by Brown*Eyed*December » Mon Mar 14, 2011 4:56 am
Trix raised her head at the sight of this injured horse. She backs away into the trees,scared and remembering the day her whole life changed.
She was just a weanling. Her herd was grazing near a ranch. The fence was barbed wire and there were horses on the other side. Her dad,the lead stallion,jumped the fence, trying to get more horses. Trix's mom and a few other mares,backed up to the fence, causing some of it to collapse. The lead mare was watching the other weanling and the filly. The colts decided to help, so they jumped the in near the mares. Then the rancher came out and saw. He grabbed the pistol and shot at the mares,killing two,the colt's parents. That spooked the herd,tame and wild. They stampeded.The tame horses just gathered nearby,but it spooked the mares,causing them to run. Trix's mom,the one who was most loyal to the stallion,other than the lead mare,stayed, trying to get him out. The stallion jumped,but landed on the fence. The rancher had shot a bullet, right into Trix's mom's leg,causing her to fall and the fence to go flying up. Trix's mom died when the barbed wire flew up and hit her neck. The stallion got a gash along his stomach. The rest of the herd fled, wanting to leave. Trix fell and the rancher's helper,who shot Trix's mom, came and got her. They tried to train her by whipping her and spurring the mare.She just got worse. Trix was with them from seven months to two.One day, the careless rancher put her in a stall and grabbed a whip. He lashed at her feet, causing the one year old to jump. He thought this was funny. He called in other hands,a few of which smoked, to watch this show. One dropped his lit cigarette. It fell unnoticed into the moist, moldy hay on the floor of the stall. After about an hour,Trix layed down and rolled. She played dead. The rancher opened the stall and ordered a hand to remove the body. When they turned around, the cigarette,which had been slowly sparking the hay, caught fire. A tired Trix jumped up and ran from the open stall, burning her foreleg in the process. She escaped,along with most of the horses, right before the stable ignited.
Trix shuddered at the thought. Her scars on her sides and foreleg aced. She snorted. That was just last year.Her burns had just healed and her wounds were scars,mentally and physically,permanent on her,with only other animals as witnesses.
(I know its sad.)
Theme of the week-Depressing old me.(Part 2)