The stableA Story by A.L. James
There is no plot, this is a descriptive exercise I did for an assignment.
I could almost taste the tang of hot summer on the wind as we approached the stable. Sun-scorched chamomile flowers tried not to droop as I crunched by on the white rock road. Nubs of blown-by dandelions stood at attention here and there. Scrubby cedars beside the roadbed reached to scrape at my legs. Daddy had brought me here to the Cameron Park stables for my twelfth birthday. We were going riding today.
I could hear daddy and the stable man haggling out the price for renting the ponies and the tack. The stable was a little shabby, but tight and clean for a barn. The weathered and dirty white paint chipped off in big flakes, but the silvery wood behind it was sturdy. Tack and gear hung neatly coiled on heavy rusted hooks high up on the walls around the inside of the barn. A large dusty well-used black chalkboard proclaimed the riding rules, and the price of the ponies per hour with and without the saddle. The soft dry dirt floor beneath my almost bare sandaled feet scudded in little dust eddies when anyone moved. It covered my ankles with a thin film of ashy gray dirt that I knew daddy would make me rinse off with a water hose when we got home. I could see a pleasantly green oak forest reaching for me outside of the windows behind the ponies’ stalls. The local birds and cicadas in that enchanted place were gossiping about the day as ponies snorted in boredom inside the shady stalls. Silky tails swished flies away and shoulders and rumps shivered when a bug crawled on them.
I was more interested in the vision of creaking leather saddle and tawny animal before me. He smelled warm brown like horse sweat, hay and manure. Liquid dark eyes gazed at me. He nickered softly as I touched his soft coppery hide. His shoulder trembled under my fingertips like it did when a fly was buzzing him. The pony huffed my ear nudging me, looking for a treat. I held open my hand wide like the stableman had shown me, and felt as yellow-amber horse teeth scraped my palm taking the carrot nugget off of it. The horse waggled his head happily as he crunched. He lowered it looking for a good scratch behind his long soft fuzzy ears. His brown-black mane fell across his eyes in front and tumbled down his long neck all the way to the saddle horn. The small saddle had its stirrups cinched up short so I could reach them from the horse’s back, and a three step wooden staircase waited to help me get high enough to reach the saddle.
The pony wore a halter, but not a bit. The stable man said only advanced riders would ride a horse that needed a bit. “Joe” was gentle. I rubbed his velvet nose as we waited for daddy. Today was going to be very special. I really liked Joe.
© 2008 A.L. James
Added on July 17, 2008
A ghost town in Central, TX
AboutI am a 53 year old widow. I love life, and I love writing. My day job will allow me to go to conventions and events as often as I wish during the summer. I am interested in fantasy and sci fi. I l.. more..