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My Place Where Time Stops
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 Created on 6-21-07
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 Story Rating G
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The musky smell that whips across your face and enters your nostrils is strong. The feel of the aging wood scraping across your delicate fingertips. The crunch of the hay as you walk the dirt hallway. Stopping for a brief second to look upon one of God’s greatest creatures, the horse. They’re beauty unmatched, and unreal. Watching as she munches on hay that is barely there. Her noticeable jaw bone moving with each tiny bite, she made sure she wasn’t missing any pieces. Her muzzle sliding across her stall in search of another piece of hay that wasn’t there. The sound of her tail as it soars through the air at the imaginary flies. You close your eyes and take in the smell of leather, shavings, hay, and yes, even horse manure. You love the smells. It is the one place you feel free, where no one can find you.
As you continue to walk, two more heads peek out of their stalls. Their nickering makes you smile. Someone is glad you are here. You stop at the first head, the white blaze stopping at the tip of his nose. His dark brown eyes telling you a story as you look deep into them. The story of his day and how glad he is that you came. You rub his forehead just under his forelock; he likes it when you do that. Your head then touches his and you have a moment where you look into each others soul. That is a moment when time stands still and you are one. The glistening of his eyes from the dim lightening of the sun shows the happiness he has. You kiss him softly on his wet muzzle and he gives you a quick lick with his pink tongue.
Sitting on the ledge of the feed room you inhale the aroma of sweet feed. The molasses, oats, and corn smelled so sweet. Looking up at the wooden structure you smile, you helped build this. A piece of you lives within these walls. You stand stepping your right foot into the room. Opening the can, the captured smell of the feed is now released. Your hand dives into it, the texture of the sticky molasses is like sap from a tree attaching itself to your skin. The ends of the oats pricking your skin as you roll the feed around in your hand. Closing the can you step back outside and go to the stall on the end. King Ralph lives here. A big, bulky Belgian/Quarter horse who was pumpkin orange made his way over to you. He was an old man, grey hairs sprouting up around his black muzzle, and his gentle eyes. You open your hand to reveal the sweet feed you have. You feel the warm breath as he sniffs it out, the whiskers tickling your palm. You then feel the dry, rough feeling of his muzzle, as he sucks up the feed you pat him on the head stopping to turn to face the barn. You loved this place. The place where you feel whole, free, one with the animals. I know some of you may not get it and that is okay. This is my place. A place to get away from the chaotic world. A place to stop time and let it pass you by. A place where you feel, you belong.
As you continue to walk, two more heads peek out of their stalls. Their nickering makes you smile. Someone is glad you are here. You stop at the first head, the white blaze stopping at the tip of his nose. His dark brown eyes telling you a story as you look deep into them. The story of his day and how glad he is that you came. You rub his forehead just under his forelock; he likes it when you do that. Your head then touches his and you have a moment where you look into each others soul. That is a moment when time stands still and you are one. The glistening of his eyes from the dim lightening of the sun shows the happiness he has. You kiss him softly on his wet muzzle and he gives you a quick lick with his pink tongue.
Sitting on the ledge of the feed room you inhale the aroma of sweet feed. The molasses, oats, and corn smelled so sweet. Looking up at the wooden structure you smile, you helped build this. A piece of you lives within these walls. You stand stepping your right foot into the room. Opening the can, the captured smell of the feed is now released. Your hand dives into it, the texture of the sticky molasses is like sap from a tree attaching itself to your skin. The ends of the oats pricking your skin as you roll the feed around in your hand. Closing the can you step back outside and go to the stall on the end. King Ralph lives here. A big, bulky Belgian/Quarter horse who was pumpkin orange made his way over to you. He was an old man, grey hairs sprouting up around his black muzzle, and his gentle eyes. You open your hand to reveal the sweet feed you have. You feel the warm breath as he sniffs it out, the whiskers tickling your palm. You then feel the dry, rough feeling of his muzzle, as he sucks up the feed you pat him on the head stopping to turn to face the barn. You loved this place. The place where you feel whole, free, one with the animals. I know some of you may not get it and that is okay. This is my place. A place to get away from the chaotic world. A place to stop time and let it pass you by. A place where you feel, you belong.
Comments
Please Login to post comments| On August 19th 2008 101091 Said : | |
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Wow. You did such a great job describing just what the barn really does for you. So many times I have done all these things. Or just gone out to the barn and sat on the stall door just watching. I don't know what it is about horses and barns but they are relaxing and freeing. You really did a great job capturing that on this piece. |
| On June 4th 2008 max5892 Said : | |
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u really love horses don't u? LOL its really good |
| On April 25th 2008 irwinwe Said : | |
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i actually started crying. haha. this really hit a chord in my soul. i miss my horse so badly...i'm at college now and so i never get to see her and i miss the free feeling i used to get when i would go down to the barn in the wee morning hours. when you spend a lot of time around them they become as people, with their own personalities and idiosyncracies. they are ignorant of the petty problems of humans as well...and so when you are around them it seems like you are ignorant of your own problems. ah geez...i miss home. i miss my horse. and i miss showing and being in saddle and bridle lol (do you know what i'm talking about?) :( thanks for writing this though. i loved your description. |
| On August 29th 2007 bigearringsgir Said : | |
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That is so awesomely indescribable... you're right: horses are one of the most amazing creatures God has ever made :) |
| On August 14th 2007 nickandfallon Said : | |
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Good story. I reminds me of James Heriot's stories that i read as a kid. Its good to read about animals! |
| On July 7th 2007 crazkoala Said : | |
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animals are so adorable and pure. =) i love them. beautifully written |
| On July 5th 2007 Baillie010 Said : | |
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oo this is really good! |
| On June 25th 2007 xxcassiejayxx Said : | |
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good stor y! i like this |
| On June 23rd 2007 darkmatters Said : | |
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I love how you write about animals, it's so nice not to read something all about humans and just everyda human crap but something innocent and pure like an animals heart. |
