Tornado smiled. The feel of the leather harness on his shoulders again. Although he enjoyed standing in his stall while the men and women breathed strange, soothing sounds into his ear whilst scratching his nose and the top of his head, this was what he enjoyed. He heard a familiar shout and holding his head high, leant forward until his shoulders felt the familiar weight. He strained, eager to pull his load. He could hear the rattle of the chains and instinctively knew it was one of the newly felled trees he would be taking down to the mill. An easy job he thought. This would not make his shoulders sore. He heard his shoes ring on the smooth tarmac as he ambled down the road, not realising or caring that he left a trail of broken side shoots and twigs behind as he made his way to the sawmill.
Crimson’s Creative Challenge #42
Filed under As you read it, Factual, History, Self compositions, Short story
When the pen takes control. 
Lovely piece, Bobby, and very fitting for the photo. I can hear his hooves on the road and the ‘strange, soothing words’ of the humans. 🙂
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I’m glad it worked then, thank you
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Atmospheric, you took me into the head of the horse (no mean feat). 🙂
And you reminded me of a long-ago day, helling at speed down a twisting-turning hill, a wood-laden tractor-pulled trailer ahead. I saw something drop from its bed, assumed it to be a stick. Until I rode over it. One snake, curled into my front wheel. Ekes. Not nice.
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Hmm, I can picture that, not nice for the poor snake. Yes, horses are intelligent creatures so they may think like that, only Mr. Ed could tell us and he is long gone from our screens.
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My grandfather reckoned his horses spoke to him. But he never would tell me what they said. They probably chided him for an inordinate amount of BS: his favourite talk.
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I once owned a former draft horse. He taught me a lot. I never saw him worked, and he had a nice broad back to ride bareback upon. I am extremely sensitive to horses, and came to the point where I wouldn’t even ask them to take a bit. Rode in halters with special knots to help guide them. Ultra light saddle or bareback. No shoes. All good. All good.
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Sadly I’ve never mastered the art of riding despite plenty of opportunities but I envy those with the skill
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I’ve never had such relationships as I have had with horses. Dogs understand things, but horses … I am sad we now live where we cannot have them, only 1/2 acre of gardens they would love to eat! 😉 But one day, we might again.
Our last old boy was a rescue, and despite the utter grief at his passing, we would do it again – keep old horses. Give them dignity and peace and kindness in their last days. Chris even learned to file Petey’s feet, as the farriers were too rough with him – he had a hard time balancing, and when the last one elbowed him hard in the ribs, Chris took up the file. It worked really well from that point forward. Aloha.
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A great feeling of satisfaction I’m sure
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It was.
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