I met her when she was three. I was walking through the neighbourhood, when she looked at me, and smiled. I felt magic once again.
I met her on this place called earth where most people were blind to me or refused to see me. But my reflection in her eyes lit up the street. I hadn’t felt that much admiration since my babies were young and looked at me like I was their best friend. She grabbed my hair and pulled me home.
Oh, but that was many years ago, and now I am fading. The more colourful her hair, the darker her cloths, the more skull earrings she wears, the further away, the duller in colour I become; the more I fade away.
I ask myself if I will still "be” when she finally stops smiling at me? The last couple weeks it’s only just as she falls asleep and as she wakes up, that I can tell her stories and they create dreams, sometimes she still believes them.
Yesterday, when she was fighting with her mother I reached out and messed with her hair. Her hand went through me and brushed me away like I was the wind, not the friend she used to believe in.
Now she has a boy over, he tells her stories and touches her hair.
Then this afternoon he told her he really liked her best friend. She slammed her bedroom door with me on the outside. I discovered I had faded away so much I could walk right through the door.
For a moment she saw me, and I became more real than I had ever been before. My mane flowing in the breeze from the open window, my tail swooshing, my horn braded and magic.
“Come on lets go for a ride,” I said. She climbed up on my back and I pranced around her room flying over the bed and dancing in front of the mirror. She laughed with joy and I knew it wasn’t the end.
I let her fall on the bed while her mother knocked on the door. Out the window was a rainbow, although there had been no rain, and I knew it was time to follow all the bright colours.
“It’s okay” she said “I got it from here.”