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Well, hi there :D My name is Sky, and I like to pretend that I can… - The Hayloft

lovemeinfocusJul. 26th, 2007 06:14 pm

Well, hi there :D

My name is Sky, and I like to pretend that I can write. Well, when you put a writer's mind into the body of a horse-crazy teen, stuff like this happens:

Silence surrounds us as we weave through trees, save for his hoofbeats and my occasional murmurs of praise. Freshly fallen snow twinkles like a million diamonds all around us, encasing us in a veil of white. It’s beautiful, stunning, awe-inspiring…and energizing. He is stepping out like he had never done before, swinging his limbs like a showy Saddlebred, and I feel more connected to him than ever before. I skim my gloved fingers against his neck, a secret caress. His ears are swiveling like antenna, never together. One forward, one cocked back, and, sometimes, both out to the side like a lop-eared goat. I can see the ends of the puffs of dragon-like mist twirling from his nostrils. The reins vibrate in my hands; he’s chewing on the bit. Energy courses through his spine, and I can feel it perfectly, for there is no saddle between us. He is excited, and so am I.

I press my heel into his side, and he veers left, hesitatingly. What are you doing, he asks, as both ears tip backwards towards me. We never go down here. Don’t worry, I say with a nudge of both heels. Trust me. He does, swinging both ears forwards to collect data on his new surroundings, tipping his head to glance at a tree or oddly-formed rock. I don’t mind, because he is more curious than frightened.

I sudden rustling in front of us makes him stop dead, and I am thrown onto his neck. He is stiff, head thrown into the air, ears pricked, and I imagined his eyes showing the whites. A deer, a huge buck, is picking his way through the wooded area beside us, unaware that we have arrived. I gasp, because seeing one of these magnificent creatures takes my breath away. He hears me, and his head shoots up, little white tail flagged in alarm. He bounds away with a grace I could never muster, disappearing behind us without a second glance. When the black one and I move off, I am smiling. That one encounter has made my day.

A few minutes later, we’ve reached our destination. An expanse of white stretches before us, untouched and flat. A field lies underneath that snow, I know, but he is confused, and a little worried. Are you sure, he asks, by only taking a step forwards when I press weight into his sides. Yes, I reply. Trust me. And he does and it’s going to be amazing. We meander down to the end of the field at a walk, both of us looking this way and that, milking our surroundings for all their worth. When we reach the end, I tighten the left rein and turn him around. I am excited, and now that he understands, so is he, tossing his head in just the slightest way. Can I go, he questions as I readjust myself on his broad black back. Not yet, I reply. He and I stand, stock still and silent, surrounded by a world of white. I am ready, and so is he.

I perch forward and tap him with both heels, and he’s off. A cadence of four, legs like pistons churning beneath me, marring the canvas of snow. His mane comes back into my face as I am so low over his neck, like a jockey. I am immensely pleased with myself as we fly along, galloping the length of the field. I may not be able to ride the trot bareback, but I can gallop all day long and not be jostled in the least. I can see his forelegs striking out in front of him, snatching at the ground in a greedy way. We are a black blur against a white world, both of us so different from our peers that we stand out in so many ways. I am laughing now, tossing my head back and urging him on, asking for a little more. Speed is intoxicating.

We veer onto the trail, and I know there will be a log very soon. When it comes into sight, he tips his ear back towards me and I don’t hesitate in telling him to take it. He snaps his heavy draft legs up and leaps over it with gusto, and I stick to his back like glue. As soon as we hit the other side, I am pulling him up, laughing and exhilarated. A canter, a trot (my hand entwines in mane. I don’t want to ruin this by being bounced off his back), a walk, and then a stop. He is breathing heavily, and so am I, both of us reveling in the joyous feeling of movement. I throw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his mane. He turns his head and touches his nose to my booted foot, blowing and snuffling softly. I reach down, bending in a precarious way, and run a hand the length of his broad face, ending at the soft velvet of his muzzle and letting him lick my palm. I giggle like a child being kissed by a dog, and pull my hand back. He straightens his neck, and sighs softly, chewing the bit and shifting his weight. Take me home, I say, sitting up and squeezing my legs against his wide barrel. We wander back down the trail, the reins lax in my hands and his neck stretched out like an elegant swan’s, both of us content, both of us freed in one way or another.

It is beautiful.

Any critism is welcome - I wrote this last year for class and was too lazy to do much editing. Actually, I'm generally too lazy to do much editing because I'm doing this for fun, not to publish ^.~

Great idea for a community! How many of you guys read the Thoroughbred series? And what about Sara Gruen's books, Riding Lessons and Flying Changes? Or Horseplay, by Judy Renee Singer? Or maybe Chosen by a Horse, by...uh...ohdamn...hmm...

Haha XD


3 comments - Leave a commentPrevious Entry Share Next Entry


Date:July 27th, 2007 12:04 am (UTC)
I've read both Riding Lessons and Flying Changes and I really like both though the protagonist gets kind of annoying at times, but I guess it's more fun to have an MC that you can hate rather than love all the time.

I didn't read what you wrote-yet. I promise I will come back to it and provide critique. I used to spend every single day of my childhood writing horse stories and I think this community might give me the kick in the pants I've needed for the past four years. I quit riding and my muse left around the same time. But seriously-every single horse novel seems to be so damn cookie cutter lately.

In fact, that seems like a good topic for a new post. I'll go make one. Then I'll critique your work!

Thanks for joining :D
Date:July 27th, 2007 12:38 am (UTC)
Annemarie is a pain in the ass and is whiny and insecure.

I love her. XD She pisses me off, but that's why I LOVE having her as a MC in a book. Sara Gruen has the cutest writing style, and has a way with making us hate and love her characters at the same time. I generally want to wring Annemarie's daughter's neck, too, but then she comes back in Flying Changes and is such a determined little shit...haha XD

Don't worry about not reading it, lol. It's not the best. I like it because it's a good memory, but the writing can improve DRASTICALLY. Even I know that.

Every single novel seems to be cookie cutter these days - not just horse stories. Which is depressing. Nothing will ever be truly original anymore. The ways to go about getting to a goal will always be different, but the underlying themes and ideas are all the exact same thing!

No problem! I have a feeling I'm going to be wicked active here, haha.
Date:August 14th, 2007 12:35 am (UTC)


If you like stories, with a theme around Thoroughbreds, you might like Dick Francis! All of his novels are fictional murder mysteries. The central theme in all of Francis' novels are around the Thoroughbred race industry in England. The writing is eloquent, suspenseful, and most of all spell binding. Usually I can dissect a book in a matter of chapters and figure out the protagonist. With Francis' novels I am caught up to the last chapter!

Let me know what you think - should you decide to pick up one of his novels. I have a number of them and always look for them at used book stores.