| General Non-Fiction posted August 15, 2016 |
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Short Story - 752 words
Horsing Around
by TAB_that's me
I bobbed my head up and down from the backseat of my cousin’s 1960 faded green Plymouth, taking in the country scenery and looking, with anticipation, to see the big red barn of the farm where we were heading.
Even though it was only a few miles from my house, as far as I remember, I had never been there before. My cousins Beth and Debbie were taking my sister, Becky, and me out to ride horses. The farm belonged to a relative on their other side of the family. Beth had just turned sixteen and had her driver’s license. Taking a carload of her cousins to the farm would allow her free reign with the family car.
I wanted to live on a farm so much back then, with horses, cows, and chickens, this was a tiny bit of heaven. They had all of the normal farm animals plus numerous exotic animals. The barn, complete with hay in the loft, was three times bigger than the house.
Back then, I didn’t own a pair of jeans or anything appropriate for a day at the farm. I don’t remember what I wore, but thinking back, I’m hoping I wasn’t wearing one of the polyester pantsuits my Mom made for me. If I was, I’m glad there are no pictures to record the polyester-clad rider.
After four horses were saddled, Beth and Debbie helped put my short legs up in the stirrup and shove my chubby little body into the saddle. Though I don’t remember the horse’s name, I remember she was a tall, black horse with a long dark brown mane. My horse was the biggest of them all and I sat tall and proud on her back. She was given to me to ride as she was also known to be the most gentle.
Riding just in front of me was my cousin, Debbie. She always wore her long dark hair in a single back braid. I watched in amusement as the braid flopped up and down in beat with the horse’s clop.
I was having the time of my life riding on that big black mare. It was late September, just weeks after my ninth birthday. The air was cool and crisp. The trees were beginning to shed their colorful leaves, and the green pasture was fading fast. The fun came to a sudden halt when I got thrown over her head. Later, I would learn, she had been spooked by a snake, jolting into a gallop.
After hitting my head on her knee, I landed flat on my back. It was a long way down, and it knocked the wind out of me for a few moments. Having broken my leg a few months earlier from falling off the monkey bars at school, I knew the hard consequences of falls.
Debbie dismounted her horse to check on me, while Beth caught my runaway horse. A huge knot was already forming on my forehead just above my left eye.
The only thing I wanted to do was to get back on and ride some more. My cousins said we needed to go back to the house. Because of the distance, they finally agreed to let me ride the horse back to the barn.
Inside the house, the two older cousins placed an ice pack on the knot, hoping to get the swollen lump down before taking us back, so they wouldn’t have to tell my parents what had happened. At ages fifteen and sixteen, they were naïve enough to think my head would be fine in a short time.
Before going home, we all went back to the barn. While Beth and Debbie unsaddled the equines, Becky and I climbed into the loft and played king of the mountain on the hay bales. Beth showed us how to milk the goats, and we drank the milk straight from the pail.
My nervous cousins took me home sporting a bump the size of golf ball, and an eye beginning to turn various hues of purple and blue. They were afraid my parents would never let me go back to the farm with them again. I guess they were right, as I never remember going there again.
Though it was my one and only trip to the farm, it was one of the most memorable times with my two older cousins.
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I bobbed my head up and down from the backseat of my cousin’s 1960 faded green Plymouth, taking in the country scenery and looking, with anticipation, to see the big red barn of the farm where we were heading.
Even though it was only a few miles from my house, as far as I remember, I had never been there before. My cousins Beth and Debbie were taking my sister, Becky, and me out to ride horses. The farm belonged to a relative on their other side of the family. Beth had just turned sixteen and had her driver’s license. Taking a carload of her cousins to the farm would allow her free reign with the family car.
I wanted to live on a farm so much back then, with horses, cows, and chickens, this was a tiny bit of heaven. They had all of the normal farm animals plus numerous exotic animals. The barn, complete with hay in the loft, was three times bigger than the house.
Back then, I didn’t own a pair of jeans or anything appropriate for a day at the farm. I don’t remember what I wore, but thinking back, I’m hoping I wasn’t wearing one of the polyester pantsuits my Mom made for me. If I was, I’m glad there are no pictures to record the polyester-clad rider.
After four horses were saddled, Beth and Debbie helped put my short legs up in the stirrup and shove my chubby little body into the saddle. Though I don’t remember the horse’s name, I remember she was a tall, black horse with a long dark brown mane. My horse was the biggest of them all and I sat tall and proud on her back. She was given to me to ride as she was also known to be the most gentle.
Riding just in front of me was my cousin, Debbie. She always wore her long dark hair in a single back braid. I watched in amusement as the braid flopped up and down in beat with the horse’s clop.
I was having the time of my life riding on that big black mare. It was late September, just weeks after my ninth birthday. The air was cool and crisp. The trees were beginning to shed their colorful leaves, and the green pasture was fading fast. The fun came to a sudden halt when I got thrown over her head. Later, I would learn, she had been spooked by a snake, jolting into a gallop.
After hitting my head on her knee, I landed flat on my back. It was a long way down, and it knocked the wind out of me for a few moments. Having broken my leg a few months earlier from falling off the monkey bars at school, I knew the hard consequences of falls.
Debbie dismounted her horse to check on me, while Beth caught my runaway horse. A huge knot was already forming on my forehead just above my left eye.
The only thing I wanted to do was to get back on and ride some more. My cousins said we needed to go back to the house. Because of the distance, they finally agreed to let me ride the horse back to the barn.
Inside the house, the two older cousins placed an ice pack on the knot, hoping to get the swollen lump down before taking us back, so they wouldn’t have to tell my parents what had happened. At ages fifteen and sixteen, they were naïve enough to think my head would be fine in a short time.
Before going home, we all went back to the barn. While Beth and Debbie unsaddled the equines, Becky and I climbed into the loft and played king of the mountain on the hay bales. Beth showed us how to milk the goats, and we drank the milk straight from the pail.
My nervous cousins took me home sporting a bump the size of golf ball, and an eye beginning to turn various hues of purple and blue. They were afraid my parents would never let me go back to the farm with them again. I guess they were right, as I never remember going there again.
Though it was my one and only trip to the farm, it was one of the most memorable times with my two older cousins.
Even though it was only a few miles from my house, as far as I remember, I had never been there before. My cousins Beth and Debbie were taking my sister, Becky, and me out to ride horses. The farm belonged to a relative on their other side of the family. Beth had just turned sixteen and had her driver’s license. Taking a carload of her cousins to the farm would allow her free reign with the family car.
I wanted to live on a farm so much back then, with horses, cows, and chickens, this was a tiny bit of heaven. They had all of the normal farm animals plus numerous exotic animals. The barn, complete with hay in the loft, was three times bigger than the house.
Back then, I didn’t own a pair of jeans or anything appropriate for a day at the farm. I don’t remember what I wore, but thinking back, I’m hoping I wasn’t wearing one of the polyester pantsuits my Mom made for me. If I was, I’m glad there are no pictures to record the polyester-clad rider.
After four horses were saddled, Beth and Debbie helped put my short legs up in the stirrup and shove my chubby little body into the saddle. Though I don’t remember the horse’s name, I remember she was a tall, black horse with a long dark brown mane. My horse was the biggest of them all and I sat tall and proud on her back. She was given to me to ride as she was also known to be the most gentle.
Riding just in front of me was my cousin, Debbie. She always wore her long dark hair in a single back braid. I watched in amusement as the braid flopped up and down in beat with the horse’s clop.
I was having the time of my life riding on that big black mare. It was late September, just weeks after my ninth birthday. The air was cool and crisp. The trees were beginning to shed their colorful leaves, and the green pasture was fading fast. The fun came to a sudden halt when I got thrown over her head. Later, I would learn, she had been spooked by a snake, jolting into a gallop.
After hitting my head on her knee, I landed flat on my back. It was a long way down, and it knocked the wind out of me for a few moments. Having broken my leg a few months earlier from falling off the monkey bars at school, I knew the hard consequences of falls.
Debbie dismounted her horse to check on me, while Beth caught my runaway horse. A huge knot was already forming on my forehead just above my left eye.
The only thing I wanted to do was to get back on and ride some more. My cousins said we needed to go back to the house. Because of the distance, they finally agreed to let me ride the horse back to the barn.
Inside the house, the two older cousins placed an ice pack on the knot, hoping to get the swollen lump down before taking us back, so they wouldn’t have to tell my parents what had happened. At ages fifteen and sixteen, they were naïve enough to think my head would be fine in a short time.
Before going home, we all went back to the barn. While Beth and Debbie unsaddled the equines, Becky and I climbed into the loft and played king of the mountain on the hay bales. Beth showed us how to milk the goats, and we drank the milk straight from the pail.
My nervous cousins took me home sporting a bump the size of golf ball, and an eye beginning to turn various hues of purple and blue. They were afraid my parents would never let me go back to the farm with them again. I guess they were right, as I never remember going there again.
Though it was my one and only trip to the farm, it was one of the most memorable times with my two older cousins.
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