Celestial Noir

I was just a baby, still growing. But I was a Filly, and that meant I had to prove myself early. Fillies don’t get time, we get pressured to win, to be worthy. So they trained me early and asked for more than my young body could give. 

On the day it happened, I tried my best. I always did. I broke from the start and ran, even though I could tell my body wasn’t ready. 

This was only my second race. 

I didn’t even make a furlong. 

I felt my leg snap beneath me – sudden, excruciating. One minute I was running, the next I couldn’t stand. But by then it didn’t matter. I’ve heard the stories; I knew what was coming. 

I had just turned two. 

I never got older. I never grew stronger. I never got the chance to be a horse – no racing, no expectations, no weighing my worth in furlongs and timing sheets.  

There are so many like me, especially fillies, asked to give everything before we even have it to give. 

My life was mine, but my death is on them.  

My name was Celestial Noir. I was someone.