Of Horses and Times Gone By
Dawn was a crack of light on the horizon when Michael ventured out into the chill. Muddied snow lay in mosaics of marbled light on the ground. He considered his path
“Oh, well, there’s no use delaying.” He could barely get the words out, the wind was blowing so sharply. He felt something wet and cold slide down his back.
“Oh, Lord!” He spat out into the uncaring world, as another icicle broke loose from the eaves and spiked frozen fingers down his back.
He moved out into the open. The stables, which weren’t too far from his cabin, lay shrouded in an eerie mist, as if there was an enigma, a secret within.
He scampered over the freezing ground on his bare feet to tend to his charges. No, it wasn't his job, at twelve-years-old, he wasn’t allowed to work and he guessed that if he got caught his father would be fired.
But something had to be done to keep the family fed. His Ma was gone, four years gone, resting, he suspected, unpeacefully, in her grave. His father was ill, he had a bloody cough and was far too weak to groom the horses. If the master found out, it would mean starvation for them. His thoughts shifted to his sister, still warmly tucked in her bed and he couldn’t help the smile that split his face.
No, he had to rush, go into the stables before the day began and prove that there was nothing wrong with his Pa, lest anyone should find out.
But, if the master was about, if...
He pushed open the slatted doors to the aroma of hay and horses, a unique, pervading scent that hung over stables the world over, it was intoxicating. Michael felt his pulse quicken and his shoeless feet gripped the earth firmly - as if he had a hidden power that only the horses could sense.
Michael worked like a demon, mucking out, feeding the stallions first and then the mares. He felt the sweat of his achievement warm his back where minutes before ice had almost frozen his delicate bones. His favorite mare nuzzled up to him and he gave her the carrot top he always, carefully, carried just for her. She thanked him with a neigh, and he felt his heart soar. He guessed he had horses in his blood, just like his Pa.
But then, he saw her...she was sitting, ever so quietly, on a haystack inside one of the stalls, close to the gate, concealed, yet still able to spy.
It was the master’s youngest, a girl of about his age, in the sables with him at this ungodly hour of morning.
Michael felt the cold hands of fear grip his throat, “you scared me.” He shot the accusation at her, but his breath was weak behind his voice.
He knew he was done for, he knew his family was done for.
“My mare, Running Dawn, is so lovely, don’t you think?” Michael looked at her, she was fragile, blonde and clean. She also had shoes on her feet, and he knew he was out of his depth.
“Yes, she’s my favorite, I feed her carrots everyday.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been following you for days to see why she was so happy, my horse, I mean.”
“Well…” Suddenly, sunlight spotlighted her in relief and she glowed with ethereal beauty. Michael could hardly talk. His fear, despite the vision before him was absolute.
“Come,” she said, offering Michael her hand, “let’s saddle up and ride. I’m so grateful that we’ve finally met. That I’ve had the courage to talk to you. You are so incredibly gifted with horses, it’s like you’re a magician, you know?”
Michael didn’t, but he felt his relief flood.
“I can’t tell my Pa about you, but I can tell Cook, and she’ll send her man to see to your Pa.”
Daily Freewrite by 