September silence settles over the Keweenaw with misty rain. Pockets of tourists remain but the din of extra folks cruising the peninsula subsides. The woods exhale, the waves churn, and when the clouds part in the cool of night, the Milky Way burns bright.
With the equinox (fall in the northern hemisphere and spring in the southern) lining up next week, I felt the call of the wild to bring balance to all my professional pursuits. A camping trip was in order, a return to the sandy side of the Keweenaw.
Packing my car required a choice — camp kitchen, tent and comforts or kayak? Alas I could not fit it all. Comforts, by the way, include an array of layers for fluctuating temperatures, pillows, camp chair and firewood. My kayak stayed behind this trip with a promise to glide the Bete Grise sloughs before autumn leaves fall from their trees.
My friend, C, joined me at the old mink farm in Schoolcraft Township where a rustic campground offers ten sites along Big Traverse Bay not far from the desolate black sands of Gay. On an arc of golden sand, we set up at campsite #1. A family occupied #4, and the memory of a summer visit still warm in my veins lingered at #5. It was a quiet campground weekend, perfect for rituals of release.
C is a grief counselor who sits with people’s deepest losses and excruciating emotional pain. She led community workshops at her Ripley Falls Home of Healing before the 2018 Father’s Day flood and landslide hit her house. It’s livable but far from restored. Her backyard is filled with rubble from the landslide. When she was ready to begin workshops, the Pandemic hit. We’ve experienced parallel disasters, hers natural and mine veteran caused.
Together, we’d form a weekend retreat for two to release the trauma of homelessness and open up to the hope for a better future. We both live with uncertainty instead of stability on the home-front and yet we both work to help others find purpose in healing and writing. We needed to find our own healing path.
On Friday, after my last class at Finlandia for the week, we arrived to sunshine, wind, and crashing waves. We set up camp and I got into a battle with the ants. That entire spit of sand must be an ant metropolis! I struggled to find a flat spot to perch my tent without getting swarmed. Finally, we found a truce and I pitched my tent in the trail to the beach. Once settled, I headed to the waves. The frothy rollers reared up and the sun shone through like a lens. I tried to wade but water pummeled my legs with sand and riptides rippled beneath my feet.
That night we ate kale salads and cauliflower soup next to a fire that danced in the wind. Our campsite had a deep metal fire ring on a sandy knoll out of the trees and we watched it closely. The brighter the stars got, the less the wind blew. Finally, we had nothing but embers and shooting stars. We expected rain the next day and we decided to read in our individual tents until it eased.
We woke up to sunshine, not a rain cloud in the sky. That’s Lady Lake Superior’s doing. Hard to predict her impact. She was calm and inviting that day, showing ripples in the sand beneath her water where she had danced forcibly the day before. Many ripples held small stones. I bobbed in the water and then floated above the curious little pieces of quartz and sandstone. Leg cramps drove me to seek the warm sand of shore and I reluctantly left my mindless float.
Sand flies found my ankles until I buried my feet in the sand. Ants ran every direction in a frenzy of gathering food. I began to wonder if their scurrying meant a rough winter ahead. But like most things in my life at this moment, I’m trying to stick to the here and now. What is coming will unfold with or without worry. It was sunny and ants were foraging. Nothing to be concerned about. With curiosity, I watched them.
Later that day we held our ritual of release, naming emotions and circumstances to let go. We chanted with a singing bowl, and C’s dachshund howled, the higher our pitch. We smudged with sage and built cairns of our tiny collected rocks. We journaled and fixed beans for dinner, burning birch bark letters of release. Then the rain came. We retreated to our tents. Despite the beauty of the day, I found it difficult to shake the sadness.
Raindrops.
Raindrops.
Raindrops.
Each a meditation. Each a prayer.
And then a cotton candy sunrise broke through the mist and clouds. The rain stopped. The Lake let out misty breath caught by a warming sun of pink and gold. The sadness lifted but I felt no joy. Just emptiness. Until the Big Black Horse arrived.
At a particular moment, I decided to walk not to the beach, but rather to the road. I had heard the gronking of sandhill cranes and followed their call, hoping for one last sighting before they left. C and her dog still slept. The other campers had left, maybe the night before when the rain came. No one was around. No one. Then the distant rumble of a truck. I could see a trailer hitched and surprised it was not an RV but a livestock hauler. When I woman stepped out of the truck, my heart soared.
To me, it was a Captain Marvel moment. The one where Carol Danvers decides to rise…again. I took it as a sign to rise and claim my joy. I had released and now I was about to receive. A new door opened. In fact, I asked if I could help open that door. To the trailer, that is. She said yes and I helped her with a new horse and an enthusiastic golden retriever pup. She was experienced and courageous, taking the horse to the lake for introductions. I followed with the pup.
Meanwhile, C woke up and ventured to the beach. She told me later she saw a most beautiful sight — two women, a Big Black Horse and a dog. She wanted to wake me up, thinking I needed to see this vision. She had her phone so she filmed it for me before realizing I was one of the women.
There’s a reason the Indigenous call horses “big medicine.” You have to build trust with a horse. The woman I met was dedicated to that, leading her horse to water, walking her in the sand, familiarizing her with new territory. Eventually, she mounted the Big Black Horse and and walked the campground. I secured her dog in her truck, told her to honk when she got back if she needed a hand loading her horse. And off they rode.
I was beaming. Horse medicine is a always a good sign to me.
It’s been a good week at school. I danced for one of my classes. They laughed. I promised them a “sun” day on Monday. Weather Predictors are predicting sunny and 81 degrees F. I’m scheduling class outside on the green to read or work on research on their laptops. I will give them yoga and poetry (Joy Harjo) breaks! My other class shared their 99 word stories. It was interesting to note that the number one fear students expressed was that they “did it wrong.” I’m teaching them that recognizing their differences from the norms is the beginning of realizing their unique voice.
Tomorrow, I’m wearing a dress (again) and starting to get used to it. We get stiff when stuck in patterns. We need stability and framework but we also need flexibility and freedom to grow. I might dance again. Twirl my skirt. If I do, this is the song, I’ll be stepping out to:
September 16, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a Big Black Horse. It can be a horse, a metaphor or an interpretation of KT Tunstall’s “Big Black Horse and a Cherry Tree.” Go where the prompt leads!
Respond by September 21, 2021. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form. Rules & Guidelines.
A Wild Ride by Charli Mills
Clods of dirt flew. A big black horse thundered through the apricot orchard, a small child perched bareback, her knees drawn up to his withers, tiny hands grasping long mane. A woman in a kerchief ran, bellowing like a calf separated from its mother. Saucy, the Australian Shepherd with one blue eye, zipped past the woman and caught up to the horse, nipping at his hind hooves. The dog turned the horse around at the one lone cherry tree planted at the orchard’s edge. He trotted smooth as butter back to the barn. The woman wheezed. The child grinned.
🥕🥕🥕
“What is coming will unfold, with or without worry.” A timely reminder as the seasons change everywhere.
I’m glad you found a path back toward joy on your camping trip, it’s hard when thoughts and feelings are brought to the fore, fresh and raw. The clip by the water of you and the pup, and the woman and her big black horse is heartwarming, peaceful. A reminder to find joy in the present.
I’m not keen on dresses and skirts, too much to stress about: “will it blow up? Am I sitting right or can people see below? Ugh, gotta empty my hands to shift my dress just to sit down..” stressful, sensory overwhelm. But sometimes I wear them, they’re fun and freeing. I hope you find opportunity to dance more for and with your students, especially beneath the sun. Enjoy!
As for the prompt, I’m being drawn to my usual scenes and emotions when placing the horse within my sci-fi world. I wonder how I can change and challenge that. I don’t want to find myself stuck in a rut with writing sci-fi. Last week’s The Cooking Show prompt turned out to be a huge sidestep for me and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
I’ll be back with my response before long.
You got it, Rebecca — sensory overload, wearing a dress! I don’t know how women look so comfortable in them, but I now own two and a short skirt and I’m getting more comfortable. Trying to embrace style instead of shying from it but that’s a challenge for me not for everyone! We’ll see, lol! I think you’ll find it easier to break away from sci-fi once in a while, but I don’t think you are in a rut because you write in your genre. I like the way you figure out how concrete prompts can be flexible within a specific genre.
This was a tough one! I tried to force an idea and include a lot of complex emotions and details but the piece seized up. Too much telling, not enough showing. In the end I couldn’t honour the characters how I’d hoped, so I changed the focus. My intent to inspire readers and build optimism for the future and its tech became a guiding hand. I like what I ended up with, though this one falls closer to reality than science fiction.
Enjoy:
https://rebeccaglaessner.com/2021/09/19/whats-the-chance/
This was a tough prompt but you rode it out! I liked the flash but wish that kind of tech was more sci-fi than reality.
Rebecca, I always appreciate learning about another writer’s process. There never is a straight line between the story we can see in our mind or feel in our heart or gut. So what do we do? Exactly what you did — we experiment through different craft elements to release the story; we recognize how it is or isn’t coming through and adjust or change the craft element; in the end, we allow purpose to guide our writing. Thank you for sharing your process and your story!
What a glorious camping trip, Charli. That black horse was the best medicine for you. There are no coincidences, or so I am told. I love your story of the child and the big black horse. It reminds me of a horse adventure of mine, though there was no dog to nip its heels and send it home. Home was where it wanted to be, with or without me. But I stayed with it, only just. And it wasn’t a big black horse. It was a little cream pony, called Ice Cream. Thanks for the memory.
I love the thought of you dancing in class. It’s good to throw off the inhibitions. I was able to do that okay with the children. We enjoyed the laughs together. I’ve never had the opportunity to try it out with adults. I wonder how I’d go.
Stopping or changing the future is like trying to do the same to the weather. Let it be, Charli. Go with the flow, let the tides carry you to where you’re meant to be. You are so lucky to have such a good strong friendship with your friend C. A new season is ahead.
Norah, I’m happy you remembered your own wild ride on a pony named Ice Cream. What a great name for a pony. Those critters often have a mind for home. “Barn sour” is the term we used. Did you have such a phrase? I’m not surprised that you hung in there. You are tenacious! Thank you, I can feel the winds of change blowing. I appreciate the reminder that we can’t change the weather or the future. Does feel like a wild ride, though. But I’m tenacious, too. 😉 Enjoy your spring!
I hadn’t heard the term ‘Barn sour’, Charli but it may have been used. I hope those winds blow sweet and kind. Thank you for your spring wishes.
As long as neither of us has sour winds at the transition! 😉
And here’s my story: https://norahcolvin.com/2021/09/20/the-big-black-horse/
The Big Black Horse
The riders considered the available horses. Fergal chose the big black, Valentina the silver. They mounted their steeds and entered the arena. Fergal cantered to one end and Valentina the other. They steadied their mounts and faced each other.
“Let the contest begin! Charge!”
The contestants galloped towards each other.
Nearing the centre of the arena, Fergal’s black steed balked, tossing him off. Valentina wheeled her horse around, dismounted and raced to Fergal’s side.
“You okay, Fergal?”
“It’s only a scratch.”
“I’ll get a plaster from Miss.”
“It’s okay. Let’s go again. Can I have silver this time?”
“Okay.”
Norah, this reminds me how much I used to enjoy riding pretend horses at recess in third grade. Recently, a local friend shared that she and her best friend in grade school used to ride “horses” to school together. This makes me want to go gallop down my street!
That gives me a good feeling, Charli, knowing that it made you respond in that way. 🙂
A six am read was perfect. My fever broke in the night as at last I feel the end in sight. The sun beckoned me for the first time since last Friday though wobbly on fever worn legs I took myself wrapped in a blanket to the garden. Our pup happy to chase squirrel and pigeon letting them know she is back and all is right with her world. Her world was at my feet on the bed during the days of infuenza. The first chill of Autumn left a film of mist and dew on every surface. As I read your camping tale it felt the place to be, in the now with nature reading. Today my Mother is 90 my absence will no doubt cause a furore, Sometimes life disturbs the plans as in nature you have to let the ants scurry and it will deliver its own plan. Back to bed for me but the best few minutes were spent with you and your words, and knowing all comes good in the end, eventually the fever subsides.
Sorry you’ve been unwell, Ellen. Your mother will still be 90 when you’re fit to visit.
Bless you, I just thank the universe that it isn’t Covid, because if this is flu … I would not have escaped the clutches of covid so lightly.
I always feel bad when someone is sick, take your vitamin C and D especially D to avoid the dreaded virus out there.
Thank you I am doing everything not to get covid multi vitamins up to the hilt. X
Ellen, I’m glad to have shared a present moment in nature with you wrapped in a blanket in your garden, declaring the end of your fever. With all our Covid concerns, I forgot how miserable the flu can be. Your pup is a faithful one to have stayed at your bedside. Now, take time to rest and recuperate! I love how Anne reframed that your mom will still be 90 when you are better and ready to celebrate. I always like extended birthdays. Take care!
Thank you Charlie, I may have jumped the gun with the word cure but on the mend is right. Thanks again for sharing the moment.
Recovery is not always a smooth road but it’s going in the right direction!
Other people’s stories can be a heartbreak, Charli. It astounds me where the strength comes from. So often I am phased by things that are in reality very minor, or I lie awake fretting things that may never happen. I’m glad you both have someone to share your very real dilemmas with. I’d love to dance with you, but the sound on my laptop has gone AWOL and I’m clueless how to fix it. I’ll play the song on Spotify on my mobile phone later. Have a great week!
Oh, no, Jo! No sound for dancing is a dilemma! Sometimes my computer speakers stop working and I have to restart. I hope you find the fix. After all, ABBA has a new album. 😉
🤣💕
That beach looks idyllic, Charli, and I love the sound of the waves, something I miss from when I lived nearer the sea.
I’m not sure why you feel the need to wear a dress to work.
Here’s Patti Smith:
Knowing so little about horses, I might have tried to stuff too many issues into my story:
Beauty on the battlefield
“This devil’s yours, Sambo. Kraut won’t see you coming in the dark.”
The stallion had a malicious glint in its eyes, but the glint in the captain’s was meaner. Walter had never ridden before; Beauty had never seen action.
https://annegoodwin.weebly.com/annecdotal/war-is-over-but-the-trauma-endures-winter-flowers-transparent-city
The flash works. Glad Walter and the horse came to an understanding and had each other in such a hostile situation.
Oh, beat poet pioneering punk rocker, Patti Smith! Good call on the song, Anne. Though much more intense than the lapping beach, but I assure you those waters can rival a sea surge and bang to Patti Smith.
Well, normally I wouldn’t even consider a dress. They’ve long been a bane to me. However…I worked with a stylist to put together a professional wardrobe and she suggested a short skirt. I couldn’t believe how transformed I felt in it. Suddenly I remembered being 12 and trying to be fashionable. It took me 42 years but I arrive at my style finally and funnily, it includes a few dresses.
Your flash is a beauty! You may not know horses but you know people and you caught that measure of trust that builds between rider and horse, no matter how horrific for both.
I see, you like the outfit but it feels weird because it’s new.
I’m so glad you thought the flash works. I really wasn’t sure.
Yes — feels weird, looks good. 😀 I’d like to look comfortable in a dress the way you made writing about a horse relationship look easy.
Your flash got me in the feels.
And I’m delighted (and surprised) that you brought Patti Smith to the Ranch. I’m such a big fan of her life, her music, her prose poetry.
Horse Tales
“A black horse Pal? Seems anonymous.”
“Think ya mean ominous.”
“Did ya catch its name?”
“It didn’t say.”
“An anonymous black horse. Could be a portent.”
“Ev’ry prompt’s important.”
“Well, I’ve called on Logatha LeGume fer this one. She knows horse magic.”
“Logatha knows horse magic?”
“Oui, Pal. Some people read tea leaves, I read horse muffins. Keed, dees ees fresh from da black horse?”
“Yep. How’s it lookin’ Logatha?”
“I see horse tales in da future.”
“Ya kin see that from what’s passed?”
“Really Kid? This is horse puckey!”
“I sense you weel step in eet.”
“Aw, shift!”
But good manure for the Poet Tree in the Saloon garden.
You have to be very careful with horse manure, or oracle apples as Logatha calls it; compost the heck out of it to rid it of seeds.
Oh, Logatha! I’m howling with laughter beneath the Poet Tree! Kid did step in it.
Anonymous? It could be a horse with no name, or a horse of another color…
[…] https://carrotranch.com/2021/09/17/september-16-flash-fiction-challenge-2/ […]
https://sacredcircleforwomen.wordpress.com/2021/09/17/horse/
Your redirection on the idea of a knight in shining armor made me smile, Reena! May he keep up with her or find his own path.
Thank you 🙂
Medicine Horse
A shadow softened the sharp rays that pinned him to the sunbaked ground. He opened his eyes to see the soft nostrils that blew a cooling caress; saw an unshod hoof of the big black horse that nudged him until he struggled onto its back.
‘What big black horse?’ the townsfolk asked.
Recovered, he would avenge himself against the men who’d left him to die. But their horses, still saddled, a boot hanging in a stirrup, clattered into town ahead of the big black horse.
‘What big black horse?’, the townsfolk asked, for there was no sign of it.
I appreciate all the inspirations from the prompt today, so far my brain is still asleep; all I can think of is we should all be grateful we have a future. Hmmm maybe I can find a story there!
Relax, give the prompt its head, go where it leads, you’ll be sitting tall in the saddle.
Horse prompts are almost as tough as unicorns!
Read this several times in admiration. A stunner, D.
Agreed, Doug. D. struck gold on this one for me too. Writing horses is tough!
Not as tough as riding them. 🙂
Thank you.
It’s possible that protection and justice can look like a big black horse others can’t see. Big medicine, indeed. You know I love this story!
I didn’t but now am glad if you do. It’s where the prompt led. Thanks Boss.
I really love the ghostly mystery of this one!
A beautiful read with lovely sensory details. And it sounded a real tonic of a weekend.
It was good tonic. Thanks for reading!
[…] challenge from Carrot Ranch? In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a Big Black Horse. It can be a horse, a […]
Fair Play
“These aren’t like Lucienne’s team of Morgans.”
“No, they’re not Hope.”
“And they’re not like the horses we saw at the pull this morning.”
“They most certainly are not. These are fancy riding horses.”
Hope studied the high stepping horses in their fancy tack. “That one Daddy. The big black horse.”
“She’s a beauty, alright. And big. Are you sure?”
“Yes Daddy.”
“Do you want help getting on?”
“I can do it Daddy.” Stepping into the high stirrup and swinging herself into the saddle, Hope rode round and round while her father watched from the edge of the carousel.
I love seeing a young child’s whimsy and wonder and admiration honoured by the grown children around them. Hope’s confidence is brilliant.
Thanks. I’ve enjoyed these two, and not just because they come through for me when the prompts are tough.
It’s great to see Hope and her Dad emerge this week. Fairs are a great place to meet new horses!
I agree with both statements.
Clearly, confidence was well-deserved.
I don’t remember how a carousel and a merry-go-round differ – but I used to like riding the outside jumpers to catch the brass ring, which gave you a free ride!
Hi Charli,
Your weekend sounded glorious. I’d like to experience reading in a tent while it rained. I’m glad you have C. as a “sister.” Sloughing off pain is always easier with a friend who understands.
I enjoyed both the videos you shared and plan to listen to Tunstall on my speaker. A good folk singer is always welcome when I sew. And I’m glad classes are going better.
I’m practicing quicker action, Michael is too…
The Magic of a Silly Brown Pup
When Michael started whistling the tune to “Big Black Horse and a Cherry Tree,” Jester went into action. He raced from his master to the door and back several times while Michael donned his prosthetic legs. Once outside, Michael sang his own words to the catchy tune. “You’re a too tall mutt with floppy long ears. You walk in the trees with me. Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo. My chair stays home, where many think it should be. Woo-hoo. You’re as much to me as any big black horse could be. Woo-hoo. My silly brown pup runs along with me. Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo.”
Delightful tale, Sue.
Yep, you are first in line at the next karaoke event at the Saloon.
That aside, it’s so cool how Michael has gone from sullen wheelchair guy to donning his legs to walk the dog. You’re growing a strong resilient character right before our weekly eyes.
Sue, what great inspiration Michael found in the tune! I love hearing how you challenged yourself to a quicker draft. It has a great rhythm for Michael on his prosthetic legs. Folk music to sew by sounds perfect, by the way.
Loved that you included an Australian shepherd dog in your story (only we would call it a collie), Charli. I understand they came to California via Australia but were originally from Scotland. My beloved late dog, Flight, was a Border Collie. But I digress.
She’s an ethereal girl
Morris had tried everything to gain the attention of the ethereal girl on the beach where he walked every day but to no avail. Even when he borrowed his friend’s big black horse and rode slowly past, facing backwards, her gaze remained fixed on the horizon. So, in desperation, today he wore a straw hat crowned with flowers, crossed vibrant sashes and, with bells on his knees, danced past her waving two handkerchiefs and small staff made from a piece of driftwood. A smile illuminated her face at the sight of Morris dancing and she rose to join him.
PS – To those who sent kind words about Dad and his struggles to get the health system to let him go in one of my recent stories, just letting you know they finally acquiesced to his wishes and he passed away earlier this week at the age of 99. I am not grieving because he was not a good man or father but no-one should have to put up with the medical industry’s fear of death.
All the best, Doug…
Thanks, Bill, much appreciated.
Staying to fight for your father in the end, despite his past, is an honourable thing, I’m not sure I could do the same. Your response to the prompt was a beauty too, I’m a sucker for Morris’ kind of determination.
Thank you, Rebecca, for your kind words. Honestly, it was more of a matter of doing what Mum would have expected of me, despite everything. On a happier note, enjoy some more Morris dancing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCEuvvrU40c
Now that adds some context! I’d never heard of Morris dancing before. I love how you turned the tradition around to craft your response to the prompt.
Morris dancing… so that’s how that all began. Is this also according to Wackypedia?
No, too esoteric for Wackypedia. 🙂
I never fully understood the Aussie-California connection between the breed but it makes sense that the collies from Scotland were among the originators. I think Australia and the American West with their cattle and sheep ranches developed breeds hearty to desert or mountain terrains, smart, protective and instinctual herders (of children and runaway horses, too). What we called Australian Shepherds were gray, tan and white collies and popular in the back trucks of cowboys.
Your story made me smile. Often, it’s worth the dance to break the horizon gazer from their trance.
At last. I hope you have peace, perhaps having made it long ago, accepting you didn’t have the father you should have had. Your humanity to not wish ill on anyone says something better of you. Interesting to ponder the medical industry’s fear of death.
Thanks, Charli. Glad you liked the story. Here’s some more Morris dancing for you. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCEuvvrU40c Re the medical industry and death, I have some very strong views on the subject that never fail to upset people but someone has to voice them and I am a sufficiently cranky old bugger to do it anyway. 😉
I have never seen Morris dancing before but I think I’ve seen illustrations of the costumes somewhere. I see your story from a different angle now. Thanks for enlightening me! And if you ever want to vent, you have my email. 😉
I think D has a point with her question about Morris Dancing. But for sure, he who laughs hardest, gets the girl, and laughs last!
I am sorry for your father’s, and for your suffering. No one should have to fight so hard for a simple, straight forward wish. There is a time to let die on our own terms, and our time is not so far away. May Mercy dawn.
Many thanks, Liz, your words are deeply appreciated. Regards
Doug
[…] Carrot Ranch promptSeptember 16, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a Big Black Horse. It can be a horse, a metaphor or an interpretation of KT Tunstall’s “Big Black Horse and a Cherry Tree.” Go where the prompt leads! Respond by September 21, 2021. […]
Charli, was it a coincidence that I passed a possible horse ranch today? I remember once I did ride bare back…. a long time ago.
Here’s: Dreaming of Horsefeathers or Big Medicine?
(haibun)
Long day began at getting up early to take the grand to school. After that I visited my little free library and dropped off egg cartons and vases for the farmer’s daughter, that has a stand in her aunt’s yard across from the Little Free library. Then together we stopped to visit a friend who was moving. We stopped at a yarn store to use a gift certificate.
We then were meeting another friend for lunch. I saw them. Many horses on the way home… Maybe we could go riding this autumn?
suspended
single summer day
by a nap
© JP/dh
Horsefeathers; “slang Nonsense or foolishness. Often used as an exclamation to emphasize that something is nonsense. Oh, that’s just horsefeathers, and you know it.”
I’ve ridden a horse only once, as a teen on an end of year excursion with school, and definitely not bareback, but it was one hell of an experience. I’d go again in a heartbeat. Nothing else like it.
That’s cool that you saw horses at the time of this prompt. The signs all point to a ride! Saddle up Jules.
If we could find a ‘public’ place. Seems covid shut most of the ‘ranches’ down to only owners and boarders.
It’s Big Medicine to see horses, Jules, no horsefeathers about it! I like how you “suspended” the details of a single day. Your story has that end of summer winding down feel to it.
I stopped in the middle. That has to be one of the most boring songs I’ve every half-heard. Of course, my idea of music is Metallica.
Metallica is my personal preference too, anything heavy and loud, or complex and winding (i.e. Tool). I’m curious to give Tunstall’s a go though, later. Just to see what you mean.
Happy to see someone else write that. ☺️
I hadn’t heard of Tool before so I looked it up. It does have a heavy metal sound that is complex and winding.
Here’s my heavy-metal peeps! I’m super eclectic. Got into Metallica, Tool, Korn, System of a Down, Disturbed, et all when my kids were teens. I used to call it my suburban survival music. But I also listen to ambient sounds (Unicorn Room vibes), Ennio Marricone, The Carpenters, Olivia Newton John, Johnny Cash, Mary Gauthier, Cranberries, Enya, Yanni, Appalachian infused folk music, and Indie music (I Love WUMB, streaming out of Boston). My protagonist Danni Gordon has a heavy metal playlist! Okay, Joelle, I understand. KD’s your thing but I hope it inspires a rockin’ story.
My three faves are heavy metal, Debussy, and meditation music (which I go to sleep listening to at night).
I was shopping at Walmart last week to pick up headache medication and the stores speaker system was playing Rap. Yep: Music for the tone deaf. Someone must have complained because the Country and Western started being played before I left.
That switch from rap to C&W is enough to give a shopper a headache!
Check out Ann’s link to Patti Smith! <3
I’m chuckling…I would listen to the story in a rap song before I’d listen to heavy metal. As Frank Sinatra used to say, “I like the music to have few notes played, not many,” or something like that.
That’s the beauty of having so many different kinds of music. There’s something for everyone. Imagine a world in which only one type of music was allowed — a one world music.
Heavy metal is all about outgassing emotions and stomping on the treadmill for 40 minutes, lol! There’s story in rap? Actually, while not my beat, I have great respect for the origins of rap and how it has spread to indigenous communities.
Feeney’s Nightmare
Long after the dream ended, Feeney was troubled by it. Dream or nightmare, it was unusual. Sile had given him a middle-of-the-night shake, put her nose to his, said “You’re shouting.”
“Shouting what?” he had muttered. “I don’t shout.”
“No,” she had smiled, “you’re usually a quiet one when you’re dead to the world. Not this time, bucko.”
“So, what was I yelling?”
“Crikey, what was it? Mostly incoherent is what it was…no, it was…Mickey Mouse.”
“Really?”
“Or maybe Pig Pack Porous…?”
”That’s gobbledygook.”
“Okay. Maybe… Big Black Horse?”
“Mice! Pigs! Horses!”
“Maybe Tic Tac Dough?”
“Go to sleep.”
http://www.engleson.ca
Poor Feeney!
Ha! The cryptic messages of sleep disturbances. At least Sile is having some fun with it.
Or maybe Higglety Pigglety Pop? (Maurice Sendak)
I don’t do this all that often, cross-fertilize flash but I felt that Feeney needed one more kick at the can so here is a link to another sight where Feeney rose (almost) to ride another day…https://fictiontrials.wordpress.com/2021/09/21/swiftficfriday-week-93-winner/#comments
Feeny will ride it out, I think!
Hilarious, as we have come to expect, Bill:-)
We need the humor bookends from down under and up north.
While we are on the topic of horses, they are in fact the deadliest animal in Australia (eat your heart out snakes, spiders and sharks). Read all about it, along with some other amazing facts about my home country, including the fact that we export sand and camels to Saudi Arabia. https://fb.watch/84-92L1sIF/
Well, that was fascinating, Doug. Watch out for those horses! They probably threw their riders, spooking at one of those critters with a perma-grin. I had no idea about the camels. Nevada had camels at one time but they government rounded them up. They still have camel races in Virginia City. Once, in a rode parade in Carson City, NV, a camel spit at my horse.
Yeah, they’re great spitters, those camels 🙂
A pink lake and millions of camels. What great tourist attractions. My interest is piqued.
Let’s go, Sue!
I’d love to. Bucket list.
In both our buckets!
When something approaching civilisation returns, you must come and see for yourself. The locals are friendly and speak passable English. 🙂
I always enjoy your camping stories, Charli. And what the video captured is a tonic for anything, not just the morning blues. It’s lovely when we stumble upon something unexpected that lifts the whole day, especially when it happens first thing in the morning. I hope you have many more of those ‘Black Horse’ moments. And please dance as much as you like, and maybe sing too.
Thanks for sharing in that Black Horse moment with me, Hugh. The Lake is a healing place to go. She was lapping gently in the video. I’ll keep dancing. You, too!
[…] This story was written in response to Carrot Ranch Literary Community’s September 16 99-word challenge: […]
September 16, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a Big Black Horse. It can be a horse, a metaphor or an interpretation of KT Tunstall’s “Big Black Horse and a Cherry Tree.” Go where the prompt leads!
For The Love of Greek Tradegey.
https://wp.me/pbXssy-6T
Thanks for joining in, Christy!
Perhaps there will be pomegranates to lessen Winter’s sting.
[…] and action found at the Carrot Ranch where […]
You can find my participation here
https://myforever.blog/2021/09/18/and-the-winner-is-in-99-words/
One day not too long ago, a black horse was galloping through the forest.
Stopping suddenly because he heard a cherry tree speaking to its neighbor, the apple tree. “My fruit is much sweeter than yours,”
“You think so,” said the apple tree! The apple tree continued, “have you not heard it was the luscious allure of the apple that resulted in the fall of mankind.”
“That is just a fairy tale,” said the cherry tree.
“Is it?” The apple tree came back with an assertive voice.
The horse voiced, “even if a tale, the author chooses the apple.”
You did it! A black horse and a cherry tree! I love the sound of this, the fable qualities. And I seem to keep reading about talking trees these days, so there must be something to it.
Believe it or not, I could not think of how to create a story with a black horse and cherry tree together. I went to sleep thinking about it until I fell asleep and dreamt of this story.
You dreamed a fable, and brought back the tale from slumber. That’s going deep to follow the prompt, Myrna!
That was why I posted “believe it or not!”
[…] September 16: Flash Fiction Challenge « Carrot Ranch In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a Big Black Horse. It can be a horse, a metaphor or an interpretation of KT Tunstall’s “Big Black Horse and a Cherry Tree.” Go where the prompt leads! […]
For The Love of Greek Tragedy
There are no true words to describe my love of the one walking away back turned toward me. A winter affair, doomed to end when Spring came. My siblings had willed it. I’d argued, cried, lost.
Six months my hands wandered the length of his muscled body. Caressing his long silky hair shadowing his face, darker than night. Nuzzling my nose in his neck. Six months I’d ridden him daily, his strength bucking between my porcelain legs.
Now I stand on the shore of the river watching Demeter lead my stallion away, my chariot dead by the river Styx.
Heartbreaking, the tragedy summed up in the last tragic line.
Elusive
By Ann Edall-Robson
Around the dying campfire
old timers’s voices talk…
About the full moon
dancing through the clouds
and the vision of the big black horse
running hard across that ridge
Mares fleeing silhouettes
galloping towards the trees
the black horse nipping
at them, up there on that ridge
And when the moon sets
brining daybreak to its life
the ground is scarred with
hoof prints across that ridge
The stories of the elusive herd
be they truth or be they myth
does a big black horse still run free
up there on that ridge
…chasing wild horses
along that ridge
https://www.annedallrobson.com/99-words/elusive
I got goosebumps, looking up to the ridge and hearing the thundering hooves. If Bigfoot can hide, so can the elusive Black.
Full moon tomorrow my friend. I’ll be listening, watching… along that ridge.
Good use of repetition to set the mystic mythic tone.
So vivid, through silhouettes of dark night and white moonlight.
[…] This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a Big Black Horse. It can be a horse, a metaphor… […]
[…] Carrot Ranch Challenge:In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story inspired by “Big Black […]
Somewhat belatedly, my story for this week:
https://ceayr.com/2021/09/20/the-stallion-carrot-ranch/
May the thoroughbred win. Chilling. Well done.
Your horse is in time, C.!
[…] was for Charli Mills 99 word flash fiction prompt press https://carrotranch.com/2021/09/17/september-16-flash-fiction-challenge-2/ to join in or simply read all the […]
[…] Carrot Ranch Prompt (09/16/2021): In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a Big Black Horse. It can be a horse, a metaphor or an interpretation of KT Tunstall’s “Big Black Horse and a Cherry Tree.” Go where the prompt leads! […]
A horse of a different color? But maybe this only shows itself in the midnight hour…
Wild Horses Run at Midnight
“We’ll start you on Maisie. See how you do.” Her father smiled at her, one hand on the saddle, the other held out in invitation.
Josie swallowed, took a deep breath, and nodded. She could easily hop onto Maisie’s back — nowhere near as high the jump to Thunder’s back — with no need for a hand up. She and Thunder exchanged longing glances over the stall door, keeping him locked away.
Maisie nickered, brushing soft lips across stable floor, searching for scraps of straw.
Best she comply for now; Father wouldn’t approve of their clandestine, Thunderous midnight rides.
I like this kid! She’s holding out. (Shouldn’t dad be proud?)
Dad is a tad bit overprotective, eh?
“We’ll start you out…” I think Maisie has already begun! Ride on, kid.
I loved reading about your camping expedition, and how C visualized two women with the horse not knowing that you’re one of the lady. I’m glad a smile crossed your face when you saw that lady with the canine and the horse. Wishing you and C light n joy, and may the Universe guide you both.
Hugs!
I can visualize you wearing a skirt and dancing to the tune of KT Tunstall. Love the peppy music and your radiating smile as you’ll swirl to it will be worth each buck. $$$$$ 🙂
My take on the prompt for today: https://abracabadra.blogspot.com/2021/09/steady-gallops.html
Thanks for your encouragement and joy sharing, Ruchira! Hugs back to you!
[…] for the 99-word flash fiction challenge hosted by Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch. Click here to join […]
[…] This was written with the prompt big black horse provided by the Carrot Ranch September 16 Flash Fiction Challenge. […]
Here’s mine. It’s more of an instinctive story: https://jedigirlblog.wordpress.com/2021/09/21/black-horse-flash-fiction/
Your story gave me goosebumps, Joanne!
Racing the Horse
It was the autumnal equinox, and the maple leaves had already begun to turn a bright red.
On his way home, Aloysius noticed a big black horse cantering in a field. He wanted to run alongside the horse, but he was too slow until one red leaf fell.
Stepping on it, Aloysius suddenly sped up. More red leaves fell from the maple trees onto Aloysius’s path; he ran faster and faster until he caught up to the horse.
The horse began to gallop in response to Aloysius’s speed. Joyfully running together, the horse and cat raced around the field.
~Nancy Brady, 2021
I can see the cat’s glee when it is able to keep up with the horse.
There’s some fall magic involved!
Only on the Equinox!
What a sight to see, Nan!
[…] In response to Charli‘s Carrot Ranch 99 word flash fiction. […]
I haven’t been here in a while! And I’m a bit late with my flash but here it is anyway!
https://gloriawriteshere.wordpress.com/2021/09/22/the-headless-blacksmith/
Charli doesn’t collate the stories until Wednesday evening, so you aren’t late. Thanks for joining in and sharing your writing.
Thanks Sue! 😊
Good to see (read) you, Gloria! Sue’s right — I harvest on Wednesday.
Thanks Charli. 🙂