Post by mjvlyrics on Dec 20, 2008 11:44:10 GMT -5
Haunted Equus
The day started off like any other day at the racing stables. The grounds were slightly damp with dew and the horses were eager to eat. They waited for the stable hands to come with the grain for almost an hour later than normal. Finally what sounded like laughter reached the impatient horses ears. The started stomping and rearing in annoyance. The spoiled race horses didn't appreciate the wait and the schedule change. A routine was there for a reason and they liked it, and it was all about to change.
The dirty blond haired boy walked into the stable isle, youth visible in his boyish face as he puffed his cigarette. Nickering echoed around the stalls as the horses recognized the boy, he was the one who fed them. The mare who was stalled the closest to the entrance, was right next to the boy. She was not a racer, for she wasn't a purebred Thoroughbred. She was an Anglo-Arab (Arabian X Thoroughbred) and she was reminded this daily. She waited calmly for the boy to call her a mutt as always but the words didn't come. A strange gurgling sound was coming from the boys throat. A liquor bottle fell out of his coat pocket, smashing on the cemented ground.
The anxious thoroughbreds stomped their stomping and all went quiet as they stared at the stable hand. He fell to his knees, shaking desperately. A seizure overpowering him. The lite cigarette flew from his hands into the liquor he had spilled. Before they knew it, the stables had erupted into flames. Fire licked at every surface, the thoroughbreds were locked in their 'comfy' stalls. They were all doomed and they knew it. The mare just stood, looking sadly at the boy who lay on the ground.
The stable owners' daughter ran into the burning barn, screaming and shouting for help, tugging on all the locks. She ran to the mare, her eyes damp with tears. The mare just looked back at her, for this girl was the reason she still lived on this farm. The girl and the mare loved each other. And as the girl clung onto the iron bars that made up the top portion of the stall, the fire had reached into the tack room, where the furnace was. The heat was over-whelming, the screams deafening. A hazy look was all over the barn. The little girl began to cough and as the fire reached the furnace a ticking sound could be heard. It sounded like a bomb. Then the explosion came, destroying everything....
Not a single equine survived the incident, nor did the stable hand and the owners daughter. The owners had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard of again. A tourist might drive up the driveway now days to see the beautiful lands here. The once thriving race track now looked like a garden of flowers and grass with trees here and there. When the tourists come, they can hear this whistling of a tune from a little girl about the age of ten. Some can even catch a glimpse of the mare standing next to the little girl.
They tourists seemed to come more and more frequently but finally the mare and girl had enough of the disturbance. They started scaring them off, and now the tourists haven't been seen in almost a decade. The little girl is still there along with the mare. Now many other 'ghost' equines have filled in the empty places. Horses from all over that had survived many accidents have come to this place, they now live in the stable yard, thriving off the the vegetation that once was so scarce. The mare that had died in the fire is now considered the lead of the ghost horses for this land; her name is Rasheeka. A grand Thoroughbred stallion leads the living horses; his name is Colateral. Colateral and Rasheeka communicate regularly but the others do not know about it. The living know nothing about the dead, if a glimpse of a spirit is seen, then it is told it is the fog. The dead know nothing of the living, they see them, but are told that if they leave their land (the graveyard or haunted forest) they will forever disappear into a world of nothing. Some dead have figured out that this is not true and a few living have found out about the dead. Some even talk but are told they are crazy in the mind and that it didn't happen.
It Happens. So now this is where you come in. Play by the rules? or eh... how about upset the balance? Difficult choices are to be made, but this is what the world is here. You're either;
::Dead or Alive::
Our Banner::
The day started off like any other day at the racing stables. The grounds were slightly damp with dew and the horses were eager to eat. They waited for the stable hands to come with the grain for almost an hour later than normal. Finally what sounded like laughter reached the impatient horses ears. The started stomping and rearing in annoyance. The spoiled race horses didn't appreciate the wait and the schedule change. A routine was there for a reason and they liked it, and it was all about to change.
The dirty blond haired boy walked into the stable isle, youth visible in his boyish face as he puffed his cigarette. Nickering echoed around the stalls as the horses recognized the boy, he was the one who fed them. The mare who was stalled the closest to the entrance, was right next to the boy. She was not a racer, for she wasn't a purebred Thoroughbred. She was an Anglo-Arab (Arabian X Thoroughbred) and she was reminded this daily. She waited calmly for the boy to call her a mutt as always but the words didn't come. A strange gurgling sound was coming from the boys throat. A liquor bottle fell out of his coat pocket, smashing on the cemented ground.
The anxious thoroughbreds stomped their stomping and all went quiet as they stared at the stable hand. He fell to his knees, shaking desperately. A seizure overpowering him. The lite cigarette flew from his hands into the liquor he had spilled. Before they knew it, the stables had erupted into flames. Fire licked at every surface, the thoroughbreds were locked in their 'comfy' stalls. They were all doomed and they knew it. The mare just stood, looking sadly at the boy who lay on the ground.
The stable owners' daughter ran into the burning barn, screaming and shouting for help, tugging on all the locks. She ran to the mare, her eyes damp with tears. The mare just looked back at her, for this girl was the reason she still lived on this farm. The girl and the mare loved each other. And as the girl clung onto the iron bars that made up the top portion of the stall, the fire had reached into the tack room, where the furnace was. The heat was over-whelming, the screams deafening. A hazy look was all over the barn. The little girl began to cough and as the fire reached the furnace a ticking sound could be heard. It sounded like a bomb. Then the explosion came, destroying everything....
Not a single equine survived the incident, nor did the stable hand and the owners daughter. The owners had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard of again. A tourist might drive up the driveway now days to see the beautiful lands here. The once thriving race track now looked like a garden of flowers and grass with trees here and there. When the tourists come, they can hear this whistling of a tune from a little girl about the age of ten. Some can even catch a glimpse of the mare standing next to the little girl.
They tourists seemed to come more and more frequently but finally the mare and girl had enough of the disturbance. They started scaring them off, and now the tourists haven't been seen in almost a decade. The little girl is still there along with the mare. Now many other 'ghost' equines have filled in the empty places. Horses from all over that had survived many accidents have come to this place, they now live in the stable yard, thriving off the the vegetation that once was so scarce. The mare that had died in the fire is now considered the lead of the ghost horses for this land; her name is Rasheeka. A grand Thoroughbred stallion leads the living horses; his name is Colateral. Colateral and Rasheeka communicate regularly but the others do not know about it. The living know nothing about the dead, if a glimpse of a spirit is seen, then it is told it is the fog. The dead know nothing of the living, they see them, but are told that if they leave their land (the graveyard or haunted forest) they will forever disappear into a world of nothing. Some dead have figured out that this is not true and a few living have found out about the dead. Some even talk but are told they are crazy in the mind and that it didn't happen.
It Happens. So now this is where you come in. Play by the rules? or eh... how about upset the balance? Difficult choices are to be made, but this is what the world is here. You're either;
::
Our Banner::
[url=http://hauntedequus.proboards107.com/][img]http://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l203/kallie_06/hauntedequusbutton.jpg[/img][/url]