my story :)
The early morning mist constricted the air, forcing me to take longer breaths. The black gelding beneath me abruptly tensed as a twig snapped, breaking the almost impenetrable silence. I gathered my reins up, knowing that somewhere around me was the criminal. I remembered him courteously saying he wanted to try out Allora, our chestnut purebred Arabian mare, who had – until this morning – been up for sale. He had sat on the mare with a genuine rider’s seat, one that was only gained by long hours in the saddle. I recalled how my face had formed into a smile at the perfect form the two made as they lapped the paddock. It hadn’t lasted. The man had glanced at me, smiled, tipped his hat and then pointed Allora at the paddock fence. Our beautiful mare had shown no hesitation, leaping it with a flick of her ochre tail. For a moment, I had stood at the paddock rail, flabbergasted. Then, the realisation of what had occurred hit me like a dart hitting a target.
Aladdin, my black Arab gelding seemed to know I was in extreme anxiety. He stood patiently at the fence while I threw on his bridle and climbed abroad his bareback. I gulped uncertainly as I pointed Aladdin at the fence. It wasn’t that I hadn’t jumped something so big, because I had in lessons, but it was the fact that there were no poles that would roll out of the cups if we did indeed come in contact with it. Aladdin snorted in excitement, throwing his head up in the air, his wide nostrils flaring. I almost pulled out of it at the last second, but the thought of the stolen Allora kept me going. Aladdin barely faltered on landing, he had known he could do it, and it had been me who had almost ruined our chances with doubt. Ignoring the guilt that threatened to consume me, I spurred Aladdin on, willing the big black horse to lengthen his stride.
And now, Aladdin and I were poised for the retrieval of Allora, awaiting the sign of her chestnut hide shimmering through the bush. Suddenly, they were in front of us, Allora’s coal black hooves kicking back clumps of dirt. Aladdin bolted forward extending his neck in his haste to reach his paddock mate. I gripped my legs to his ebony hide and kneaded my hands forward into his mane. The man glanced back over his shoulder and smiled, turning onto a dense trail. The trail was so overgrown that he returned to a walk and so did I, knowing how dangerous it would be to push Aladdin any faster on the uneven ground.