Archive for July, 2008

On A Blind Horse

I was terrified. It was just me, on a blind horse.
My Dad was living in a little red shack on a farm. The woman that owned it was alone except for the animals.
Her name was Virginia; she had wiry gray hair, a square jaw, and a take no bullshit type of attitude. The only time she looked happy was when she spoke to her peacocks, which she let in and out of her house like they were her children.
For extra money she taught horse riding lessons. My Dad was helping out with the farm to pay rent and I think he offered Virginia more labor so that I could go on a couple rides.
She told me the horse knew the trails just as well as the ones that could see. I stared at the horse then at my feet. One of the older girls helped me saddle up and made sure my straps were tight, I decided I’d ride as near to her as possible. We left the farm at a slow pace and about a mile in I started to feel much better.
“Trot,” Virginia commanded from the front.
She started and all the other horses followed, soon we funneled onto a smaller trail. I was the last in the line with the older girl trotting slow in front of me. She looked back and said, “Lean forward a bit and remember you control of the horse. It’ll be fine.”
From up ahead I heard Virginia’s voice say something quick and short, the girl looked back and gave me a reassuring smile. In an instant we tripled in speed and I forgot how to hold my reins correctly. I gripped onto the neck of the horse. I passed my friend who was yelling directions. I passed the rest three at a time. I was pulling on the reigns as hard as I could but the horse was in full gallop and didn’t seem to notice. The hill was steep and tears were streaming across my temples. There was a flash of concrete and yellow line. I wailed something inaudible.
The hoofs made a new sound on the pavement. I pictured a car barreling around the quick corner. The horse made a sharp right and transitioned to a slow trot. Once I caught my breath and released my grip I heard Virginia laughing behind me, “Lead us on home.”