yet overwhelming. She was wide awake in her pain and vowed to never try the wretched ‘it’ again. But, the wolf had frightened her and said we are all reincarnated after death. Mirabelle didn’t really believe those words. It was her mind playing tricks. The dream was nothing more than an unconscious delusion. Or was it?
Written by Elsa Wolf