This story is set in Australia. This is a first draft, fresh out of my mind. Critiques welcomed. I also would like anyone to make comments or ask questions on the story itself to help motivate me to write more. Thanks in advance!
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Synopsis:
At the age of 21 Cara Beauforth has it all. Beauty, her life planned to perfection and a gift for riding. She is on the fast track to World Equestrian Games selection with her amazingly talented Thoroughbred Tzar, she has a world class mare due to foal her future Olympic mount and she has the perfect fiancé in Photographer Roy Hilbert.
In the space of a heartbeat, a tragic accident on the family farm blots her future out. Now Cara’s courage and determination that made her such a raging success on the Eventing circuit will be tested to the utmost as she faces a whole new challenge, rebuilding her life after a near fatal injury. Cara's doctors have told her she will never ride again.
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Extract:
“Cara, I can’t see Mille.” Kate called.
“No worries, mum – I’ll go and check on her.” Cara answered. She typed a quick message to Roy; ‘Millie’s gone walkabout, going to check on her brb xxx love you lots’ and hurried up to get her coat and boots.
“Here, hon, take the brolly. Its pouring out there.” Kate waved an arm at the umbrella stand by the front door as she handed her daughter the torch. Cara took a glance at the ancient red umbrella, dusty and supporting a spiderweb and decided against it.
“Be back in a minute. I’ll yell if she’s foaling!” Cara grinned and stepped outside. The rain thundered louder here, drumming heavily on the tin roof of the veranda. The wind tossed the treetops, and drove the rain before it. Several leaks dripped onto the warped boards and Cara took a deep breath of delight as she buttoned up her oilskin. Just three more days before she and Tzar flew out for their bid for gold in Kentucky. If Millie was foaling, it would be the perfect omen, the perfect going away gift.
She took another sharp breath as she stepped into the torrent, the rain was like needles on her face. She pulled her hat down a little further, tilting her head to protect her face and switched the torch on.
Thirty seconds of walking brought her to Millie’s gate. She made a quick sweep with the torch but failed to see the mare. “Millie!” she called, unlatching the gate. Her voice was swept away by the wind.
“Bloody mare! Trust her to want to foal in this.” Cara muttered as she re-latched the gate behind her. She checked first the three sided paddock shelter, which was empty and stood in it a moment, scanning the part of the pasture she could see. Millie was nowhere to be found.
Cara squelched along the fenceline, heading toward the group of tall gums and bushes in the corner of the small pasture. She followed the torch light, occasionally stopping to see if Millie had decided to come out on her own as she had countless times before. But there was no sign of sodden chestnut hide and Cara decided the mare had to be taking shelter in the trees, closer to her mate in the next paddock over.
“Millie!” Cara exclaimed, her torch beam piercing the rain and highlighting the mare’s white blaze resting against the mud. Clearly the foal had decided it was time.
Cara hurried to her side, wondering why the foaling alarm hadn’t gone off. She checked it on the halter, it was off. Broken perhaps? Or perhaps Luke had forgotten to make sure it was working before he went up for dinner. She cursed her brother under her breath for a moment, checking Millie from ears to toe. The mare sighed deeply and rolled her eyes at her in discomfort.
“I know girl, I know. Good girl.” Cara soothed her mare, inside seething with excitement. This was it, this was the birth of a champion, the horse that would carry her to gold at the Olympic games ten years into the future. This was the birth of a horse she sold her inheritance to pay for. This was the birth of her dream.
Above the wind she heard an ominous creaking. As she flashed the torch up, she heard a crack.
“Oh shit oh shit oh shit! Mille!” she screamed, “Millie get up!” adrenalin coursed through her veins and she yanked on the mare’s halter. She yanked again, using all her strength, borne of desperation. “Millie! The bloody tree, get up Millie!”
Another crack, loud even above the wind and rain. “Millie! Millie you stupid bitch get the hell up!” her voice carried a note of hysteria.
The big mare sensed the danger. She heaved herself to her feet and lumbered a few paces, knocking Cara off balance. The loudest crack yet as Cara scrambled to move, eyes wide with fear.
The unbelievable weight of the tree crashed to the ground scaring Millie witless, driving her to bolt. At that moment, Cara gave vent to a hoarse scream. The sound went on and on, seeming to never end.
Nothing else existed in the world but the agony. It exploded, white hot throughout her body, driving out all thought, all sound, all sight. Cara did not even know she was screaming, all she knew was the pain. All that there was in existence was the torture and suffering of the pain. A few moments later, she mercifully passed out.
