| General Fiction posted April 24, 2016 |
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200 word short story
The Missing Shoe
by PhilipCatshill
"Woah," I called and tugged on the reins. It took no more than a glance to realise Siskin was missing a shoe. I figured another hefty wad of cash would be leaving my wallet on its way to the farrier's. At least, it would be if I had a wad of cash. I spent the rent money on a bale of hay and let Siskin rest in the loosebox.
Siskin had been in my life for more than a quarter of a century, which is old, perhaps too old for a horse. He had been with me through good times and bad, but the day he shed that shoe, we had reached rock bottom. The split in his hoof put an end to our rides. Days later, he went lame.
The vet took the saddle and tack in lieu of a fee.
A week later, I found that missing shoe under the hawthorn hedge at the side of the lane. I polished the iron to a silvery shine and nailed it over the door of his empty loosebox.
I still give that horseshoe a rub every day, but not for luck. I just want to keep the rust at bay.
200 Word Story writing prompt entry
"Woah," I called and tugged on the reins. It took no more than a glance to realise Siskin was missing a shoe. I figured another hefty wad of cash would be leaving my wallet on its way to the farrier's. At least, it would be if I had a wad of cash. I spent the rent money on a bale of hay and let Siskin rest in the loosebox.
Siskin had been in my life for more than a quarter of a century, which is old, perhaps too old for a horse. He had been with me through good times and bad, but the day he shed that shoe, we had reached rock bottom. The split in his hoof put an end to our rides. Days later, he went lame.
The vet took the saddle and tack in lieu of a fee.
A week later, I found that missing shoe under the hawthorn hedge at the side of the lane. I polished the iron to a silvery shine and nailed it over the door of his empty loosebox.
I still give that horseshoe a rub every day, but not for luck. I just want to keep the rust at bay.
Siskin had been in my life for more than a quarter of a century, which is old, perhaps too old for a horse. He had been with me through good times and bad, but the day he shed that shoe, we had reached rock bottom. The split in his hoof put an end to our rides. Days later, he went lame.
The vet took the saddle and tack in lieu of a fee.
A week later, I found that missing shoe under the hawthorn hedge at the side of the lane. I polished the iron to a silvery shine and nailed it over the door of his empty loosebox.
I still give that horseshoe a rub every day, but not for luck. I just want to keep the rust at bay.
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Writing Prompt Write a story of 200 words. not including the title. Any subject accepted. Must be exactly 200 words. |
This short story uses UK English spelling, grammar and punctuation. The photograph represents one of the many ponies that roam freely in England's New Forest. Although this is a work of fiction in that I never owned a horse, I lived on a small farm during my childhood. My Dad rented the fields to horse owners, and Siskin did shed a shoe or two. One of which, as a six year old, I nailed to the door. This was just the day after my Dad had painted the door, so for some mysterious reason, my effort invoked more trouble than luck. It did, however, leave some impressive holes in my Dad's paintwork.
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