This art is by Gonzalo Kenny
Hi guys! This is my first attempt at writing a story, about horses or anything else.This is a fictional story, it did not actually happen to me. Let me know if you like it. I would love to continue writing it.
Storm clouds rolled through the valley. The wind howled through the open door of our little cabin halfway up the mountian. The door swung wildly. Another cold gust burst through the door. I got up to close it. Settling back in my comfortable chair by the fireplace, I thought about going back out to check on the animals. Dad would be home any minute now, so I might as well go out to help him feed them. I went to the door and put on by boots, hat, and jacket. I pulled on my gloves, and, bracing myself, opened the door. Rain slapped me hard in the face. I scurried out the door. Lightning struck not too far away. Thunder clapped and seemed to shake the whole mountian. I pulled my flashlight from my pocket, turned it on, and walked to the barn. Opening the door, I hurried in. I turned on the lights and closed the door behind me. The goats bleated happily at my arrival. One of my goats, Clover, came up to me and butted her head on my leg. I smiled and stroked her soft nose. She nibbled my hand hopefully. “Hey, when did you get so greedy?” I asked her with a laugh. “Alright, let’s get you guys fed.” After I had made sure all of the animals were fed, also making sure our dog, Scout, hadn’t destroyed anything, and petting the demanding cats, I turned off the lights and closed the door behind me. For some reason, I started walking up the steep trail to the top of the mountian. As I reached the top, memories flooded me. I hadn’t been up here since Mom died. Grief washed over me as I thought about that had taken Mom’s life two years ago. Mom and I had been riding up here, on the mountiantop, together when a storm rolled in. We decided to make a run for it back to the house. As we made our way back to the house, Mom’s horse slipped on the muddy slope and fell, crushing her leg. She hit her head on a rock. That’s what killed her, the doctor said. A rock? I couldn’t blame a rock. The rock couldn’t help being there. So I blamed the horse. Phantom was supposed to be sure footed. My Mom’s silvery black stallion was the one to blame. Or at least that’s what I thought. The next night, I let Phantom go. Into the wild. I couldn’t bear to see him again. Dad wasn’t really mad. He was too wrapped up in grief to even hardly notice. He sold all of the horses after that, though. He could see that I hated them. After a while he tried to convince me to let him get me another horse. I refused. I swore I would never ride again. A loud clap of thunder scared me out of my thoughts. A bolt of lightning revealed something that made me gasp. My heart swelled with emotion as I looked at the silvery black stallion standing in front of me. A name flashed in my mind that I had heard Mom call him only once.