The Horse with a Grudge

Yesterday, i was attacked by a horse. For the sake of amusement, do not dispute that statement as a misjudgement of the horse’s nature, but rather wait. If you think I am unfair in making the horse sound evil, then you can be reassured that I have been issued a rather large bruise by said horse, so he, for want of a better phrase, got his own back.

I was walking home on a delightful spring afternoon, which felt more like midsummer. The sun beat down on the grass and reflected radiantly from the waters. I crossed the road, in slight pain from pebbles and the dark tars absorbancy of the heat on my bare feet, towards a long road which headed home. It had been a satisfying day, most enjoyable, and I had walked for miles.

As Iapproached my house, I cast my eyes over the horses in the field nearby, and considered a visit to them due as a last hurrah to the first beautiful day, in my opinion, of the year. I considered it inadvisable as tresspassing, but it transpired to be a footpath, which is perfectly fine. So i clambered over the fence and shoved my shoes on, before pacing slowly toward a small group of three horses. One of them turned away from me, I considered that unflattering and antisocial, but nothing to worry about, so I continued on and reached out to stroke it, gently and soberly.The horse swayed towards me, and gave me a shove which knocked me to the ground, my wrist aching. I grasped at the ground, hoping that I had simply landed in mud rather than something else, and clawed myself up. I pegged it to the fence, climbing over with the use of only one hand.

All the way back my thigh ached and my wrist throbbed, but none of that hurt as much as my pride. I desperately hoped no one had seen me, but believed that almost definately someone, somewhere would have done. I hope the viewer of the bizarre facade, had there been one, would not have laughed too hard, but maybe smiled. I openly admit that I would have done a comedy fall. Embarrassed? Much.