Fighting for the Finish- Continues

“That is weird,” she said looking at the clock. “It is only 6:30 in the morning. Who do you think was calling?” she asked, as the cute little calico kitten jumped into her lap and she fed it a tiny piece of her croissant.

 

“I don’t know. I hope it wasn’t Beth,” I responded, knowing I have a tendency to think the worst. I didn’t want Beth to know that I wasn’t staying at her house at night. I would come early in the morning and then leave around nine or ten at night. Every day I would set the home alarm and take her gigantic black Doberman Pincher, Alfred, to my house to share my bed with me and my dog, Amy. I wanted her to enjoy her vacation. I didn’t want to bother her with any suspicion that anything was amiss at her home. I admitted that I couldn’t even formulate exactly why I couldn’t stay there.

 

We began our routine of letting the horses out one at a time into their designated pastures. I would start at one end, and Sharon would start at the other end. I took out the boarding horses and Sharon took out the docile lesson horses. At the end was a beautiful black Thoroughbred named Thunder. He was over seventeen hands high and his presence struck awe in all that met him. I reached up to attach the lead line to his leather halter and opened the door wide to get him to his pasture twenty feet away.

 

As soon as my foot graced the threshold, the phone rang.

 

I pushed Thunder back into his stall, and he unhappily shook his head at me. I ran as fast as I could to the office. I pushed the door open so hard that it knocked into the door stop and all of the papers on the desk flew off. I was determined to get this call. Again all I heard was the “nnnnnnnnnnn” sound of an empty line. I sat on top of the desk puzzled. It was now 6:42 and there had already been two calls. Someone must need me, I thought.

 

I started to gather the papers and neatly place them on the desk. I waited for a few minutes until I heard Thunder’s whinny for me to come back to reality and set him free. I left the office door open so that there would be nothing but a clear shot from the stalls to the phone.

 

I snapped the lead on Thunder once again, and as soon as my foot hit the cool concrete of the aisle, the phone blared out again, piercing the air. I pushed the big black Thoroughbred back into the stall again. This time, he jerked around and tried to pull me back into the aisle. He pinned his ears and made a menacing face as if he meant to harm me if I didn’t let him go. I insisted and shut the stall door just in time as his teeth bore down at me.

 

The feet of a gazelle could not have run faster than mine, and I slid across the desk like a baseball player rounding for home. But it was all to no avail, as I reached for the phone all I heard was that same “nnnnnnnnnnn” sound.  I slammed the phone back into its cradle. This time I pulled the phone off of the desk. As it precariously sat in the aisle, it would be easier for me to reach should it ring again.

 

I walked back to Thunder, and told him that I was sorry. He paced and pranced in the stall arching his neck, and each muscle rippling in the sunlight. He did not trust me, and I could not blame the big fellow. I opened the door and started to walk him outside into the crisp beautiful morning. He started to pull in anticipation of having a great gallop around the field.

 

As soon as I let him off of the lead, he reared and struck the air with purpose. As he landed, the sound of thunder could be heard from his mighty hooves. Then he sprang into a full gallop, completing five large bucks.   He was beautiful and majestic. Glancing over his shoulder, he paused to see if I was watching his grandiose show of power and might, and then he shook his head as if he knew I was admiring his antics.

 

Suddenly I heard the faint ringing of the barn phone. I sprang into action, running like a world-class sprinter. In record time, which even Steve Prefontaine, the world’s greatest runner, would have had a hard time to beat, I jumped across the aisle and impressively reached for the phone. Breathlessly, I breathed into the receiver and heard the aggravating “nnnnnnnnnn” sound of a dead phone.

 

 

I screamed as loud as I could, “I hate this haunted, weird, demonic place! I can’t take it anymore! I want out of here!” I voiced what I had repressed over the past few days that the truth of it caught me off guard. I was in a place of uncertainty and strife, where I was not in control, and its unfamiliarity made me angry……………….

Read more tomorrow………………………

 

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