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horseluver2435 01-04-2010 06:47 PM

A little beginning
Not sure if I'll keep going with it, but it's a start. From a mare's point of view.

Dreams whisper in her ears, as she dozes in her stall. Sawdust litters the floor, and a cool breeze drifts in from her window. A heavy blow of wind rushes in, and stirs the dust that covers most everything. It tickles the mareís nose, and she sneezes, waking herself up.
Shaking off the sleep, she lumbers over to the moonstruck window, and pokes out her head, hoping for a gasp of air. Instead, she pulls in too much, and it leaves her feeling restless. Next, her head swings back to look at the other horses, across from her own enlarged stall. They all sleep, soundless and still.
What she would give to have such a luxury. For the past few months, she has become more aware of the burden she bears. Her stomach has become heavy, and her sleep- well, it was more than a bit lacking.
She more than willingly takes hold of this burden- she oversteps herself by calling it a burden. It is a gift. And a wonderful gift, she reminds herself, for it is life. Or, it will be.
Knowing that she supports another life than her own frightens her. Sheís never been depended on, never. The people who visit this place, and feed all the Thoroughbreds who live here, donít ride her. A few others will come out and excersize the others, but itís winter now, and no one is being ridden.
Especially not her. Her legs were much too short for racing, unlike her siblings and stallmates, despite her excellent bloodlines and superior health. She was also calm, and very friendly- therefore, she had been chosen to occupy this extravagant stall, and to receive the richest of the oats, and the lushest of the hay.
But she was so afraid. There were no other broodmares here, just racers, and they shunned her for her differences. This wasnít too new, when turned out as a weanling, the others had always left her alone while they galloped about, testing out their long, slender legs, and their ferocity to prove how fast they really were.
Her own mother had been clueless for raising foals, and had never taught her a thing. She was completely on her own.

trIplEcrOwngIrl 01-04-2010 07:35 PM

wow! you better keep going, I'm hooked! :-)

horseluver2435 01-04-2010 07:55 PM

Haha, maybe. :) If I manage to think of more!

horseluver2435 01-04-2010 08:19 PM

A little bit more:
For now, though, she needed to sleep. The morning would come soon enough, and then she would be turned out, all by her lonesome, in a small paddock that was right outside her stall. It was a nice enough field, with plenty of grass, and weeds, and a few trees for shelter if she chose not to return to her stall.
Out the window her head went again, this time to shoot a glance around the pasture. It would, she thought, be a nice place to raise a foal. As far as she knew, at least. She wouldn’t have minded growing up here. For a racing stable, it was a kind, generous place, always thinking of the horses needs first. And it never ran horses in races that were too advanced for the horse.
Several champions had ran for the stables, and a few had been born here. Maybe, she pondered, my own foal will be a champion. Before she could dwell on these thoughts much longer, however, lights began to flicker on, and horses started to return to life. Her chance for sleep had been missed.
A young man, shorter than most, but mature for his younger age, approached her stall, carrying a bucket of grain. He clucked to her, trying to gain her attention and trust. It would not be lent out easily.
He did have grain, though. So for now, he was her very best two-legged friend. Knowing how humans enjoyed hearing the gentle nickers when horses were presented with food, she blew at him, letting out a low whinney and a small snort.
“Easy, girl. Excited for breakfast? You look a little tired, girl, you get enough sleep?” His babbling meant next to nothing to her, but the low sound reassured her all the same and excited her even more for the bounty awaited her.
On most days, she was given her grain in her stall, then a flake of hay, and then she was turned out to forage. Today, the young man teased her out into the open with the bucket of grain, and no hay was laid out. She was somewhat disappointed, but was sure it had something to do with…the foal.
While she began to munch on the crunchy oats, the man (whose name, unknown to her, was Taylor) pat her neck and finger-combed her mane. Next he left momentarilly, and returned with a large winter blanket, which he threw over her and buckled on.
Meanwhile, she was left wondering how much longer she had until the foal was born.

trIplEcrOwngIrl 01-04-2010 11:26 PM

really good!! My only question is, they wouldn't try to get a foal whom the planned to race if the mother didn't have the confo to race right? I may be wrong though :/

horseluver2435 01-05-2010 03:01 PM

Hmm...perhaps a good point. I don't know much about Thoroughbreds and racing though- I just watched Dreamer and had the 'theme' of racing stuck in me, so yeah...

HollyLolly 01-05-2010 07:29 PM

You could have it that the mare was born too early which stunted her leg growth, but wouldn't be a genetoc thing she could pass onto her foal... i dunno if it's possible for a horses legs to be stunted due to premature birth, but I spose it would do so that the story has no pot holes :)

Great story so far by the way :)

horseluver2435 01-05-2010 08:58 PM

Hm, perhaps. Thanks for the idea. Maybe I'll write it in somehow. Or change it. Either way. And thank you. I've always been a little fascinated by Thoroughbreds, especially ones that race so early, and I've wanted to write a horse story for awhile. I had a burst of inspiration the other day and this is the result. :)

horseluver2435 01-05-2010 09:01 PM

A tiny bit more:
Days passed, then weeks. Soon three more months had passed, and a kind woman visited more frequently to examine the mare, and occasionally give a shot, or a new type of powder to be placed in her grain.
The foal continued to kick. How much longer, she wondered constantly, how many more days before it will come? Though she had heard tales of dams being able to tell the gender of their incoming foal, she had not even the slightest inkling.
She just hoped that the end would come soon. The kicks, though often, did not hinder her or pain her, but simply annoyed. He must be awfully strong, she thought.
A few days after one of the woman’s visits- she quickly realized this was the ‘vet’- a new horse came to the stable. She had been laying under one of the trees, attempting to catch up on her sleep, when the trailer pulled up. Curious, she pulled herself to her hooves and waddled over to the fence.
The horse being backed out of the trailer was gray, unlike the rest of the racers at the stable. With a sniff, she informed herself of the horse’s gender- a mare, and older than her.
She greeted the mare with a gentle whinney, and they seemed to share a glance of trust. The gray was led into her pasture, and they touched noses, greeting each other properly. The innocence in their eyes was a wonderful quality, and everyone who saw them that day knew that they would be great friends.
And they were. No fighting ever happened, no major squealing or arguments, instead, they calming decided that since the gray was older, she should be the leader.
The people who had purchased the gray as a broodmare congratulated themselves for this wonderous idea. Little did the soon to be mother know, but the gray was to be a teacher mare- she would help raise the foal once it was born. Whether or not it would work remained to be seen, but the two mares acceptance of each other seemed to put some confidence in the people.
More days passed, bringing spring with them. And as spring came, the mare’s belly grew. Soon her fuzzy brown fur shed, and she returned to her normal shiny copper color. The gray shed the little winter fur she had, but retained her winter color.
The copper mare, still heavily bound with her foal, stared at the sun rising over the miles of fields and pastures that made up her home state. Suddenly, she began to shake. Her nostrils trembled as she let out a eardrum bursting neigh, and the gray raced out of the shelter of the trees.
An hour passed before any person was aware of what was occuring in the small pasture.

trIplEcrOwngIrl 01-05-2010 09:07 PM

looks good!! another senaio with her becomiing a broodmare is that she could have like, had a small fracture r torn a ligamint or something that disabled her to race but wouldn't be passed to the foal

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