18/3 – 24/3/24 – Horses and Cowards (WordPress Subscriptions Edition)

Welcome to Monday’s News on the March – The week that was in my digital world.

A Boy And A Horse – A Tale of Magic!
Short Story at Sharon Writer’s Tidbits

My good friend Sharon from London is becoming a regular guest here at News on the March. I consider her recent short story publication A Boy And A Horse – A Tale of Magic! one the most enchanting fictional short stories and creative writing feats I have encountered on WordPress. It reminded me so much of my favourite Oscar Wilde short-stories including The Happy Prince and The Selfish Giant. A lot of writers would give up their first-born to write like Sharon did here.

‘Please, please Dad, can we keep him?’ young Frank Campbell pleaded with his father.

Joe Campbell rubbed his chin before speaking, ‘hmm, I don’t know son, he must belong to someone else,’ he replied softly staring at the large brown horse standing docilely at the back gate. ‘He’s a beauty though isn’t he,’ Joe Campbell continued, ‘and huge!’

The horse peered at them through melting brown eyes.

If Joe didn’t know better he would have thought the stallion was also pleading with them to take him in.

‘What do you say Dad?’ Frank piped up again pulling on the hem of his dad’s checked shirt, ‘look at him, he likes us.’

‘I wonder where he came from?’ Joe asked looking the horse over again, ‘there are no farms around here for miles.’

Just then the horse bobbed his head up and down, stepped towards Frank and allowed himself to be petted. Frank rubbed him gently on the neck.

‘You see Dad.’

‘OK, let me talk this over with mum, see what she says.’

Later that evening Joe explained the mystery to Rose Campbell, ‘we do have a large shed, he could stay there in the meantime. Someone is bound to come looking for him.’

‘This is true,’ Rose Campbell added sagely.

At that very moment Frank ran into the kitchen where his parents were discussing the fate of the horse.

‘Well son,’ Joe announced brightly, ‘he can stay in the shed for now, but you’ll have to look after him when you get back from school.’

‘Thanks Dad, thanks Mum that’s great!’ Frank said excitedly, ‘I’ve named him Eric.’ With that Frank turned and promptly ran through the back door and all but skidded into the shed. He told the horse who neighed delicately as Frank stroked his face.

One week later Frank and Eric were inseparable. The horse would trot alongside Frank on his walk to school, along the winding country lanes and would gallop and clomp from nowhere on Frank’s walk home. Frank would talk about his day with Eric, who proved to be an avid listener, with his tail swishing from side to side.

‘Don’t forget to do your homework,’ Rose Campbell instructed her son some weeks later.

‘I will mum, I’ll do it in the shed with Eric.’

‘OK,’ Rose replied shaking her head from side to side.

Frank petted Eric before sitting down with his maths homework spread out on the hay. Frank was never good at maths, in fact he was hopeless at it. He did some sums and was about the write down the answer when suddenly Eric neighed and clomped his hooves. Eric knew what the horse was trying to tell him and changed his answer.

And so it was that one ten-year-old Frank Campbell got top marks in his class for maths, much to his parents’ delight.

The next day in Geography lesson Frank was sitting at the back of the class struggling to answer the teacher’s question. He thought and thought but could come up with nothing. Just then a brown horse appeared at the window pushing his face close to the glass. ‘Eric!’ Frank mouthed alarmed, before glancing round nervously to check if any of the other kids had seen him. They continued to look at the teacher and had not noticed anything out of the ordinary. And just like that Frank Campbell knew the answer to the question and his small hand shot up with pride.

That afternoon Frank walked home feeling elated about his good results. He looked for Eric but didn’t see him. When he got home he would tell Eric his good news knowing the horse would listen like the best friend he was. Frank was feeling so chuffed he didn’t hear the footfalls behind him.

The first shove almost sent him tumbling to the ground. He steadied himself and was struggling to stand when another hand pushed him and grabbed his rucksack.

‘Poor boy! How comes you are so clever now?’ Danny the class bully asked menacingly. A punch landed on Frank’s shoulder and the tirade continued, helped by two other boys. Frank gulped and did the best he could to defend himself. ‘You never get anything right,’ Danny continued as he quickly looted Frank’s rucksack before flinging it to the ground. ‘And how come your Mum and Dad are so old?’

Frank didn’t know what to do as he toppled to the ground, if only there wasn’t three of them!

And just then he heard a familiar clomp! From out of nowhere a large brown stallion charged dangerously towards the melee. He stopped short of the four boys bearing angry white teeth, and reared up onto his hind legs. Frank looked up and despite himself, grinned.

‘Watch out! It’s some crazy big horse!’ All three bullies screamed before running the fastest they could away from the scene.

Frank Campbell scrambled to his feet and dusted himself down as Eric stood by protectively. ‘Phew, that was close,’ Frank sighed, ‘thanks pal!’

That was the last time Frank was ever beaten up and bullied again.

*

It was the end of July and the school summer holidays had finally arrived. Frank was super excited because he could spend all day with Eric. Frank skipped to the end of the garden with the horse’s favourite red apple in his hand, but when he pushed open the door, the shed was empty. The boy looked everywhere for the horse. He searched and searched until nightfall. And no Eric. He looked for him the following day and the day after that, but there was no trace of him.

‘Maybe he has simply gone back to where he came from,’ Rose Campbell said to her son two weeks later.

‘He wouldn’t do that!’ Frank wailed.

‘Sorry son,’ Joe Campbell said, ‘you never know, he might come back one day.’

And the horse did come back. It was September and Frank Campbell was trudging back home from school when he heard a gentle neighing and a clatter of hooves behind him. He turned around slowly and rushed to the brown stallion, patting him and grinning gleefully.

‘Where have you been?’ Frank cried, ‘I was really sad without you.’

Boy and horse walked companionably for a short while along the winding lane and in that time Frank Campbell understood everything. Eric had gone to help a little girl in Sussex the way he had been helped.

Frank knew his best friend would have to go again. He hugged him and let Eric go slowly. He stood at his back gate and watched as the brown horse simply melted into the distance.

The End

**********

The inner child that is in all of us can always use a little magic!

Thanks for reading!

Sharon

The Stench of Cowards
True story account by Nancy at The Elephant’s Trunk

‘Nancy is a storyteller, music blogger, humorist, quasi poet, curveballer, dreamer‘

I have been a recent follower of Nancy’s wonderful blog. She is clearly a very gifted writer who frequently responds to various writers challenges such as what she did here – meeting two of his prompts: an eight-sentence post based on the word “respect”.
Nancy’s ‘About‘ page is a fascinating read, so check that out if you can. The reason I relayed her true account here is because rarely do you read of ‘first-hand’ acts of courage so nervy, brassy and inspirational in the face of abuse towards a minor in a public place.

Not too long ago I brought my car to the dealer for routine maintenance and since it was going to be a quick appointment, I opted to wait in the customer’s lounge rather than go home and come back when the car was ready; apparently, quite a few other people had the same idea because the waiting area was quite full.

Sometimes I’ll find myself engaged in conversation with an interesting person but most times I prefer to wait in quiet, reading my emails or making notes for a story; this particular day, since the waiting area was full, I had no choice but to sit next to a woman and her little boy, approximately 3 years old.

The first thing I noticed about the woman was the hostility and impatience that shot out of her like a machine gun and the primary recipient of her nasty temperament was her little boy; she seemed to take great pleasure in taunting and teasing him and reprimanding him, both verbally and physically.

I was very uncomfortable with her behavior and found it extremely difficult to stay out of the situation but if I expect people to respect my boundaries, I need to show the same respect to them, however, this woman seemed to be inviting someone to say something; obviously no one wanted trouble so everyone kept their eyes averted, heads down and mouths shut, but the atmosphere in the room was tense.

The final straw came when the woman reached into her purse, pulled out a granola bar and began eating while her little boy stood at her knees whining because he wanted something to eat, too; the woman told him that was too bad because he already had his snack and the granola bar was HERS, and, of course, the child threw himself onto the floor and began crying at which point the woman bent over in her seat and slapped the boy several times on the side of his head, causing him to scream out.

That was it for me and while the other people tsk’d and muttered and winced, I turned to the woman and said in a tone as matter-of-factly as if I was asking what time it was, “Please don’t hit your child” to which she yelled “Shut up, bitch, and mind your own fucking business!”, which wasn’t entirely unexpected but I was prepared.

I got up and left the room, fully aware of eyes on me, glaring at me and I could feel their resentment as if I was the wrongful party in this scenario who let that little boy down while they all sat mutely by and allowed the poor child to be mistreated; what’s more, I could feel that horrible woman’s eyes boring a hole in my back, acting the fool and flaunting her victory over a defenseless child.

When I returned a minute later with a policewoman to show her what was going on in front of people who chose to remain silent, the mood in the room immediately shifted and I was suddenly the hero with people actually applauding for me as if this was some kind of performance for their entertainment; I wanted to scream “Live by example, you fucking bastards!”, but I wouldn’t lower myself to their level and couldn’t get out of that room fast enough .… a room reeking of the stench of cowards with no self-respect.