Horses
An experiment in the 2nd Person
You see the sign that says "Horseback Riding." After begging your dad for days, he finally gives in and you go. You walk into a rustic barn--horseflies and hay are everywhere. The smell of warm sun baked hay waifts up to your nose as you fill out enough paperwork to drive a lawyer insane. You choose a helmet after trying on ones that simply stand ontop of your head and ones that cover your eyes. After a wait that seems like an eternity, you finally mount a strong, beautiful black mare. Your dad mounts a chestnut mare with a white diamond on its nose. With that, you start out on the trail.
It takes you a few minutes to get adjusted to having an animal sway under your legs. You go on a muddy trail, thankful that the horse is stepping in the swamp and not you. The horse infront of your horse decides it would be a good idea to stop for a snack, and your horse concurs. You laugh to yourself, realizing to a horse, the world is just one big salad bar. You start to move again, and the fresh mountain air combined with the gentle swaying and clopping of hooves drawes you into a trance. The trail-ride is over before you know it.
A few months later, you go into your drawer and draw out the faded, worn out jeans you wore that day. You can still smell the distinct odor of warm hay and horse. After deeply inhaling for a few minutes, you set out to find a paper and pencil to write a story.
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