Freedom - Prologue
 
 

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Freedom - Prologue

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    09-18-2010, 10:18 PM
  #1
Foal
Freedom - Prologue

Here's a story I came up with during class while looking at a horse picture. I hope you enjoy it, I will be turning this into a chapter-story, so prepare yourself for more. Tell me if you like it.

Freedom: Prologue


All these horses look amazing, if only I could own one. I'd show him affection, care, and always be there to listen to him. To all you readers out there, my name is Alexis. I'm just a 16 year old teenage girl from the country. Like most country girls, I am in love with horses, and the idea of owning one, for that matter. My father, Tom, has owned horses since he was a little boy. I've asked countless times when going to a horse auction, if I could get one of my own, but he always says no, and that the horses are only used for farm work, nothing more. We currently have 6 horses at our ranch in the countryside, all are broke, but are never ridden.

The next auction was coming in a week from now, and I thought up a whole speech to say to my father, so he'd let me get a horse to ride and train. Well, the day of the auction came, and I gathered up all the courage I could to ask him. So, I did.

To my amazement, he said he'd think about it, rather than a solid "No". So, while walking with him, watching him as he checked out the horses in the stalls to see which he liked best, I took it upon myself to go across the hall and look at the horses on the other side. There were many suitable horses I would've loved to own; some were young, fully broke, and starting out on training. Others were older, steady riders, and fully trained for any type of riding. But there was one horse I simply had to have. The feeling I got when I laid eyes on him was like unwrapping a gift you've been wanting all year. Well, maybe more than that, but you get the idea.

This horse, from what the clipboard said, was pure arabian, and had a light chocolate-coloured coat. Standing at an impressive 16.2 hands high, and just 3 years old. The only thing that wasn't so good was the fact this horse wasn't fully broken in, and had a bad temper around people. I remembered those words as if they were written in neon letters; "FOR WORK ONLY". This made me a bit sad since this horse was beautiful, and a male, which I was looking for anyways, since my father doesn't normally buy mares.

I called my father over to see the young colt. First reaction when he read the clipboard, was a shake from his head, and a sigh. He looked at me and told me this horse would never let any one of us near enough to even get a saddle on him, and that he seemed too dangerous to keep with the other geldings at our ranch. I saw this answer coming, and I didn't bother arguing his side, I just nodded and turned away to look at the other horses again. My father must have seen the sadness in my eyes, because as we were leaving the auction, he told me to go wait in the truck while he went to purchase some new livestock animals, which I'm guessing was just some more pigs or a cow.

Twenty minutes went by, and I looked over to the wide wooden doors to the auction barn, and that's when I saw my father walk out of the barn with what appeared to be; the horse I wanted.
     
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    09-19-2010, 02:15 PM
  #2
Foal
I cannot figure out how to edit this post, but I edited the story.

Freedom: Prologue


All these horses look amazing, if only I could own one. I'd show him affection, care, and always be there to listen to him. I'm just a 16 year old teenage girl from the country. Like most country girls, I am in love with horses, and the idea of owning one, for that matter. My father has owned horses since he was a little boy. I've asked countless times when going to a horse auction, if I could get one of my own, but he always says no, and that the horses are only used for farm work, nothing more. We currently have 6 horses at our ranch in the countryside, all are broke, but are never ridden.

The next auction was coming in a week from now, and I thought up a whole speech to say to my father, so he'd let me get a horse to ride and train. Well, the day of the auction came, and I gathered up all the courage I could to ask him. So, I did.

To my amazement, he said he'd think about it, rather than a solid "No". So, while walking with him, watching him as he checked out the horses in the stalls to see which he liked best, I took it upon myself to go across the hall and look at the horses on the other side. There were many suitable horses I would've loved to own; some were young, fully broke, and starting out on training. Others were older, steady riders, and fully trained for any type of riding. But there was one horse I simply had to have. The feeling I got when I laid eyes on him was like unwrapping a gift you've been wanting all year. Well, maybe more than that. It was like meeting the one you were destined to be with forever, that light turning on. That's how it was for me, seeing that young colt. His head was held high, ears forward, shiny coat, and strong legs.

This horse, from what the clipboard said, was pure arabian, and had a light chocolate-coloured coat. Standing at an impressive 16.2 hands high, and just 3 years old. The only thing that wasn't so good was the fact this horse wasn't fully broken in, and had a bad temper around people. I remembered those words as if they were written in neon letters; "FOR WORK ONLY". This made me a bit sad since this horse was beautiful, and a male, which I was looking for anyways, since my father doesn't normally buy mares.

I called my father over to see the young colt. First reaction when he read the clipboard, was a shake from his head, and a sigh. He looked at me and told me this horse would never let any one of us near enough to even get a saddle on him, and that he seemed too dangerous to keep with the other geldings at our ranch. I saw this answer coming, and I didn't bother arguing his side, I just nodded and turned away to look at the other horses again. My father must have seen the sadness in my eyes, because as we were leaving the auction, he told me to go wait in the truck while he went to purchase some new livestock animals, which I'm guessing was just some more pigs or a cow.

As I walked out to the truck, I couldn't help but think of what could've been if I got that colt. I could've helped him to learn to grow into a strong rider, graceful in his trots, beautiful in his canters. Thinking about all this brought tears to my eyes, I just had to have that colt, but I knew my father's words were firm, that horse was simply too wild to keep with other horses. I couldn't fight away the tears that were just streaming down my face. I opened the door to the truck, looking at the empty seats with tear-blurred eyes. Getting in the truck, and shutting the door lightly, I prevented myself from gazing over at the auction barn. The pain would only reignite in my mind, and cause more tears.
It must have been twenty minutes or so since I left to come sit in the truck, because I couldn't help but look over at the barn doors, seeing if my father was coming or not. He was there with a man, and I noticed he handed the man some money, but I wasn't sure how much. The next thing I saw made my tears return, but this time, out of pure joy, not sorrow. My father walked out holding the reins of the colt I wanted.
     
    09-22-2010, 04:40 PM
  #3
Foal
Freedom: Rage

Seeing my father emerge from the auction barn leading the colt I wanted, was the greatest moment of my life. I flung open the door to the truck and jumped from my seat to the concrete parking lot below my feet. The rush of excitement I got overwhelmed my ability to run, and I nearly tripped. The colt looked at me with steady eyes, almost as if he was amused by my clumsiness. My father approached me, half smiling to hold back a laugh.

“Here’s your new boy Alexis.” He said, handing over the reins to me.

I could only gasp; my chest felt like the night air turned my flesh to ice. As I grabbed the reins, a deep burst of love ran through my stomach and chest as I stretched my hand out to stroke the colt’s strong cheek. He lowered his massive head to my shoulders, while leaning into my hand, and gently rubbed his cheek against my shaking hand as if to say; “Hello, my friend.”

I thought my heart stopped cold. This colt showed affection for me as if we knew each other for years. It was a great feeling. My father laughed calmly, taking the reins back and started to lead the colt around to the back of the truck where our horse trailer was hooked up. Opening the big wooden door, he walked the horse slowly up the wooden ramp into the trailer, then walked out slowly, so not to spook him. I got back in the truck while he closed the trailer door, locking it firmly. Getting in the truck beside me, he looked at me with kind eyes. I guessed he knew the emotions I was experiencing, since I had a big, horse-ish smile on my face.
“He’s your responsibility now. I’ll help when I can though.” He looked away, starting the truck engine up, which growled to life. Turning the steering wheel so the tires aligned with the exit road, we pull out of the dimly-lit parking lot.

The ride home was dark and gloomy. We had to pull over a few times to check on the colt. He kept whinnying in distress and kicked the sides of the trailer. The colt was very unhappy with the truck’s motions, especially when the truck hit a bump in the road, and he displayed his anger as so. When we pulled into the rock-littered driveway of our house, my father parked the truck with the trailer backed up against the ranch stable for easy access. He opened the trailer door quickly so he could calm the colt down, who was thrashing about like a mad tornado. The horse had other plans.

As my father walked in and took the reins into his hand, the colt roared viciously, neighing with rage. I could hear my father yelling “Whoa boy! Whoa!” in an attempt to calm the horse down. This usually calms down our other horses, but not this one. The colt reared up, standing on his hind legs, kicking hard with his front legs as he dropped back onto all fours. I was scared for the colt. The look in my father’s eyes was that of stress and disappointment, mostly at the colt’s display of actions. Very juvenile. The colt continued to thrash and kick for several minutes. My father thought it was best to pull the horse away from the trailer and around to the front of the truck, to give the horse some room in case he continued to lash out.

At least, until the colt reared for a second time, bringing down both front hooves onto the truck’s hood, breaking off part of the grill and smashing out a headlight. This caused me to jump from being startled. Then I heard foul language start to cascade from my father’s mouth, he was clearly angry at the colt. I did the only thing I knew how to do; I grabbed the reins that were flinging around the colt’s neck from his temper tantrum. Gripping the velvety reins firmly, I shouted at the colt to stop. To my great surprise, I felt the reins go limp, and heard the colt neigh softly. My father and I couldn’t believe that I got him to completely stop his fussing.

I, myself, took him by the reins and walked him in to the stables. I took him to his own stall at the back of the stable, letting him walk slowly into his new ‘room’. My father examined the damage to the truck outside as I tossed in some hay for the colt, and placed a small bowl of oats and barley mix beside the hay. I then went outside the stable to the hose on the side of the building, and filled a bright red bucket with water. I brought the bucket to his stall with both hands, so not to spill very much on the ground. Exhausted, I walked outside the colt’s stall, sliding the door behind me. I leaned against the stall door bars and watched him eat quietly. My eyes began to feel heavy and I hadn’t noticed my father walk in until he patted me on the shoulder, smiling proudly.
“You did great with him.” He smiled.

“Yeah, guess I did.” I could hear the sleep in my voice.
There was a bit of a pause as we watched the new horse eat his treat mix I provided for him.

“So, have you thought of a name for him yet?”

I was so welled up with emotions, I didn’t even think of a name for the colt yet. I looked at the colt, tracing his features over with my eyes, even though I was half asleep. Then the colt raised his head up, looking me dead in the eyes. He kept my gaze for several minutes, before starting to kick the stall door to indicate he wanted to come out of his stall so he could run around some more. My eyes widened that moment, and that’s when I realized I knew the perfect name for him…

“Freedom.”
     

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