Post by Maxxie Ivy Dane on Dec 18, 2012 23:09:49 GMT -8
Maxxie
The halls of the stable were quiet, not a sound from the early rising horses or even from the cars on the far-off road. The only thing I could really hear was my own breathing, footsteps, and thoughts. In a strange sort-of way I felt like I was disturbing the peace or something. Some of the horses I passed by reached out to me in curiosity but as I went to pat their heads they were already going back to their early morning meals. They didn't all to much care about what I was doing after the first glance. It's not exactly like what I'm doing is oh-so interesting anyway, I'm walking. Now if I had ballons or something on my head then that would be interesting... and probably give half the horses here heart attacks, so not a good idea really.
I passed numerous rows of horses, and rarely saw the sight of an empty stall. Even if they were empty they always had a nicely engraved name of the horse the the owner, so some horse obviously lived there. Above the names were bronze plated numbers, reading from 1-whatever. I was only looking for one. Stall 47, near the west side of the barns. It over looked the outside fields of the Crossfire farms with a-bit of an outside area and less surrounding horses. There were also no other stallions on that side of the barn that I knew of so Hemy couldn't get us kicked out of the only boarding stable in town. He was a friendly horse, just the other stallions didn't know that.
Rounding one of the dimly lit corners I could see the reflection of the lights on the brass number 47. Through the outer bars too, I could see the black brute's silhouette, his head down. I moved down the corridor quietly the whinnies from the other horses could now be heard from within the barn. Upon reaching the stall door, a thick black crown with a with a white snip nose poked out of the doorway. "Ello Hemy, how'd ya sleep?" I knew that it was pointless to question a horse but in some ways I thought he knew what I was saying. Resting on a screwed in iron hook lay a tied electric blue halter that strangely was folded in a way I had not left it last night. I didn't think much of it and scooped it up, untied the latch and slipped it over Hemy's head while it was out side of the stall. The door made a rattling sound as it slid open and one of Hemy's hooves kicked it. The clanking sound was terrible, just an of mute whatever ugly sound. I shook my head out of reaction.
I took a hold of Hemy's halter and started to the way of the tack rooms and cross ties. It didn't take much to slip the big brutes behind in between the rail poles, he was quite a flexible beast. Clipping the ropes on to his halter he head rested on the ropes, making them taught. His back leg cocked in a way to say okay I'm good here. Across from the crosstie was the huge main tack room that held most of the saddles and such. The light was on which was strange, he was usually the first one to get in there. Who could be here?
The halls of the stable were quiet, not a sound from the early rising horses or even from the cars on the far-off road. The only thing I could really hear was my own breathing, footsteps, and thoughts. In a strange sort-of way I felt like I was disturbing the peace or something. Some of the horses I passed by reached out to me in curiosity but as I went to pat their heads they were already going back to their early morning meals. They didn't all to much care about what I was doing after the first glance. It's not exactly like what I'm doing is oh-so interesting anyway, I'm walking. Now if I had ballons or something on my head then that would be interesting... and probably give half the horses here heart attacks, so not a good idea really.
I passed numerous rows of horses, and rarely saw the sight of an empty stall. Even if they were empty they always had a nicely engraved name of the horse the the owner, so some horse obviously lived there. Above the names were bronze plated numbers, reading from 1-whatever. I was only looking for one. Stall 47, near the west side of the barns. It over looked the outside fields of the Crossfire farms with a-bit of an outside area and less surrounding horses. There were also no other stallions on that side of the barn that I knew of so Hemy couldn't get us kicked out of the only boarding stable in town. He was a friendly horse, just the other stallions didn't know that.
Rounding one of the dimly lit corners I could see the reflection of the lights on the brass number 47. Through the outer bars too, I could see the black brute's silhouette, his head down. I moved down the corridor quietly the whinnies from the other horses could now be heard from within the barn. Upon reaching the stall door, a thick black crown with a with a white snip nose poked out of the doorway. "Ello Hemy, how'd ya sleep?" I knew that it was pointless to question a horse but in some ways I thought he knew what I was saying. Resting on a screwed in iron hook lay a tied electric blue halter that strangely was folded in a way I had not left it last night. I didn't think much of it and scooped it up, untied the latch and slipped it over Hemy's head while it was out side of the stall. The door made a rattling sound as it slid open and one of Hemy's hooves kicked it. The clanking sound was terrible, just an of mute whatever ugly sound. I shook my head out of reaction.
I took a hold of Hemy's halter and started to the way of the tack rooms and cross ties. It didn't take much to slip the big brutes behind in between the rail poles, he was quite a flexible beast. Clipping the ropes on to his halter he head rested on the ropes, making them taught. His back leg cocked in a way to say okay I'm good here. Across from the crosstie was the huge main tack room that held most of the saddles and such. The light was on which was strange, he was usually the first one to get in there. Who could be here?
