Trails and Confusion

Wrote this in about an hour. I was really sad because my mom told me my horse Jacks died a few days ago and I just couldn't get him off my mind. I know this really isn't a story.

I have always had a voice in my head that seems to know more than I do. It has a keen sense of when something has or will go wrong. The day my mom called my dad while we were waiting to go up the Eiffel Tower, I felt it. When my dad rejoined me and my sister I thought for a second then said "Is everything OK?" My mind immediately went to my horses.

"Yeah," my dad said, unconvincingly. It seemed to be a matter that shouldn't be discussed at a place so crowded so I left it alone. The rest of the day consumed me and the little voice left. 

A few nights later in London my sister burst out in tears. She said it was nothing, just allergies causing her sniffles through the night. Though I knew it was not the case I thought she'd tell me later because it was probably something she didn't want my dad to hear.

On July 4th, 2012, my dad, sister and I arrived back in the states. I had been planning the rest of my summer to be spent riding my horses or seeing friends. I was eager to get back to my horse because the next day I was to leave for a mission trip for my friends church. 

When I got home and found my parents coming near me I was confused. They both looked sad and torn, I didn't know what to say. The voice inside my head began to say I told you there was something wrong. My immediate thought was Sophie, our dog we've had since I was in preschool, about ten years ago. "Something happened," said my mom. She looked to my dad. 

"Was it Sophie?" I asked, though I knew that probably wasn't it.

"No. Sorry honey, but all of the horses died." I sat there, not wanting it to be true. I thought of what could have happened to cause such a tragedy and could only find one conclusion, I had left the gate closed and they'd been cut off from water, leading to death by dehydration, a death not even the worst criminal deserves.

"Oh my God." I cried, barely uttering the words. My eyes squeezed shut and my lips peeled back in the pain I felt in my chest. I screamed, I yelled out to no avail. In all my life I had never felt a worse pain. I had lost my grandfather a few years before which had really broken my heart, but this was different. It was totally unexpected. "All five of them?" I asked over and over. "But they were so young" I cried. "Oh my God". 

The emotions I expressed outside myself were much softer than those I felt within. My mind was racing, panicked. I kept on watching my horse Duke, my best, most faithful friend, die a painful death. "They watched each other die!" I screamed between sobs. I didn't understand, even more, I didn't want to believe. "Oh my God Ben. He was so young! Duke was so perfect. They didn't deserve it, nothing deserves that!" I could help but squeeze the blankets and pillows beside me until my hands turned completely white. 

My parents tried. They rushed to me as soon as I absorbed what I'd heard. I shoved them off and ran up the stairs, still trying to piece everything together, to understand what happened. "My baby, my beautiful baby," my heart cried for him. I shoved papers on my desk aside, looking for every picture I could find of him. The first one I found I held close to my heart, not wanting to let a single piece of him go. 

I fell asleep. The next morning I rose early, realizing that I was leaving that morning for the church outing and still hadn't begun to pack. My parents offered for me to stay. "No," was all I gave them, making it sharp and deliberate. I wasn't going to let this stop me, I told them. In my mind I was screaming I can't stay here, I need to get away. I packed hurriedly and left to meet the others for our departure.

The whole week I didn't let myself cry, even when I was alone. I would look through the pictures I had of the horses on my phone and tell myself what a terrible person I was. I tried to eat and drink as little as possible after realizing that I deserved nothing.

When the week was up and I returned home my attitude changed. I walked in and saw a picture a friend of my mom's had painted, a replica of a picture taken a few months before of me kissing my beloved palomino's cheek. A lock of his mane balanced on the top corner, and there was a stone nearby with all of the horses names engraved on it. I looked at all of these things and saw my mother, no longer able to suppress my sobs I ran to her and cried. I couldn't take this any longer.

My mom began showing me pictures of horses for sale. She showed me the picture and videos for a horse my sister Dorian was getting. Then she told me we already bought a horse for my dad and she needed to check on him soon. I offered to tag along. 

The large paint was easy to approach as we moved him toward the barn. He was lonely, all he had were the longhorns who managed to escape my horrific carelessness. I watched him being ridden and then I rode him. I wasn't familiar with western pleasure as I'd really just been riding my Quarter Horse bareback until he'd get tired. He seemed rather calm and gentle, just the kind of horse we needed.

After a few days my mom convinced me to see a horse she thought was perfect for me. He lived a while out and was a little expensive but my parents thought him worthy. I watched his videos and he looked like a solid horse.

We went out to meet him one evening. It was a hot summer night. We pulled up by the barn and all of our attention went to the gorgeous chocolate palomino Quarter Horse before us. He had been tied to a metal rail while the owner went off to get something.When he returned we began to talk about what kind of riding I did and how experienced I was. He got on first, I did after. He was perfect. I literally cannot describe a better connection than those first few minutes I spent with him. He responded to my every move and seemed to know what I wanted to do better than I did myself. I knew I wanted him before I even looked at my parents. When I got down from his back I was beaming, ready to buy him then and there. We took him back to the stalls where he was kept and said goodbye to the owner, promising to call him back.

The next day my sister was going to pick up her horse after riding him one more time, and my mother wanted me to try one of the horses they had there. His name was Roma. He wasn't very pretty as compared to the other horse, he was also too jumpy and not mature enough for me. I had my heart set on the other.

I went back to see the chocolate palomino they called Chocolate (in Spanish) a few days later. I tried him out in the arena this time, as the sun had already rested among the stars. The arena was still filled with beer cans and water bottles from the last rodeo of the season. Chocolate stepped on a water bottle that made a loud crunch, a noise that would've made any other horse jump. He calmly continued in his smooth canter, paying no mind. After having ridden him again, I was even more sure of my decision to get Chocolate. I begged my parents but again they told me they had to think about it. We left without buying him.

It was July 21st, 2012. Weeks had passed and I was at the ranch with my family minus my two older sisters getting the horses from the pasture. We still only had two and they'd grown quite fond of each other. As we put them in their stalls and poured a scoop of grain into each of their buckets, a long cattle trailer pulled up. My mom talked to the person that was driving and asked me to come tell her what I thought. In the cattle trailer there was a horse that suspiciously like  Chocolate. I walked around for a while, not wanting to get my hopes up in case it wasn't really him and I was delusional, but there he was. I didn't seem excited when he got out of the trailer for I was guarding. My mom took dozens of pictures of us and talked to the woman who brought my new horse. 

I looked over Chocolate's papers and found his real name was Star Jacks Mega Bucks. I renamed him Jacks. I loved that horse more than anything, the voice hadn't spoken recently, and I was in a state of euphoria. Life seemed as perfect as a girl who had suffered a great loss only weeks before could. He was perfect. He didn't like water or wormer, but if pushed enough would give. I would gallop on him bareback through the hills and pastures, knowing I wouldn't fall. He never once did a single thing bad. I have sat for a long time thinking over how he never once didn't do exactly what I asked of him. Me and my friends could double on him, ride him with just a halter, ride him with nothing, it didn't matter, he obeyed. 

More weeks passed and we got one of our old horses who hadn't been here during the tragedy returned to us. He recognized his old home, I felt terrible. Months after he'd left for Oklahoma we had the horses moved into another pasture across the fence. He wasn't used to being on the other side, and would pace up and down, desperately trying to glimpse his old family. He found the new horses and was considered what we believed an outcast. He and the other horses would chase after each other then run away. After a while he went off on his on, running up and down to fence, seeking something never to be found. I thought of the torment and anguish he was going through, wishing to be able to explain what I had done to his brothers. We left him and came back a while later to see that he'd gotten to the other side of the fence. 

Many people rode Jacks in the next few months. He was the kindest, most trustworthy horse of all of the four we owned. We went to ride with two exchange students that were visiting for the weekend. One of the other girls rode Jacks. He had been eating and acting fine, though I was concerned with his weight. I left that evening for the first time without kissing and hugging him goodbye. He stood alone in the corner and I was blocked off because the three other horses were looking over the gate. 

My growing concern and awareness probably came around the same time the voice returned. It predicted what was to come.

On Monday December 10, 2012, my parents were acting strange. My mother seemed rather sad and was suddenly ill. My father was more lenient than usual. There's something wrong. The voices whispered to me. 

Tuesday December 11th, 2012. It was cold. I usually drive home after school but today I didn't want to have to make my mom get out of the car to walk around to the other seat. She asked me why I didn't want to drive when we drove off and I told her. She looked sad and didn't seem to know what to say. We got home and I plopped back down on that same couch I sat on July 4th. My mother walked over and sat down, her eyes never leaving my gaze. Words began to run out of her mouth, but she didn't have to tell me. I pulled back deeper into the couch then covered my mouth with my hand. "Oh my God. Did Jacks die?" I asked, already knowing the answer as the voice had told me the day before. My mother nodded and I would see the tears in her eyes through my own. "Of what?" My mother explained that this time it was colic. It reminded me of when Duke had gotten colic a year or so before and how we'd detected it early enough to get to the vet. As this happened to Jacks on a Monday morning, nobody but our neighbor had been there. He watched him die, my angel I believed had been sent from heaven to save me from the horrors of what I would otherwise have gone through alone had it not been for him. I had seen him a day before and not noticed any signs of colic.

My last memories of him are what kill my soul. I see him standing off to the side, looking at me with sad eyes, and me, walking away without doing anything but handing my dad a treat for him. The same thing that happened with Duke happened with Jacks. I felt I didn't deserve them and they didn't deserve their death. A horse like Jacks deserves to die of old age, not colic. I wasn't the last person who rode my horse in either case. I cannot even list all the regrets I have about his life. In the nearly five months I had my angel I had overcome my self- hatred for the death of my five boys Indy, Duke, Ben, Commander, and Thunder.

Now, I am again left with terrible feelings. I wonder how I couldn't realize he had colic. I hate myself for not noticing. If I had noticed, he would have lived. I didn't deserve a horse like Duke or Jacks, and I sincerely hope they can meet in heaven. I don't think the wounds will ever heal, and my eyes fog with tears as I write this. The 'what ifs' have consumed me, and now I am left wondering why God sent something to me to take it away so soon.

Author's Note

Ignore every mistake you found because I wrote this at twelve while crying..and I'm 15 and don't read or write but needed to do something with this other than just leave it in my computer. I might write more in later and make it longer.