Rough Draft Short Story

It was a warm mid-september day and I was preparing to go horseback riding for the very first time. I was celebrating my bestfriend’s birthday with her family and a couple other friends. On the ride over you could feel the jitters in the air and the excitement to try something new. We arrived to Bobby’s Ranch in Westford MA and settled on petting some of the other animals. It was all very bizarre, almost movie-like. We joked around about rookie mistakes and wondered how many of us were going to fall under it’s trap. The ride was scheduled to be an hour long, through the woods and in an orderly fashion. I got on top of a platform and was instructed on how to get up on the saddle and how to use the reins to guide the horse. The birthday girl

I lead him by leather reins to the outdoor ring where my trainer would see him work for the first time. He trotted circles around me and spooked at the wind. I returned to the barn and let him run and buck so he could burn off extra energy. When I heard my trainer’s golf cart stop in front of the barn, I caught him and prepared to mount. My trainer arrived and held his bridle while I put my foot in the stirrup. When foot made contact with iron, the horse bolted. He spun himself in circles around my trainer while I balanced half on, half off struggling to find the saddle and my balance. As soon as I was seated, the horse was loose. I gathered my reins and sat as calmly as I could. Suddenly, he bucked and threw me forward. As I fell onto his neck, he continued bucking. My trainer yelled, “Sit up! Pick his head up!” I was able to do neither. When I fell, the cold ground greeted me with a slap. I struggled to slowly stand as I clung to my now wet

I took a deep breath as I walked my horse into the Greeley Stampede Arena. I told myself just to "relax." I loped a circle around the arena to make sure that my horse was warmed up and ready to go. He was ready but I was starting to get nervous. I stopped in front of the roping box to put my piggin' string in my mouth. I looked at my calf in the chute to make sure that it was number 33, which was one of the best calves out of the whole set. It was, and I was ready to ride into the box and rope my calf, or attempt to rope my calf. I began to get more nervous, more nervous than I ever had been at a rodeo.

Short stories can be bland and boring. As you read some of them, you can feel emotion or just read a boring story about how something changed their life, but these three stories are interesting because they develop horror. These short stories use different elements to create horror. “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “A Rose for Emily,”, and “The Lottery” develop horror/gothic elements.

Seven nights ago I arrived at Red Dillon’s homestead. Before sleeping that night I dined on a bowl of red chili and a cup of coffee while Red Dillon went over the agreement, he made with the agent from the reservation. After Red finished reviewing the agreement he urged me to have some more food to prepare for tomorrow's bronc riding lesson. That next day I only managed to ride two horses and before being thrown five times, but I learned how to ride with skill. Each horse has a pattern and I can gauge their pattern to find my timing and rhythm to control the broncs. By the end of the week I managed to ride two horses in succession to a complete standstill and I felt accomplished, although Red immediately set up the corral after

I wasn't planning on coming back quite so soon, and who knows, I may not truly be back because I am, in fact, still pursuing other avenues of my life, avenues that take up a considerable amount of my time, especially during the holiday season, and then Paris...

I sit here at my career center feeling the tension of having to pull more weight than the guy next to me and all I have thoughts of is its time to cash in my flex days and get away. If I have to hear one more conversation about real tree apparel I will surely go insane. I needed a fix for this never- ending case of the Mondays, I quickly turn my attention to the brigade of travel sites all designed to allure me with last- minute deals, cheap getaways. I normally resist the temptation to engage in a spur of the moment decision, but I?m on edge today and on the other hand it?s time to let the rest of the office pull their own weight and a little of my workload for once. If there is such a thing as poetic justice in life, this is clearly one of those times.

I screamed in tears, “Dad! Mom,” at the top of my lungs as I was laying on the hard,cold basement floor.

I awoke that morning in my usual groggy state. The sun was adding a familiar warmth to my room as I got out of bed to get ready for the school day. It was to be a routine day with the exception of one thing. A certain emptiness was apparent in my house as I walked downstairs. I could see the area where my 20-year-old brother, Drew had slept. It was obvious, as he is my most disorderly brother, that he had already left. He hadn’t even had enough time to make the bed or clean up after himself. Drew was on his way to Georgia to join the Army and I could not do anything to change his mind, nor did I want to. After being at NDSU for one year, Drew had decided that college was not for him. Soon enough, he was preoccupied with all things Army. Drew met with an Army scout and was soon

Can you see the handsome young man sitting by my side, driving through the forest, behind the wheel of his decaying truck?

One of my Best friends Cheyenne turned 17 over spring break. I couldn’t make it to her birthday party so to make it up to her she slept over for two days and I surprised her with a trip to knots berry farm. She was ecstatic! Her excitement was contagious and as soon as we stepped through the gates of knots berry farm we got on any ride with a 15-40 minute wait no matter how many loops, twists, or turns it had. We craved the thrill. Although there was one ride that intimidated us both… it was the Supreme scream.

The door, the door was the first thing that I remember, radiating with the Southern Utah heat. It was more than just a door; however, but more of a portal, transporting me from the red sandstone beauty that I was so commonly surrounded by, to a drab hallway. Brightly lit, but still duller than the beating sun. The smell, musty and hot, did nothing to calm my nerves, and the hundreds of desperate people did nothing to help that situation either. It was an odd experience for me walking into my first audition, well that is, my first audition not in front a close friend or neighbor

It was just another beautiful day at the stables. I was 10 years old at the time. My younger sister Kelsey and I were scheduled to have our usual horse riding lesson that day. However, we were completely unaware that our ordinary afternoon would soon take a turn towards disaster. The lesson started with us warming up and taking turns going over a series of jumps. But in an instant, Kelsey’s horse spooked and suddenly my 6 year old sister was desperately clinging to a 1,000 pound mare that was galloping out of control. I watched the flurry of hoofs and sand in shock as my sister clung to the mane that clearly could not support her weight. Time seemed to slow down in that moment as I helplessly watched her slide from the saddle, to the front

" No," replied Carol with a sigh, "give him a chance to get used to

Then, as though something had awoken inside me, I pulled a little harder to the left and the horse’s head actually turned. I nudged its side while steering, willing the horse to change direction. The cool air and rushing of the river was starting to calm me down. My horse walked towards the rest of the group, most of whom were also having issues with their horses. When we had all formed a line and were heading out. I was still a bit nervous, but then it hit me. I had more experience than most of the people riding horses. I could do most things on a horse; walk, trot, canter, stop, turn. That was all I really needed. I smiled to myself. It was going to be okay. With the soothing sounds of the river and forest, the fresh breeze on my face, I felt like, as long as the horses didn’t get scared and start galloping, I would be fine. I started to space out, not concentrating on keeping my back straight, or keeping my hips, neck, and ankles in line. I was too busy looking around and stroking my horses warm, soft neck. My saddle lured me into a dazed state - I wasn’t really thinking about anything, and since I had no one to talk to, I