Creative Writing: The Horse

The applause of lightning shakes me to the very core, the anticipation of what's to come and more. The pelting liquids, washing our sins away. Blocks of destruction tower over the flat rock where the toxic monsters prowl and roar. My black bag feels heavy against my pale, numb fingers. My damp hair sticks to my itchy neck, red with my groping long nails.

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

I leaned over the side of my saddle and whispered to him. “Leave it alone this time. The men are tried and they did well today.”

My heart leapt in my throat- I did my best to try and regulate my breathing so I wouldn’t give away my position with massive, choking gulps of air. Closing my eyes, I tried to re-collect blissful memories, ones that were far away from this state of affairs. I couldn’t calm down; this was so bad- what was I going to do? His steps were getting closer; they were getting louder. I panicked, I panicked.

A hopeful gleam in her eyes, Moira smiled. "I will keep that in mind," she said as she twitched the reigns just enough to stir the two horses from their peaceful doze.

It was a bright and crisp day in Texas. Nearby whips cracked and hooves crunched over the gravel path. I was sitting a top Bucky, a beautiful buckskin pony whom I loved. It was first competition since I sprained my back one year ago.

In the dusk of a summer Saturday evening, a trickle of light streams through the overhead leaves. One particular horse poses beneath a canopy of towering Adirondack oaks, most of which are only rivaled by the antique racetrack in age. Only a few fans are all that remains of the crowd that adorned the grandstand the hour before, with dreams to witness history. The few that linger lean enthusiastically over the barn barricade that had once struggled to restrain the appreciative masses and masses, only for the opportunity to catch a glimpse of this particular thoroughbred in the distance. But this horse didn’t win today. Today’s victor grazed out of his stall rows down, seemingly unnoticed. The sky, once a brilliant blue, has turned darker with

I told Papaw about how they were so interested in my story and I asked if they could meet the horses too. Papaw thought for a minute and then said “I think I can make that happen.”

I disliked having to wait. As soon as the final nail was hammered in, my mother took me to the closest ranch, which was 45 minutes away, in order to purchase a horse. It was a rather old place surrounded by overgrown grass and wobbly white fencing, but lovely nonetheless. My mother talked to the owner as I marvelled over the beautiful horses grazing in the lush, green fields. Their names were engraved in a metal slate on each of their hooves. I ended up deciding on a chestnut thoroughbred named Dugan. I chose him because his black tail was the only one that fell freely out of all of the horses. The rest had theirs folded into smooth braids or intricate twists.

The howling of coyotes, sound of heavy horse hooves on packed dirt, and the accelerated breathe of the horse and myself were the only sounds I could hear as we bolted through the meadow. As I tried to avoid every hole and uneven patch of ground, Marty, my horse, kept his eye on the predators through the trees. We trusted each other, took care of each other, and our bond was built on trust.

drawing closer, and he could feel it. He stopped his mare and went through the saddlebags attached to

He kept one hand around her and held the reins with the other. The horse snorted, leaving the herd behind.

Perceval desperately wanted to clap his hands over his ears like when he was a young child and violent crashes of thunder had frightened him. The screams felt as if they tore through him and made his soul ache.

I can't talk to them, but, I understand them and they appear to enjoy my presence. This is actually what I did while I was traveling. People would enlist me to heal or help their animals and they payed me for my service," I explain. I move over and pick up the reigns the stableman dropped. "It would seem that the metal clipping on these reigns are out of place. They were probably digging into the horse, causing discomfort and suffering." I hold the reigns out to Arthur. "Also, from the way he's moving, his hooves are dirty and should be cleaned as soon as possible." Arthur looks at me with disbelief before turning

Merryn shrugged at him. "Ok don't get your tail in a knot!" Merryn takes the horse's reins, and leads it in the forest looking at the map occasionally trying to find another route.