Short Story:
[From James Refulik's point of view]
It was a long ride home.
The road was quiet and the nickering of a young mare, riding in the trailer behind me, floated into the open windows of my truck. Maybe it was an odd thing for a twenty-seven year old man to be so comforted by the sound, but then maybe it wasn’t. Either way, I couldn’t care less. To me, the beautiful neighs and the light stomping of her hooves were amazing-- magical even. This beautiful mare had been tortured for years and still she loved life. That-- that was something extraordinary; that was why I started the stables. Horses didn’t deserve to be dismissed as ‘ill-tempered’ and ‘bad’ simply because they’d had a rough past. They’re every bit as capable of rehabilitation as humans, if not more so.
Who’s to say that we should throw them away like trash because they’ll ‘take up too much time and money’? Why someone would discard such a beautiful animal for such asinine excuses I will never understand. This mare in the trailer behind my truck- this mare will be one of the best horses at the stables regardless of the hell she’s been through.
I felt my eyes grow heavier each time I blinked, but still I continued to drive. The mare riding behind me must have fallen asleep some time ago, for the comforting nickering and symphonic noises has ceased a few cities back. My hand pulsed with a slight ache from gripping the steering wheel for hours at a time and frost bit at my eye lashes as I drove onward. The darkness was broken only by my headlights, and those of the occasional passing car, and the air was still. Everything was rather quiet.
I didn’t like the quiet; I never had.
“You spend too much time at the stables, James,” Danielle scolded me, hand on hip. “Why don’t you ever go home?” She continued to scold me as though I were still a child. I shook my head and looked back down to my paperwork, but she wouldn’t accept this answer. Finally, I responded, “Since I don’t have a family to go home to my family is here. Besides, it’s much too quiet at my house.”
My eyes flew open.
I made a hard left turn as the mare whined frantically. I narrowly avoided a tree as I got back on the road, scolding myself silently. I’d almost killed myself and a beautiful horse. Quiet. The quiet was to blame. At least, it was for the moment. I thrust out my arm to the passenger’s seat and felt around on it. My hand soon found a cold, metal object-- my ipod. I shoved one of the headphones into my ear and turned on the music. I only needed to stay awake until I could find somewhere to park and get some rest. Where that place would be, I had no idea.
The cold wind streamed in through the windows of my pick up as I drove faster and faster. My eyes darted from one end of the road to the other, searching for a place to park. Finally, I came upon a small gas station. I pulled into the empty parking lot, pulled out my headphones and put the truck in park. Maybe now I could get some rest.
Sunrays awoke me in the morning and I yawned, blinking. The digital clock in the dashboard flashed 6:13am. And even at this early, the mare had begun to make her sounds again. I laughed at this as I pulled out of my parking space and started on the road again. We passed through city after city and the mare’s music never stopped-- not once. After several more hours, we finally entered the boarders of the state where we were headed. The mare’s sounds were even more comforting now than they had been when we started this trip. Even more hours passed by and finally we came across Silver Trinket Stables. I pulled around the drive way and into the parking lot.
Slowly, for my foot was half asleep from being still so long, I made my way to the trailer and opened the door. I clicked my tongue and, obediently, she walked forward and allowed me to grab her halter. Gently, I tugged on the halter until the mare stepped out. She snorted and looked around nervously, unsure of her surroundings. Smiling, I led her around to the barn. She showed obvious signs of abuse, both mentally and physically, but I was sure that I could rehabilitate her; she would make a fantastic horse and a great addition to the stables.
I led her to the closest empty stall and she stepped in without hesitation. After I shut it, she turned around to face me. The mare began to stomp her hooves in a melodic symphony and snort at me. She sure did like to make these sounds. They were always so beautiful, too. Rubbing her head, I decided on a name for her.
“Welcome home, Symphony.”
