Each week, Alastair offers one of his photos to all Wordsmiths who like a challenge. You can join in the fun and add your story of around 200 words by clicking on the little blue linky thing at Sunday Photo Fiction My story goes over the 200 word mark this week, so I apologise for that, but hope you’ll enjoy it anyway.
Dad removed my blindfold and grinned. “Happy sixteenth birthday, honey.”
“Oh Daddy, she’s beautiful.” I reached out my hand and gently caressed the velvety nose. The mare nickered softly and nibbled my knuckles.
“We get a bonus with her too.”
“A horse float?” I asked hopefully, knowing how expensive a good one was.
My father laughed, “Even better. She’s pregnant.”
“Your kidding!” my voice rose to a squeak as I looked over the stable door. It was true; her belly was huge. She had to be very close to producing a foal.
“Dr Mitchell says she may not foal for a week, but we’re to call him if she starts and he’ll come straight over.”
We stared at each other – this beautiful golden creature and I.
“You’ll need to think of a name for her.”
Goldie? Sunshine? Bella? I couldn’t think straight.
After Dad left for work, I stood staring in wonder at my new baby. Well, she wasn’t really a baby, but that’s how I thought of her. When she had her foal, would that make me a grandmother?
And that’s when it happened…
“Honey, could you bring me some Oreo cookies and a bowl of those little round pickles.”
My mouth started doing fish impressions. “W-w-w-what?”
“I tried to ask the one you call Daddy, but he didn’t know what I was saying.”
I think I must have fainted, because the next thing I knew was my horse was blowing gently on my face.
“I’m sorry I startled you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to understand me, but I’m so glad you do.”
I stood up and grabbed hold of the stable door, which my horse had somehow managed to open. “But…I…did…did you really talk?”
“All horses can talk honey, but very few humans can understand them. You do, so it means we’re going to be the best of friends.”
I threw my arms around her neck, and laughed and cried all at the same time.
She nudged me and whinnied softly. “Now, about those Oreo cookies and pickles…’