2018 Writing Scrapbook

The Colt

Note: This was a Christmas present for my grandmother.

The horse stomped her hooves in the squishy springtime earth. Under her mighty power she crushed the buds of newborn flowers beneath her. With a shake, her mane flew into the wind and she whinnied at those following her- a true-black colt with a narrow nose and dark orbs as eyes, and a fleeting collie snapping at the back of her heels.

She nuzzled the colt, bowing her head down to reach him, but gave another stomp at the collie to back away. The three of them worked in harmony. This is what she had realized long ago. The collie was fire, she was water, and the colt was everything in between- he was a mixture of the playful boasting of the collie, its growling and fierce spirit, and the gentleness of the mare which every creature of the woods respected.

The three stuck together like glue, following one another round and round the pasture. The seasons came and passed and the colt grew into a magnificent stallion. He stuck his nose high in the air and pranced through the fields like he was the all-powerful king of the valley.

But there came a day when his ornery attitude died down. For he discovered something curious-looking. It was one of the pink creatures that came near to feed the horses and ride them with heavy leatherworks. Yet it was small, peculiar. The creature reached out and grasped at his nostrils. He gave a whinny of surprise when it yanked on them, but this only spurred it to light laughter. To him the laughter sounded like the tinkling of bells floating on the breeze.

He was entranced. The collie ran up behind the little creature and licked its cheek. It grabbed the collie around the neck. "Good doggie," it burbled. The stallion could tell that it was a little girl. And it was. She danced around both of them with a cotton dress and wheat-blonde hair rolling around her shoulders that contrasted with his dark coat.

She was taken back inside the house by the older creatures, and he watched them return. But the next day, she came back outside and clung to his legs, staring up at him. She giggled once more, and he heard the tinkling of bells. She returned every day for weeks, for years, and she grew. He got used to her daily visits with the collie, and he brought her to his mother.

The mare was growing older, and flecks of gray were appearing on her muzzle. But she was still able to bend down and offer a bit of warmth to the girl when she approached her. The stallion could see the kindness in her eyes and decided to replicate this. As the girl grew older, and her cheeks became more defined, her laugh grew softer but didn't lose its effect. "You're my horse," she whispered. "My beautiful horse. Nobody else's."

He couldn't understand her words, but he grew to love the girl. She brushed him and pet him and scolded him when he was naughty. She stood by him as he was injected with shots and chiseled by the farrier. She set the leatherworks on his back and laughed that tinkling laugh as they chased the air and dashed through the woods together. They were one being, one entity. And the collie chased after them, so he only galloped faster.

The stallion lived with glee, but there came a day when his family of four was no more. The collie disappeared one day, and he found himself missing the nipping of his heels. The collie had been a loyal companion. His mother was still there to nicker at him, but a few years later she secluded herself from the herd and he found her laying cold on the ground. She was gone soon after that, and he was all alone. He only had the girl. She never abandoned him, though. And when she was no longer a girl but a woman, she took him with her. Perhaps his original family of three was gone, but in their absence he grew with another, and she grew with him. And there was only love.