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A Second Chance

"The pain. The overwhelming pain. He screamed for help. No more was it a stallion scream, full of life and energy, but a horse's dismal cry for help..."

“He’ll be a champion.”
Those were the words spoken of an ebony colt as he galloped across the pasture with his dam. Those words meant very little to him at that time, but would mean an eternity as time went on. He was six months of age, tall for a weanling of his breeding, with a proud yet savage glare in his large and intelligent eyes. His legs were long and strong. No deformity or fault could be found in his conformation, even at that age.
“How much are you asking for him?”
The colt spies a rogue man standing near the fence, talking to his master. With his head held high with obvious pride and arrogance, he dashed at the fence, whirling upwards with a savage scream that was not expected from him at this young age.
The man stepped backwards, into the light where the colt could better see his harsh features, the coal black eyes laughing at the young stallion. For the first time in his short life, the colt felt fear. It was a bitter feeling deep in his gut that soon overwhelmed him into a convulsing shudder of hatred.
“Ten thousand.” The man with the coal black eyes took one last glance into the colt’s soul, smiled, and turned back to the owner.
“Done. I’ll have it to you by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll pick him up around the same time.” The colt watched as he left, his fuzzy pelt shivering in the noonday sun. 
----
Loading and shipping the colt to the man’s farm was no problem. Apart from his savage stallion screams, and his constant tugging on the rope keeping him in the trailer, the colt could have been called an angel.
They arrived with few true difficulties, but now came the time to take the ebony colt out of the trailer, and into his paddock. He wasn’t going to go quietly. He watched with his intelligent eyes as three men came up behind him. He began to kick strategically, and a gleaming smile came into his eyes as one of his young and diminutive hooves met his mark. The rough handed man fell backwards from the blow, into the arms of the other two. An extra man who was standing off to the side then ran up to meet the colt.
Unfortunately for the young stud, he paid too much attention to the man who fell than he did to the rest. Before he knew what was happening, his lead rope was untied, and rough hands held his halter. He screamed his stallion screech, and whirled upwards into a rear. He got no more than 1 foot upwards before his body came crashing into the metal floor of the trailer. His eyes were wide and panicked. What was happening? Nobody had ever treated him this way before.
Still in shock, his spindly yet muscular legs shuffled along until he reached the paddock, where, as soon as he was free from the hands, dirt flew up into the man’s face as the colt made his getaway.
A day passed... still without sight of the coal eyed man. Yet, the colt knew that something was up. Fear was in the air, and the screams of the other horses told him that whatever was going to happen, it wasn’t good. He paced along the fence line, his dark muscles rippling in the sun. His long legs quickly took him the stretch of his 50 foot paddock, and then back again. He tossed his head, and arched his neck with pride, before stretching it out and moving into a gallop towards the other side. It was a race… a race with the wind.
“Look at him run.”
The colt stopped briskly, and whirled around on his forelegs. His young heart thumped mighty loud in his chest, and his eyes felt like they would turn red from the fury he felt. He turned his proudly chiseled face, and his eyes fell on the coal-eyed man. The man was at, the most, 10 feet away, and was coming closer. The colt squealed, and took off away from him, ears pinned to his fine skull. His legs stretched long as he moved, faster and faster.
He realized suddenly that the man was purposely driving him away, so he moved even further away. At this point, the colt was at a full-on gallop around the field, his young legs taking the hard brunt of the tough ground.
Not being fully developed, his legs felt like putty that was going to bend and break. He screamed his stallion cry, but was not allowed to stop, so he raced faster, the wind whipping through his short mane. As he continued to race, his strength weakened- as did his spirit. He couldn’t run forever. He began to slow down into a slow canter. His eyes grew wide with fear as the man took a step forward, and raised his hands, palms open. The man was a tiger! A tiger that was going to kill him…
----
After that day, the colt was never the same. He was broken. His spirit was still inside of him, but unable to be truly free like it once was. Fear had taken him over. The coal-eyed man left him, a hot and sweaty colt that could barely stand.
Not once was the young stud touched, helped, or loved. Two years passed, and the colt began training. The coal-eyed man had leapt on his young and undeveloped back, and demanded more than the colt was physically ready to give.
At the age of four, he was competing wildly in difficult show jumping competitions. In the ring, he jumped 2 feet. At the barn, he was required to jump 4. Every time he leaped a jump, he felt as if his legs would snap.
“GO YOU BLASTED NAG!”
His ears were pinned as the whip came down on his lathered body. His muscles tensed as he leaped the fence, and as he came down, a shockwave of pain rushed through him. He heard the crowd scream. He realized that he was on the ground, pinning the coal-eyed man beneath him. In fear, he attempted to stand. But he couldn’t.
The pain, the overwhelming pain. He screamed for help. No more was it a stallion scream, full of life and energy, but a horse’s dismal cry for help...
----
Two voices floated down the barn aisle, echoing with the screams from a black stud in a corner stall. The first voice was quiet and soft, with a feminine touch to it.
“Poor guy… how long has he been here?” The next voice was a bit rougher, with a weak faintness hidden behind it.
“Nearly two years.”
“Really? And he’s still not warming up to anyone?”
“He had a tough life. He’s broken and fearful. We’ve made a bit of headway, but all of that went back to nothing when one of our volunteers accidently dropped one of the metal buckets into his metal water trough. Not that I can blame him.”
“How did he get here? He certainly is a lovely horse.”
“As best as we can tell, he was pushed much too hard for his age. We received him as the product of a show jumping accident. His off foreleg had nearly snapped in two, and he could barely walk, let alone run like he is now. We had a cast on him for months. The only way we were able to treat his wounds were if we sedated him first. But I’m afraid that he’s too far gone. We don’t have the funds to keep him, but we do have a vet who is well trained in euthanasia, and will make certain that he is in no pain when he dies.”
“Wait… is he sound?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact he is. The vet cleared him two weeks ago.”
“Do you think I could… well… take him home?”
“I don’t know…”
“I mean, I just think that he needs to get away from the chaos here, and into a place that will be the same every day. No new smells, no new people, and lots of room for him to run his heart out. I can offer him that.”
“We’ll see. He certainly deserves it, but I still think that he’s too far gone. But like I said… we’ll see…”

A special thanks to Kelli for submitting this wonderful story to us.  If you have your own, fictional or non-fiction story that you would like featured on our site, please email us.

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