Restser t1_iy66u2t wrote on November 29, 2022 at 1:13 AM

Storm clouds are gathering over mountains that normally shield our village from the setting sun. People scurry to shelter our sheep, pigs and cows. Chickens take to their roost knowing what will come. Elders prepare the town hall and villagers bring their bedding, for this will last the night.

We have less than an hour and for me, that passes quickly. The wind is up and I can just hear friends calling my name, but I can't stop. I have to stable the horses and our prize stallion has other ideas. I'm out of breath, barely able to dodge flashing hooves as I open the barn. He's a beauty, probably worth more than me, so I take care that Horace isn't injured. At last, his bucking subsides and he follows me into his stall. None too soon, for the wind smells damp. Locking the barn doors open is hard and I pray this wooden relic holds.

Fifty yards of swirling dust stand between me and safety. Should I try? A bucket flies past four feet above the ground and branches shoot through the air on their way to the next county. The door is shaking violently in my hands and I can barely hold from being sucked out into the growing maelstrom.

Horace whinneys as if to beckon. Once I haul my body back inside I'm able to pull myself hand over hand, then climb up and over to fall into Horace's stall. He's on his side so I snuggle in behind him, stroking his neck to keep him calm. He softly nickers and we face Armageddon together.

The next onslaught is hail, battering the wall and roof. It sounds like gunfire. Holding Horace calms me. Been through a few of these I have, and this is one of the worst. There'll be some rebuilding for sure and this is not the end.

Now comes the final act; a deluge of rain, pelting the roof and timbers as the storm vents the largest part of its fury. Water flows into the barn, through and then out the other doorway. The stalls are raised and we get none of this brown and stinking water, though we're drenched from rain coming through spaces in the wall. And so the night goes on.

It's amazing to me how the crow of a cock can be music to a young man's ears. Though I've slept, I'm exhausted and hang on to Horace as he rolls then extends his legs till he's standing. I can hear calls from the hall and yell at the top of my voice "I'm in the barn with Horace." Cheers fill the air, and they tell me they're all safe. It'll be a day before the knee-deep water subsides. Perhaps my friend will let me ride out of here.

[WC: 469]

London-Roma-1980 t1_iydmqcm wrote on November 30, 2022 at 4:55 PM

Well, Restser, you reviewed my story; let me return the favor.

One of the more interesting aspects of this piece is how in my mind it plays with the knowledge of the theme. We know that, eventually, there will be something regarding "jubilant" -- saving it for the climax of the story makes the tension build better. But that's selling it short -- this piece stands on its own.

I will admit to not being familiar enough with equine mannerisms; do horses generally sleep lying on their side? I was under the impression they slept while kneeling like cows did. Granted, this could be an oversight or extra characterization of how horrible Horace senses the storm is, in that even he knows to buckle down.

Two pieces of unusual phrasing stood out: one good, one bad. The good was "Been through a few of these I have". I adore when authors go out of their way to give the narrator a character and imbue the narrative with it. It brings the story more to life. The bad, though, is "Locking the barn doors open is hard". Does he mean locking them when they're being forced open? Because I highly doubt he wants to keep them open.

Overall, a very visually intensive piece of writing that gave character to the narrator, which is right up my alley! Kudos!

Restser t1_iyex9y0 wrote on November 30, 2022 at 9:53 PM

Thanks for reading and commenting, London-Roma-1980. I am an equine ignoramous and had to ask lots of questions of the memsahib. You're right about sleeping. It'is apparently rare. I struggled with the barn doors thing. They need to be locked open outwards to prevent the barn exploding in the low pressure wind. Explaining ruined the pace so I left it. Barns are not my thing either.

I appreciate you taking the time to delve. I believe feedback is the path to improvement. You are not obliged to return the favour, though. I treat giving feedback with the same attitude as receiving it. Cheers.