Back in the days, they used to call me “Vibrant Red”, now, I stand here alone, rested against this old white wall, within a small barn with openings either end. Oh so many stories I can tell you about my journey’s. My life started back in the early 19th Century, resting on my shoulders was a hard wooden cart, pulled along by our furry friend. There were two of us back then, either side, catching eyes at each other, rolling through mud, hard ground, wet grass. Our colour was the highlight in a dull village, they used to put a black mark on us to ward off all evil.
Over time, the wood started getting old, lines started appearing across its body, sounds of pain would ring out, death was approaching, mother nature had been cruel to it. I still recall, the two of us being detached, the wooden cart being laid to rest, chopped into pieces and burnt, it still served a purpose till the very end.
…I never knew what happened to my other, they say someone took it, guess we wouldn’t ward off all evil. I guess I was of no real use then, one couldn’t pull the world alone could it? So many walls I have rested against thereafter, so many barns I have lived in, so many smells I have encountered. I’m still vibrant, inside, some redness on the cheeks you may say.
But I guess not all’s lost, a bit of a celebrity I am, kids and grown-ups having their pictures taken beside me. Hey there was this crazy guy taking pics of me once, whispered something about writing his thoughts, crazy fool.
*Image taken at Godstone Farm, Surrey, UK.