A collaborative effort in creative writing.
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A collaborative effort in creative writing. |
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April 2001 Collaboration
Write a fictional story in which *you* are the main character. The story may be in any person (first, third...). Write about a life completely different from your "real" life. Take it in any direction you want. To help clarify the topic, some suggestions would be to write about yourself in a different career, or from a different nationality, or even as a different sex. You could have superpowers, or a talent you've always wanted but don't possess. It can be as long or as short as you'd like. Just have fun!Laura of ~Snerkology~ It Could Have BeenMy mother put me on the back of a horse when I was just five. Well, it wasn't a horse, really. At 12.3 hands, Tonka was an ancient Shetland pony with fur so deep even in summer, my hand would disappear when I patted his neck. My mother would lead him, walking. He would trot just to keep up. My legs stuck straight out over his fat belly. My sneakered feet would kick to spur him on. Tempery, he would toss his head and do a little hop-buck that never scared me, though he wanted it to. And my mother would laugh when I kicked again.My confidence on his back was never an issue. It wasn't until I was older that I learned to fear falling off. With Tonka, sometimes I would purposefully push myself back over his slippery rump. He'd stop cold, as he was trained. My mother would look back and I'd be sitting in the deep bark bedding of the arena, giggling, my head swimming in a hardhat sizes too big. She'd scold, pointing out how close my head was to his grumpy hind feet. Thank God for my mom. She gave me all the encouragement, all the opportunities, and all the support that I needed to get me to where I am today. A long, long road, and a long time coming. ******************** Nerves. Nerves always get to me before a competition. I run courses through my mind until I'm convinced I've forgotten them. My family has learned to recognize the purpose behind my distracted mutterings and distant eyes. Being in motion helps calm me, or at least keep my mind off of things. And so while I'm packing, and wrapping, and trailering, and braiding, and grooming, and saddling, I'm okay. But there's always a lag. Always. Ready up to two hours in advance of my ride time. An hour and a half before I can even warm up. And so I sit, and I stew. I fret, my palms sweat, and I get very, very quiet. Thank God my horse is calm. Hay is hay is hay, whether it's in his box back at home, or in a net strung up on the side of the trailer. Unflappable, he is. Huge, fast, scopey, and neat with his feet. A great find, and a good partner. Yesterday's dressage freestyle went beautifully. Our score ranked second of USET's riders, and at the end of the day the US was in position for the silver. Of course, none of us would turn the silver down, but like all Olympic competitors, we're really determined to get the gold. My nerves before a dressage test are rather less than a jumping event - I prefer the calm and stately rhythm. Pride manages to school his energy into extra snap in his feet and float in his extensions. We worked on that a long time, believe me. Finally, today, I'm up on his back. The great field being used for warming up is ringed with spectators and pointing cameras. Some horses spook at the activity - a tripod tipped over despite the efforts of a swearing camera man. The place is mobbed. Somebody really should control the crowd. It's rather different from NASCAR, after all. Pride is feeling good, though. And I love the feeling of 17 hands of Hanoverian frisking under me. He knows what today is. The cross-country event. 7 kilometers of logs, streams, piano jumps, hedges, in-and-outs, fences - all achieved at a full-tilt gallop. It's a good thing this is Pride's specialty, because it always gets me into a bundle of nerves. I walked today's cross-country course a total of three times. Once the day after we arrived, once yesterday afternoon, and once this morning. The overall deal seems to be narrow, dark jumps when under the trees, and wide spread jumps when out in the open. Thankfully few in-and-outs, though one has a tricky line which forces me to take it as two separate jumps instead of going it all at the point where the two fences meet. I hate that. They think to intimidate us with not one, but *two* downhills - one with a log cradle at the top, forcing Pride to land lower than his head; and one with a water jump at the bottom, but it's only probably six feet wide. The one he's going to hate, though, is the gate. Too narrow, I guess, but he never has taken them well. At least we get it over with early on in the course. ******************** Gah, my number's next. God, look at the crowd. People are going to be all over the course, hanging on every jump. I hope like hell somebody's out there to keep 'em under control. The last thing I need is some idiot running out in front of me. Yes, judge, I'm here. Just give me the nod. Pride's about ready to pop. He wants to go. Okay, it's just the first jump, kiddo. No need for speed at this second. Up and over. That line of trees is low when you're on a horse! Somebody ought to trim 'em. Cut rail fence, easy first go. Now on to that blasted gate. No, dear, I can feel you hesitate. Rhythm, rhythm, rhythm... Damn, I was holding my own breath, there. That's over with, anyway. Man, what ugly hedges! Never seen something so artificial trying so hard to look natural. Pick up the speed here in this open space... gotta get some momentum for this water complex. Now this is cool, a spread onto an island and then off it back onto land. Wonder if anybody's filling in the holes in the sand between riders. Up the steps... one... two... three... then that nasty cradle. Hah, Pride, surprised you that there was no land on the other side, huh? Your ears are almost touching. Good boy, good boy. Gotta lean back so you can get your legs under you. Man, from up here you can really see the crowd spread out. Good God, that palisade from the ground looks big, but from up here it's huge. It slopes harder than I thought. Gah, caught his back feet on the edge, there. Hope the brushing boots hold. Better pick it up a bit. If we were going slower you'd eat that clover on the piano jump, wouldn't you dear? Later. Hey, Pride, did you see a line I didn't notice? We conquer the in-and-out after all! Good boy, good boy... Shit. Breathe, for God's sake. That trekaner is narrow. Now I wonder why that doesn't bother him, but the gate does? Dang, it's bright out here. Not a good idea to wear shades in a cross-country event, though. Ah, good, shade. The cool feels good, but I hate jumping from light to dark. Good thing I could ride this course with my eyes closed, because I might as well be right now. Wonder what my time is. I should've grabbed an earpiece, but I figured the chatter from the trainer would distract me. Next time. Hah. If there is a next time. And I never thought when I was a kid that I'd pick up that ability to count off strides accurately. One... two... three... up and over, without even a stretch or hesitation. Hah. We're good at this. Oop. Pick up your feet, boyo. You knocked into the rail on that hayrack. Rhythm... rhythm... rhythm... Almost over. I know you're tired. Hell, so am I. Okay, here comes the last combination. Over the coffin jump, one last rail jump. Spur, spur... get a last burst of speed past the timer eye... Okay, we can slow down now, Pride. Can't wait to get my feet out of these stirrups. Poor guy, you're all foamed up. Good job. Good job. ******************** Dang, our time was good. If the team keeps this up, we'll be in good standing. One more day. One more event. After this course, the stadium jumping seems like a breeze. It isn't, I know - the jumps always seem narrower, taller, more stilted when I'm actually there. I'm actually here. Wow, what a transition from Tonka, to where I am today. I wonder what my first riding instructor would think of me - she never thought I'd manage the trot, let alone this. Hours on the lunge line at a sitting trot. "You must develop an independent seat!". Hah. Not only is it independent, it's liberated! A member of the US Equestrian Team. At the Olympics. In line for the gold. Wish my mom could see me. |