A Short Story: Description: Setting

I'm having an off day today -- trouble focusing and concentrating. I need to post an update, but just don't think I can stick to any single thought process. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Promise is doing well -- she was a bit gimpy on Tuesday, but will be getting lunged 3 or 4 times a week for about 15 minutes, which is a hell of a lot better than nothing. Our new lunging buddy did well learning my commands, and I think they'll be just fine, since she isn't actually asking for any actual "work" just getting Promise out and about, which will help rebuild that muscle in her back and haunches.

Anyway, I have been sitting on this short story for a while. I wrote it a few years back and then tweaked it in the same writing class as the last one I posted. I meant to post it a month or so ago, but totally forgot it was sitting there. So...Enjoy!

With a quick sigh, I stepped from the ’58 mustang and turned into the slowly deepening dusk. Zipping my gray fleece, I entered the metal gate to the unusually dismal and quiet “C” barn entrance. Swiftly, I pulled the heavy oak doors apart and descended down the wide aisle. The darkness and welcoming whinnies enveloped me. Through the deafening greeting came the distinguishable sound of my horse’s voice.

I flipped the switch for the aisle’s lights and the barn came alive. I wandered into the newly lit tack room and opened my wooden locker. Quickly, I removed the leather tack and blue plastic brush box and dragged them to the set of crossties nearest my horse’s stall. As I stood up, I saw her silky bay nose protruding through the iron stall guards.

I whispered a friendly word of greeting to the big mare as I grabbed her purple halter and entered the large stall. The horse and I exited the stall together. Simultaneously, I heard a familiar voice in the shadows behind me. I clipped the horse to the crossties and walked toward the voice. We embraced, and he followed me back to the crossties and the quietly awaiting mare. As I bent for the small black, rubber currycomb, I felt the soft curious nose nudge me. I began to laugh and turned to brush her in large circular motions. Throughout the grooming, I spoke softly. Occasionally, the horse would bob her head as if in agreement to a previous comment.

Finally, the horse passed my inspection of cleanliness, and I reached for the turquoise suede saddle pad. This is the only time the horse moved on the ties, still being green made her nervous, but with my strict command to stand still, she froze. I continued tacking her, speaking quietly so she would remain calm.

I finished the process and led her to the indoor arena, being followed closely behind by my visitor. For twenty minutes, I lunged the mare on a large circle around me. When I let her stop, I readjusted the saddle and bridle and led her to the mounting block. Slowly and with some caution I mounted and praised her as she stood perfectly still, every muscle tense and ready to explode at any moment. After a few minutes of reassurance, I felt the solid bay mass beneath me relax, and I gently asked her to walk forward, still praising continuously.

An hour passed quickly, I gazed at my watch and decided to quit for the day. I led the mare back to the “C” barn and reversed the course we had gone through earlier. I placed the heavy winter blanket over her back and carefully buckled each strap until it was secure around her. We headed to the stall, and again the visitor’s voice piped up. I spoke to him and finished with the mare at the same time. I closed the sliding stall door and once again walked toward the voice. Again, we embraced. I told him what a good dog he was and made my way back through the newly falling snow and the now total darkness to the awaiting car. “Always the same routine,” I silently thought to myself.

"Maybe tomorrow we’ll change.” With that, I drove away from the scene.