A Short Story

The next minute I felt a hand on my shoulder completely pulling me like a ragdoll back into the ditch. I could still hear the agony in the dead soldier’s voice. Then Larry exclaimed, “GET YOURSELF TOGETHER HAYES!” and began to listen to Lt. Arthur on what to do next. They were shooting at us from a small farmhouse to our northeast. All around us was as flat ground so we needed a diversion. Cover fire was ordered and we began to approach a bundle of trees near the farm house. Still recovering from the horror, I just witnessed, I ran for my life to a nearby tree where we were supposed to take cover.

Leading the horse to the adjoining pasture, Jackson buttoned his coat, put on his gloves, pulled his stocking hat over his ears and put his cowboy hat over the top Since it was March and there was still a good bit of snow on the ground, he didn’t intend to go far, it was too cold for that. All he wanted was to get the feel of the horse and see how well he responded to him as a rider. For his first ride, he already had quite the audience on the other side of the fence. He mounted the horse and had quite the audience on the other side of the fence for his first ride. Taking the reins, he mounted his horse and queued him into a walk using his voice and legs. Once they were going he put the horse through his paces, first at a trot and then a full

Everybody’s eyes were on me as if I was the only living thing for miles. Silence filled the air of the huge coliseum, so quiet that you could hear breathes of each individual. There were hundreds of people sitting in the stands. Even better there were thousands of people watching on the live web cam. It was a cool October morning, and the sun was shining brightly. I woke up and could hear the birds chirping, like they were sending me a sign that it was going to be a great day. The sun was not strong enough to beat the brisk air which was blowing. I had not slept well that night, nor any night that week actually. After all I was about to be showing at the largest single breed horse show in the world, the Quarter Horse Congress. I had been practicing that entire year for this very moment. I literally suffered through blood, sweat, and tears. Nothing in the entire world could stop me at this point. Even if there was a zombie apocalypse, I would slay them all just to have this very

I tune my ears to listen for the click of the pen as I force my fingers to work, my ears buzz tuning out the sound of guns shooting into the distance. My sweaty fingertips nervously grip the pen as I watch the scary scene unveil before my eyes. The sound of swords piercing skin was too unbearable. My eyes widen as I see many men lying on the floor with pools of blood surrounding them. Their ghastly faces burning in my brain as I try to look away. The men in blue collide with the men in plain clothes, then more plainclothes come charging up to the hill where the men in blue were. Two men from each side stand in the front of their people, each proudly holding a flag. The confederate flag and the union flag were shown with pride as the men holding the flags were taken down by their opponents.

Gottlieb Ellsworth opens his eyes in a disoriented state, feeling woozy from the constant jarring motion of the horse’s strides and sickly from staring at the rapidly moving ground. He hung over the horse’s back with his limbs restrain, shifting back and forth on his stomach, feeling its coarse hair tear into his thin-skinned. “Where am I? What is happening?” he mumbles. “Release me at once.”

The boom of artillery fire and the crack of lead bullets being propelled at lethal velocities out of the smooth barrels seventy-five yards away thundered over the sweet sound of Union drums, while the gun smoke obscured the view of salvation; the glorious Union flag. Roger Cutler, alongside his artillery division, was experiencing shell-shock, stunned by the barrage of enemy fire. He laid there, amidst the utter cacophony and violence, fading in and out of consciousness.

The young cowboy was barely learning how to be an actual cowboy. The young cowboy had a horse but the horse was not completely his until he knew how to ride it. It was still his father’s, his father had two horses one from his father that had recently passed away in tragic way his own animals escaped and his horse came after him and

Once we brought Dugan home, I quickly discovered my ardour for horseback riding. Every morning, I would groggily roll out of bed at five o’clock, just as the beginnings of a sunrise hid between cracks of the tall pine trees on the property, and ride him until my mother summoned me inside for breakfast. Before long, I began entering riding competitions at the local fair, from which I received many bright purple participation ribbons that I proudly displayed on the otherwise empty wall space in my dull

Today I watched Robert Shaw and his troops stomp onto the battlefield to face their enemy. Their faces were calm, but somehow I could feel all of their emotions by looking into their eyes. As the first battle began I heard the loud noise that was created by the charge of hundreds of thousands of men. As I stood looking up in the sky I saw the high ball passing dangerously close overhead and its trembling thud against trees, earth, and bone was dangerous. After the battle I got to the camp; the sounds of battle exhausted me and some of the men from their sleep, the call was an important aspect of the Civil War. The call determined when a soldier woke up, went to bed, or charged. The March was very difficult for me because it's non stop

The keypad to the barn door was cold to the touch as i entered the code into the lock. As i entered the barn, the smell of hay and horses flooded the air. The smell reminded me of why i love this as much as i do. I walked to my horse's stall with a handful of apple flavored treats, and waited until her velvety nose and cat like whiskers filled the palm of my hand to take her treats. She blew her warm breath at me and the musical munching of the treats filled the crisp air around us. The horses in the stalls around us are creating the white sound munching on their hay, and the barn cats run silently past on the pads of their feet, hunting for their next meal. All the tack closets sit full of freshly oiled bridles and saddles, and freshly washed

Countless hours have been spent in the saddle practicing for horse shows. The late summer nights practicing in the sandy stable. The scorching days spent going ceaselessly in circles around the practice ring. Despite the dirt and sweat, I was doing what I loved most.

Quietly, Dustin pulled his medium-sized steer rope around the steer and tied it loosely. Soon, the time came. Adrenaline rushed, everything blurred. Hastily, he let himself down onto the back of the steer. He tied his shaking hand onto the soft rope. He slid forward onto his hand. Shaking, he said, “I’m ready.” His mind spoke the whisper through his tightly pressed lips. “Okay!” he yelled.

As I inhaled I could feel the fresh air running into my lungs. I could smell the horses surrounding me. I could feel the gentle, forgiving breath of my horse ever so slightly ease into my hand. It was a cold show morning at the barn. I tacked up my horse. Then I slipped the bridle over my horse’s ears and stepped out into the rising sun of the dawn. As I swung into the saddle, I could tell that the show was going to be fantastic!

In the viewfinder of my camera I had at last framed the one thing that I most longed to catch in my lense. The horse had to have been at least eighteen hands high. Probably 6 feet at the withers of his neck. He was huge. The biggest I had seen. His lustrous black coat glistened in the torrid sun. His long, wavy mane and tail were beautifully groomed into a slight wave. The feathers on his fetlocks danced with the wind. The alert, ebony eyes were to browsing the land as he pranced atop the hill. His burl hooves were meticulously placed every stride he took. His broad shoulders pursued so much power. The horse’s muscular body was topped off with ears that are just slightly curled in. You could just see the tops of his knees when he pranced around

The acoustics of woodpeckers carving into the wood is like a jackhammer. Birds singing to the tune of Moonlight Sonata. The sacchariferous smell of fresh cut Pine trees and the angelic look of Mother Nature at her sanserif looks like the land of the Avatar. The steel horse was whiter than fresh snow in Alaska. The rest of the colors were as pretty as the American flag. The tires were as black as charcoal. The powertrain on the steel horse revved like the irascibility of a muscular rodeo bull in Texas. It was the first horse that I ever rode. When I first got on it I could feel the roar of the engine like I was riding a tiger in the jungle.