Sham
Fading in I don’t know where I am at, what place or time is unknown. What I do see is amazing. I am surrounded by horses, specifically mares and foals. All around me, Arabian type horses.
Their beauty is unreal. I feel a connection to them; I am related to these magical creatures. My family owns them. Some of them are running past me, their flowing manes and stride is breathtaking.
I am looking around for the time and location. I realize it possibly could be Egypt, long ago. I don’t see pyramids, but the landscape looks Egyptian. I will have to look for a year marker of some type of method to date this life.
I walk over to a huge, lush pasture and there is one amazing horse. I feel a great love for him. He is prancing passed and I feel such joy in my heart for this animal to be in my life.
He is a stallion. He is a golden copper color with a gorgeous snow-white mane and tail and white stockings on all legs. His name is Sham. His body and movement are like none I have seen before.
He has a tiny, chiseled head and big wide brown eyes. He produces not only his conformation but his personality as well that makes everyone love him so much and his babies are the same and popular.
My family owns and has bred this line of horses for many human generations, carefully choosing the best of the best for generations of my ancestors.
We supply horses to the royal family; our family is a very big deal; we are rich and the men run the family business like a giant corporation.
We only sell the very best horses to the Pharaoh, who is a horse connoisseur, and he buys the best of the best to ride and enjoy, every year he has first choice of the spectacular new babies and finished trophy horses. I have been to the palace many times to present amazing horses that cost a fortune.
They are not only beautiful but superbly trained. These are personal horses, I mean they are not intended to pull chariots, carts or wagons. They are intended to be pampered and ridden or visually enjoyed from special locations in green pastures to watch the movement which is effortless.
I am blessed to be here, and I am a kind, gentle soul. I am a handsome teenage boy. It is my pleasure to watch Sham being groomed each day, I find it very relaxing and enjoyable. The motion and techniques of the different brushes, bathing and maintaining him is a full time job. He shines like glass.
I find it very relaxing to sit in the shade of a date palm and watch Sham’s every move.
Tonight, I am awakened to screaming in the night, men are running around. There is chaos in the house. It takes me a moment to hear what the screaming is about.
Our massive barn is on fire. It contains all the very best trophy horses. The mares and foals are in another area, so they are safe. But Sham is in the barn. I grab my pants and custom-made riding boots; panic fills my mind.
I must hurry to see what is happening and find Sham, and I rush for the front door of the big house I live in. As I open the massive wooden door, I can see the sky glowing like daytime from the flames. The barn is burning so hot.
I immediately run towards the barn as fast as I can.
I must find Sham.
If he is inside, I cannot leave him.
I instinctively do not feel the danger that I am in, I am too focused on saving Sham.
The front barn doors are open, but no one is doing anything. I rushed in to see a wall of fire and timber crashing and breaking. There is a loud roar from the fire and the building is getting ready to collapse. I frantically search for Sham in the smoke.
Finally, I find him in the distance, he has his head out his stall door, he is rearing and jumping around trying to get out. I wonder why no one has turned these horses loose. They could have been saved, and I would not have to take such a great risk.
As myself I realize it is too dangerous. No one has entered under fear of death.
But, without thinking too long, I dash into the barn and am immediately surrounded by fire as the barn comes down on us all and I fade to black. I do not remember anything else.
I am back to myself and out of breath. I am aware that the fire was arson by a competitor, and nothing else. I suspect the employees were bribed to leave Sham and the other trophy horses inside the barn. It feels right.
Different thoughts run through my mind from my childhood, and I recall the first time I heard the word, Sham. I had a pony that I would ride with the local riders.
One day a new rider approach with a dark brown Arabian mare, she tells us that her name is Sham. Creepy crawlies run down my spine and I stare at the mare. I am running the name through my mind, but I don’t think too much of the moment, and we move on.
The time frame in Egypt is still unknown.