The Invisible String (A horse short story)

Steal my story and I swear I will unleash hell upon you. <3 

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Cold air filled my lungs and twisted itself around my body.

 It coils like a serpent around my arms, my legs, my neck, stealing the warmth that I so desperately needed right now. The dim lights cast shallow pools of relief from the pressing darkness; but the darkness knows that they won’t hold forever, and it curls around the edges, watching with a hundred million eyes that pierce the light, slowly creeping forward.

The sand beneath my feet feels cold and rough - I can sense it through the flimsy shoes on my feet, which do little more than keep a tiny, insignificantly small barrier between the sand and I. But they aren’t even doing that. These well worn shoes have holes, and it is through these that the sand invades, situating itself around my socks and lining the material. 

I shiver, and from somewhere in the darkness, a deep, rhythmic sound emerges, a dull hoof beat that tries to pound the sand into submission as he thunders around in a circle majestically. His long, strong, powerful legs cause his body to rise and fall against the darkness in a steady canter. The darkness can't stand against him; his deep chestnut coat catches the light and reflects it back at the darkness. It amplifies the effect and does the job that the light ineffectively tries to accomplish. Soft, warm breath comes from his mouth in clouds of misty grey, heating the serpent - like air around him as his body moved around in an effortless lope. 

His eyes seem to catch mine as he passes by my shallow pool of refuge from the darkness. He draws me in. An invisible string links us together, and I am no longer alone. 

Lightly stepping onto the and that once greedily invaded my shoes, I move towards the centre of his circle, stopping in the middle as he moves around. The invisible line draws me out. Moving along his circle, I fall into step, playfully prancing alongside him as he eyes me, his steady gait never faltering. He is perfectly balanced, every stride impeccably measured and churning the sand beneath his hooves.

I’m closer now, barely a metre away, still prancing alongside him in the same step as he. I copy his movements, trying to move the sand as he does, but it doesn’t quite have the same effect. I seem to push it together into a compact defense, as he sends it flying off into an explosion of sand specks.

I can hear his breath now; feel the steam coming off his body. I reach for the handles secured to his back, and pull my body close to his. My fragile form moulds to his powerful side, and the heat from him encases me as we move together, perfectly in stride as we churn the sand together. The serpent in my chest uncoils, and I can feel its dying flutters as the warmth flows through me. He pulls me along, helping me keep up as he surges forward.

It only lasts for three strides, but these strides seem to go forever as I fly beside him. Feeling his movement, I know I need to jump forward. He knows it too. I jump. As I do, several things happen. My agile body springs lightly over to fly alongside him for a short while; as I jump he gives me extra lift and I soar, free floating but totally in control. I gently land on his back, not wanting to hurt him. He’s a proud, regal creature; head held high and in possession of an utter determination to keep the sand, cold and darkness away from me.

 Proud.

Invincible.

It was all I felt when I was with him at that moment. The uncertainty was gone, replaced by the courage that he’d unlocked with that clear brown eye when he first looked at me that night came to the surface, fluttering in my chest, fighting the serpent. I floated from my sitting position to my knees, using his powerful movement as he carried us both in a circle, taking the effort for both of us.

I rise to a stand, my feet solidly connecting to his back through a thin layer of material. He’d stay steady for me - he always did. With that absolute trust, I fling myself up, attached to him with only my feet and an invisible string. But it was enough. Through it, he kept me safe, my knees absorbing his steady movement.

As I stood upon his back, the serpent, like fear, was banished, unable to find a hold in which to begin its twisting. The darkness fled from his small sphere of influence in which I resided. His coat gleamed, the sand fled. Nothing stood against him, and as the moment passed and I dismounted, he stood still, limbs trembling slightly from the thrill, and gave me a low, contented nicker that spoke more than any words ever could. Barely whispering, my cheek pressed against his, I gave my thanks and pressed my lips in a short kiss to his muzzle, and was rewarded with another low nicker.

He was more than a horse, as I was more than a vaulter.

Bound by that invisible string that no one but us could see, we were one. 

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* A/N - This piece is about a particular horse at my vaulting club, Northern Tyson. The bond with a horse and their rider, or vaulter in this case, is an amazing thing that can rarely be replicated. I wrote this piece for my English HSC trial on an impulse, no practise, and this is what resulted from it.  =) 

RIP Northern Tyson, 3/2/2012. We'll always remember you buddy <3