Too early... Just too early...

[April Conners]

“Oliver!” April growled.

It was a quiet morning, a nice calm sort of morning. Much too early for most in the weekends. There were clear blue skys above, with big white clouds floating, dotted about on the horizon. Birds chanting in choirs, each having its own pretty little solo, a blessing to the ear. It was the type of morning where you’d stroll out, stopping to admire the landscape, commenting on the weather.

But all you could hear was cursing and growling coming from the indoor arena. Nope, it wasn’t Aprils or Oliver’s day today.

“Getting up so early for this!” April groaned to herself, gritting her teeth and locking her legs round the youngster’s sides. This wasn’t exactly what she had imagined when she dragged herself out of bed for a good bit of early morning schooling. She was half dead when she crawled into the student’s barn. However, Oliver certainly woke her up. He wasn’t exactly giving her the easiest ride.

Oliver was napping at thin air in the middle of the arena, refusing to go forward. He was dancing about across the middle as though April was asking him to walk into a wall. It wasn’t the fact the April was really doing anything wrong (Apart from pulling him out his bed this early!) He was just being plain difficult. The 6 year old had pulled every trick he knew in the book, and equally April had tried every technique. Oliver was now cantering sideways across the middle of the school, doing his little half rear dance, shaking his head furiously.

“Oh yes, just get the school before anybody else, just give him a light schooling...” April hissed sarcastically at herself.
She hadn’t even bothered wearing a helmet. Instead she pulled her hair up into a high pony tail. It would seem foolish to anybody who was watching, but April doubted she would fall. She knew this horse. As much as Oliver was playing up he wasn’t trying to get her off purposely. She wasn’t in her riding gear, just a pair of old yard jeans and trainers and her hoodie. Whatever she could get her hands on first, after tumbling half asleep out of bed. She was pretty sure Oliver had gotten out of the wrong side of bed himself. She just hoped an instructor wouldn’t come along – she knew she’d get hell for not wearing a helmet. Infact she’d get bawled at for just about everything she was wearing.

Dust was sent flying everywhere as the gelding moved his hooves quickly along the sand. He started half rearing. Not the scary big rears no, more the annoying little ones that just make life a lot more complicated. April had been careful to realise her hangs and was far from hanging onto the horse’s mouth. She allowed her body to go with the gelding, allowing her hands forward as she squeezed with her legs, trying to be fair but firm, however her patience was running out. Patience was not something that April ever seemed to portray, bur found herself having to bite her lip and stay with the horse.

He looked more like a mad horse. A wild mustang just taken from the herds. His was starting to get extremely over bent, frothing at the mouth. He landed lightly on the ground just to start doing his jig again. His nostrils where flared violently, snorting like a dragon. He snatched at the bit and his riders hands furiously, shaking his head and sending saliva everywhere.
“Stop it, stop it!” April hissed under her breath as she started to lightly beat the gelding’s sides with her heels. He ignored her, hardly even noticing. “You’re making me look bad. C’mon, stop being so – so – stupid!”

She opened her reins, guiding his head but it wasn’t making any different. At least he was lowering his head down, stretching. But it still wasn’t affecting his stubbornness, for they both were dead set stubborn.

[Giselle Renard]

haha wow i apologize for the length. i've just watched pride & prejudice for like, the millionth time, and obviously that's where my inspiration came from.

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giselle montgomery renard !
//oh let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of france//
//let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters & teach them how to dance//

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It is early. The sun wakes the sleepy earth with kisses of golden light, arousing the ground in the gentlest way possible. From my vantage point beneath the banyan, I watch the fingers of dawn creep across the grasses, slowly igniting each leaf and flower. The world stirs in a pleasant good morning, bringing a smile to my otherwise tired lips. I allow myself to inhale, deeply drawing from the air the aroma of wild lavender, mixed with something I cannot quite place my finger on. I close my eyes, although I know sleep will not visit my bustling mind. It was more of an act of submission to the awakening world than anything else. Moments pass. I feel the wind pass over my skin, raising goosepimples on my arms. The light has begun to seep through the trees, and I undergo the most pleasant feeling of the warmth on my face. My ears are acute to the soft melodies of birds in trees far away, and of the sound of the air as it whispers through the swaying grasses. I believe there could be nothing more pleasant than this moment right now. I am shortly proved wrong.
I hear the sound of boots crunching, and I instantly recognize that the owner is not out for a leisurely stroll. No, this person – whoever he or she may be – is on a defined path somewhere. Laboriously I pick my eyelids up, and glance around. The earth, now a shade of pale orange mixed with the lightest touches of yellow, seems to have become even more stunningly radiant than when I last admired it. Momentarily, my original motive is forgotten, and I merely allow the scene to soak into my mind, allow it to consume every one of my senses. But wait – the footsteps have ceased. I become more aware of the surroundings. My eyes, previously focused on some area to my right, now scan the territory, searching for the owner of the noise. Then, in a moment of awkward realization, my gaze falls on a pair of muddied boots. Slowly, as if drawn by a string, my eyes raise, following the lengthy, breeches-clad legs up to the proud – yet somehow modest – waistcoated chest, finally arriving on the scruffy-haired head of none other than Fitzwilliam Darcy. My breath catches in my throat, and I cease to move, startled by his sudden appearance. He takes a, informal step towards me, wringing the hat he is clutching in his hands. I do not know whether to rise or stay seated, for to rise would seem too submissive – I was still unaware of his intention.
“Elizabeth, I…” he began – (wait, my name isn’t Elizabeth. Oh well. Continue.) – and I could feel myself blush. I decide to rise. My eyes, for the first time in my life, have trouble meeting his own. I watch as he takes a step towards me, still fingering his hat incessantly. “I… would like to express how much your ducks please me. You have been unable to vacate my mind since the moment I first saw you, and I would like to point out how pleasing you are to look at.” (Oookay then. Well, this is obviously fishy, but proceed.) “You make me feel… you make me feel… you make me feel like a natural woman.” (Right. Was going to overlook his comment about my ducks, and then the reference to my pleasing looks, but the moment Mr. Darcy began blurting out Aretha Franklin lyrics was the moment I temporarily lost it.) Opening my mouth, I threaten to say something, but he cuts me off by drawing even nearer. Suddenly his hands cup my face, his thumbs running over the slight raise of my cheek bones. “What I am trying to say is that...” My lungs slow to a pace nearly unheard of, yet my heart feels as if it will bound out of my chest. His face slowly creeps towards mine until I can feel his warm breath tickle my skin. Then, all of a sudden, he opens his mouth in a most unpleasant manner, and begins to gawk, “GOOD MORNING, GOOD MORNING, GOOD MORNINGGGGG!” As I ponder how he suddenly sounds like John Lennon, he is suddenly vaporizing before my very eyes into wisps of smoke. I try to reach for him, but to my great dismay, it seems he is already gone. I sigh, pout, cross my arms…

…And open my eyes. It is still dark, but the light of my cell phone blaring The Beatles’ ‘Good Morning Good Morning’ lights up my bed cavity. In this darkness, it seems to be as bright as the sun. Although I have just woken up, recollection of my dream is scarce. I realize that Mr. Darcy, the leading hunk from Ms. Austen’s Pride & Prejudice was the main theme, and I try to think to what could have possibly caused that. Ah, yes, rented the movie recently, and must have fallen asleep thinking about it. Not going to lie, the idea of Darcy and Elizabeth’s romance always intrigued me. The fact that it was so… forbidden – well, all to her parents, of course – made it all the sexier. She didn’t want him, he didn’t want her, his family certainly didn’t want her… yet, they ended up married. I rolled over in bed, and sat up straight, instantly regretting the sudden change in my equilibrium. I was not made for early mornings. But the dream had left me with a sudden dullness. Why couldn’t men now a day be more like the infamous Darcy? Sure, I was no Elizabeth Bennet, but when it came down to it, I could be quite romantic… maybe. Okay, so maybe it was just a phase I was in upon watching the movie. Maybe I was getting myself a little overexcited at the false hope in my dream. But dreams are silly, and they more often than not mean nothing.
I reached for my phone, now muffled by the covers I had tossed to quell both the noise and the light, and pressed the ‘off’ button. No need to wake my roommate, who was still sleeping. She had the right idea. Yawning, I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, and allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkened room. The sun was not yet leaking through the blinds, which made me all the more uneager to draw myself from my bed. Still, I had made a promise to both myself and my horse, and I would not allow broken promises. But why!? I silently cursed myself for thinking rising so early on a weekend was a wonderful idea. I’d been so looking forward for an intermission between school weeks, and now I was subjecting myself to a kind of torture. Longingly was the look I gave to my roommate, all snug and warm in her bed, probably not to rise for another couple hours. But why was I jealous? It was of my own idea that led me to believe waking up so ghastly early was in the benefit of someone… be that someone my horse or myself.

Either seemed quite unlikely.

Now awake, I tumbled out of bed and blindly headed for the closet. My fingers pulled from the hanger what they first came in contact with, and this object was casually cast to my rumpled sheets, for further preparation of my self was needed. Laboriously, I picked from the floor the jeans I had recklessly cast aside the previous night. Maybe a little wrinkled, but I would not be under the scrutiny of anyone other than my horse, so I worried little about it. Robotically I dressed, trying to make as little noise as possible, for alerting my roommate of my awake-ness was exactly what I didn’t want to do. I would most certainly lose her good graces then. Stifling a yawn, I clicked the door open smoothly. I was a master at sneaking out unnoticed, for years of practice had granted me that prowess. I attempted to make myself as large as possible in order to block the light which was sure to flood in from the often fluorescently-lit hallway. When I closed the door behind me, I heard no stir.

I made my trek to the barn in silence, cupping my elbows with opposite hands, for the sun had not raised the temperature yet. I picked out for myself an old, ratty t-shirt with some faded insignia, and a pair of jeans I found while hunting for bargains at a thrift store. As I walked, I examined the sky, which was still quite dark. I fake-sobbed at the notion of a cloudy day, but shortly got over it. I had no idea what the day could possibly hold, and this still-darkness could turn out to be merely a false pretense. Besides, I arrived at the barn, which put me in considerably better spirits. Instantly my neutral features welcomed the curve of a smile, and my pace quickened at the promise of seeing my horse.
If anything could make me feel better it was my darling Romeo. Hey – I might not be able to manage a Mr. Darcy, but Romeo was certainly the next best thing.
He seemed sleepy as I drew him from his stall, deciding to lunge him rather than take him for an actual ride. In the morning he was grumpy, and was probably more prone to try tricks on me. Well, anytime was time for him to be sneaky, but I just felt that lunging him would satisfy my need to be around him, and his ‘need’ for exercise. Greeting him emphatically, as I always did, I pulled my lunge-line from my tack box and led him to the indoor arena. He tripped over his feet, signaling that he too would rather be moping about his box. I quickened my pace and spoke sternly to him.
“Hey, don’t complain, it’s early for me too.”
He snorted, as if to remind me that it was of my own will which caused me to rise. I merely rolled my eyes, embarrassed that he had called me out in his own, non-vocal way.

As I entered the indoor ring, I was surprised to see another couple jauntily loping around the arena. I raised my eyebrows. She must have risen even earlier than me. Noticing the slight upset the two were experiencing, I decided to refrain from calling out, lest I disturb either one’s concentration. But I was soon faced with a dilemma: would she mind me utilizing some of the ring? Yes it was a free country, but I was not about to place myself, my horse, or any of her party in danger by admitting more distraction. So I shrugged off my previous idea to keep quiet, and called out from across the ring.
“Hi! Uh, sorry to interrupt or whatever, but do you mind if I lunge him? I’ll keep him reigned, promise.” I flashed her a smile, trying to be as friendly as possible. Although I was not in my best mood from rising so early, meeting new people always improved my spirits.
Oh, and the fact that I was with my horse. That helped too.

[April Conners]

What can I say?

I sighed deeply, automatically locking my legs round Oliver’s bright chestnuts sides almost automatically. It was robot these days; I was used to him riding him almost every day, working him. It was hardly unusual for him to be like this. Maybe that reflects on my riding skill, or training skills. However, he was getting a hell of a lot better. Especially since I had joined the academy. I tried reminding myself that he was better; remember back to the hell he used to be. But I’m not a born optimist, not like my mother, no.

His feet padded the arena floor softly as he lower his head, listening more now. His mane flowed down his knew needing pulled moving with the beat of his jog, making his neck arched looking pretty and well schooled which I had longed for all this time. Padding soft like a cat. He was still jogging but at least he was going down on the bit, listening to me, that’s always a good sign. I sat up, sitting deep into the saddle, padding on the reins myself, easing the gelding nose lower and lower.
“Gooooood boy,” I cooed, soothing as best I could, trying my best not to jinx my handy work. I didn’t want to ruin it now; I didn’t want anything to ruin it now.
I could feel him down the contact of the reins, chewing softly at the bit. I bounced in the saddle, still sitting deeply in the saddle, pushing my shoulders back. His hind quarters where circling round his round front end but it was still an improvement, I suppose. At least he was relaxing a bit now. He was settling so well I felt confident to ask him to walk across the centre of the school again. I could feel my hair bouncing with his movement as I broke him out of his circle to face the dreaded line, the line in which he refused to cross. I closed my rein back up so he wouldn’t shy away, gently holding him there with my legs. He was much more settled now, almost ready to respond to what I was saying. A lot less tense. This was how I wanted to start working.

The early sunlight was pouring into the arena, flooding in over the arena floor. It made a great effect on the geldings untidy mane, rim lit, almost glowing. He tossed his head up into the air, his forelock flying up like flames, glinting in the sun so it hurt my eyes. At least he was in good condition. I could feel his getting more stressed, slowly, but this time it didn’t seem to be what I was asking him to do. I encouraged him with my legs, stopping him from spinning round. His mind was wondering as he tossed his head up in the air, bringing it higher.

You could see his bright chestnut coat in the sunlight, his forelock flying up in the air, almost red. The glint from his copper bit shining in the sunlight, catching my eye, distracting me. What was the problem now? It was all going so well. I pushed him on with my legs trying my best to focus him. He was bunching his hind quarters up, lowering them down. Big clouds appearing round his head as he snorted, like a dragon. Like a dragon that was going to take off.

“Hi!” I heard something behind me, I got a fright myself so god knows how Oliver felt.

Oliver reared up throwing his head up in the air. His launched himself forward, pushing away from the ground with those powerful hind legs that he has, those powerful jumper legs. Dust went flying everywhere like smoke from a space shuttle taking off. I could well imagine that we looked like it, soaring at least a few impressive feet up in the air. It was pathetic, I knew he was going to do this yet I didn’t prepare myself. I got launched out of the saddle and ended up catching Oliver in the mouth in an attempted to stay on, which is just about the worst thing a rider could do. I was way left behind, may pony tail flying up in the air, my face full of shock as I stared down at the ground, getting way left behind. This got Oliver even more wound up as we crashed back to earth sending dust flying up into my face. My stirrups flew away from my feet as I collapsed back into the horse’s saddle. He sent a few huge impressive bucks as I groped around for a piece of mane, blinded by the whole arena floor coming up in my face.

Oliver head shot up, straining against the martingale. He was a fast horse and this was no expectation as he was quick off his feet. That line that he refused to cross appeared no problem as he bolted across the arena. His legs moving at the speed of light underneath him as he flew away as fast as possible like the old cartoon characters. I tried by best to regain my seat, finding myself leaning forward with Oliver, griping onto his mane fiercely for dear life, trying my best to regain a decent leg position. I decided to be brave and leg go but the gelding was off like a shot as just couldn’t respond to my desperate pulls on his mouth, his dragon like nostrils flared. He just ran faster and faster, dangerously fast round the arena. I was starting to get scared he would fall. He was so unbalanced round the corners it was unbelievable like a motor bike. I didn’t fancy falling at this speed.

God, what was I doing? I made myself sit bolt upright up pushing my weight down into the saddle. There was no way I was ever going to make Oliver stop but brute strength. I started to think more clearly gently easing one rein then the other. After a few laps I managed cross his reins over his neck, steadying him down to a fast, but more controlled canter. Once I was on a clean straight I eventually turned him into the arena wall.

Oliver came to an abrupt halt, dancing along the area wall, giving a few half hearted rears. He was soaked in sweat, being a sweaty boy when he got scared. He may not have been the brightest crayon in the box but he was defiantly not that damn stupid to run into a wall. I couldn’t help but smile to myself, feeling the pleasure of getting back sweet control. I allowed him to move away at a wall, leaning forward to stroke his neck, giving him his head as he snorted happily. Panic over.

“Good boy, clever boy!” I praised running my hands down his neck as I sat up; giving his withers a good scratch.

I had totally forgotten about what had bothered Oliver in the first place until I saw a bit of movement in the corner of my eye. My head shot round, my eyes turning to slits to see a rider standing, looking pretty much petrified in the arena entrance. I gave her a long cold hard stare, believing her to be the reason for all this commotion. I turned Oliver away trying to focus my negative energy into him as I leaned forward to hug his neck again. I buried my head into his mane, feeling quite embarrassed, allowing my reins to go slack.
“Could have got us fucking killed!” I whispered under my breath allowing Oliver to go for a wonder.

After all, I wasn’t a morning person.

Its just not my day!

OCC- Sorry for it being so long! I’m not too sure how you’ll like it but April can be a little bit mean! Haha. Enjoy!

[Giselle Renard]

Not gonna lie, being mean is really hard for me. in real life, i'm just so not into confrontations. but i guess that's the pleasure of free-writing, you can do whatever you want. sorry if this gets nasty. haha.

So she hadn’t seen me come in. Absently, I fingered Romeo’s lead, my eyes following the pair as they bounded around the arena. It seemed as though she was having problems getting him to behave, but I cast nary a degrading eye, for I was often faced with similar tribulations. I watched, interestedly as she handled the situation. I could tell by her stern commands, both verbal and not, that she was an experienced rider. For a moment, a wave of jealousy passed through me when I compared myself to her, but I casually gave myself a slap on the wrist for being so vain. How dare I be so ignorant! Her expertise should only cause me to push myself harder, something which I could always use. After all, a push in the right direction never hurt anybody.
Moments before I alerted her of my presence I merely stood and watched, scrutinizing her from afar. It felt like a sin to interrupt the rhythm she seemed to have finally achieved, but I had needs too. And lord knows, I was never known to be afraid to make my presence known. After I had called out to her, I instantly felt that a change in tactic would have been a much better alternative. Horse changed to unrecognizable beast as he was alerted to our bodies, and of course, this sensory outburst affected rider as well. I felt instantly guilty as his demeanor began to warp – almost like Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde before my very eyes. All I could do was regard the spectacle which was unfolding before me in horror, for attempting to help out would put me in a position I did not desire to be in. All I could do was cling helplessly to the side of the arena, and contemplate whether sneaking out would be a benefit or just another reason this girl had to loathe me. So, like the arrogant fool I was, I decided to hold my ground. This may have been okay for me, but Romeo on the other hand, was having none of it.
It seemed that the moment the other horse took off in fright; Romeo woke up and decided to play along. Of course, he was amusing no one with this game. Ears erect, Romeo began to dance in place, exhaling short bursts of CO2 as he fought against his constraints. I kept a tight grip on his lead, showing no emotion which he could play off of. It was a wonder that with all our years together, Romeo was still lacking respect for me. No matter, I would earn it eventually; it was a challenge which I greeted with more than open arms. Restraining his behavior with an iron fist, I stood quite still, not planning on giving anything else for the other rambunctious equine to feed off. By this point however, it seemed as though he had executed every mark of poor behavior there was – all but dismount his owner, who was doing a remarkably well (albeit curious) job of staying seated. I would have applauded would it not be considered behavior quite inappropriate in nature. Instead, I kept Romeo from lunging off to join the fray, which had calmed down considerably, thank God. Although the excitement had died down, Romeo’s enthusiasm for kicking up his own heels had not. In fact, he was more energized than ever, prancing about in place like a child at a dance recital. This made him harder than ever to control, for he sidestepped with the grace of a professional dressage horse, and in my haste to apologize to the girl, I could hardly focus on both chores. Giving his lead a sharp yank, hoping to quell his antsy tendencies – this of course, did nothing to calm him, and only led him to be riled up more – I gave an apologetic smile to the girl who was glaring in my direction. Okay, she had all the right to be angry, I could completely understand.
When I first purchased Romeo, he was more rambunctious than ever. Myself, not quite as experienced as I was now, had to be especially cautious upon riding him. I chose mornings or evenings to mount him as to avoid distractions. However, when my small cousins came to town one week for a family gathering, I found them quite attached to my hip. Try as I might to rid myself of their small, grubby fingers and clothes which smelled lightly of excrement, it was nearly impossible to have a moment to myself. Romeo remained unridden, and I unsatisfied. I chose one day to sneak out as the children were napping so as to exercise him. After all, having no physical exertion for a few days – except his turn-outs, which usually did the opposite of exert him – left Romeo in quite the frenzied state. It took nearly all I had to tack him up, let alone try and control him in-saddle. Just as I had finally gotten him to submiss, my small cousin decided it a good idea to play ball right beside the ring. I did not notice her presence until he had, and boy, what a horror that was. Instantly he spooked, flying into the air like a helicopter. With Romeo, there was no calming him down. Either I rode it out and let him get it out, or I tried to stop his upheaval and risk my safety. After he had eventually calmed down, giving us both the workout, I scolded my cousin mercilessly, instantly regretting everything once she began to cry. Still, even then I spoke to her sternly, warning her of the dangers of a rampaging horse.
In this case, I knew how the girl I was currently in the room with felt. But then again, like my cousin, I had not voluntarily caused her ruin. Only trying to be polite.

Just as I was about to turn around and sheepishly excuse myself, I heard her mutter something beneath her breath. She may have thought the comment to be below my level of hearing, but I had many talents which could be surpassed by few. Slowly, I brought myself back to look at her, my pitying feeling suddenly replaced with malice. You know, I probably should have let it go, pushed it beneath me. It was none of my business anyway, and what she said was true. But still, there was something nagging me to fight back, to be slightly vicious. I gritted my teeth in order to hold back the comment which was welling in my throat. No, I wasn’t going to be overtly bitchy… I would go about it quite circuitously.
“I didn’t mean to startle you… sorry you can’t control your horse, but that’s not my problem.” If there was ever a time for someone to use the cliché ‘OH SNAP!’ it would probably be now. Smugly I smiled, turning around and beginning to take my leave. But I did this slowly however, in order to catch any more words that she might throw at me. For a moment I regretted my words – I was good at making friends, not enemies – but then I recalled my tendency to be quite straight-forward. Hey, if she wanted to be nasty, let her be. I was always up for a little bit of drama.

[April Conners]

What can I say?
“I didn’t mean to startle you… sorry you can’t control your horse, but that’s not my problem.”

I felt the words burn right through me. So maybe she did hear me. I tried keeping my cool, sitting up as slowly as I could so I wouldn’t frighten Oliver and further prove her point. My fingers slipped through his mane, I turned my head to the side and gathered my reins as softly as I possibly could, but fury was boiling inside of me. Oliver could sense it, his muzzle tightening as he gripped at the bit, worry lines showing on his eyes. I turned his abruptly with my legs, he obeyed quickly realising this wasn’t the time to mess with me.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip and gritting my teeth. My heart was beating heavily, I tried to calm myself, trying not to say anything I would regret but I’m not good at that. I was fiddling with Oliver’s mane, trying to resist what I was about to say, but I couldn’t help speak my mind.

“Oh please! I was doing just fine by in complete control by myself until you came along! If you’re such a good rider to comment then you should know better than to come up behind a horse and scream at it!” The words just poured out my mouth, but once I had started I just couldn’t stop myself. I was completely out of control. “I’m so sorry I’m not daddies little princess who can buy me any amazing horse that, of course would never step a foot wrong being such an amazing stallion! Oh sorry, or is it down to princess’s wonderful riding skills?”

Daddy.
The word ate me up. I had to bite my tongue to stop me going overboard. I turned Oliver sharply away from girl giving him a quick tap sending him bouncing into action. He leaping into trot but it didn’t faze me as I brought him back to walk on the track. All I wanted to do was giving him a huge kick and go galloping out of here, but of course she was standing in the way of the exit.

I lowered my head and closed by eyes trying to fight back tears. I gulped, wondering what I had just said. I really had no idea. I had lost track of everything. Lost the plot completely. I allowed the reins to go slack again, realising this wasn’t Oliver fault. I didn’t want to take it out on him. I knew it wasn’t his fault. I brought my left hand up to my face, trying to look quite normally when rubbing my eye. I kept a hold of the reins with my other hand, fiddling with Oliver’s chestnut mane, taking deep breaths.

Oliver was being good to me, plodding along the track like an old nag. I just wanted to walk on forever and couldn’t stand the thought of having to turn and face the girl again. I wanted to cry into Oliver’s mane, but I could never do that with – with – with her around.

What have I started...

Its just not my day!

OCC- Sorry for it being so long! I’m not too sure how you’ll like it but April can be a little bit mean! Haha. Enjoy!

[Giselle Renard]

When I was younger, I used to play a game at school deemed ‘Mother May I.’ Essentially, one child was selected mother, while the others stood on the opposite end of the room, gnashing their little teeth in anticipation (the ‘mother’ figure would usually stand with proud authority, happy to have the pleasure of directing the other children). In a line, the children would one by one request favors from mother, always beginning with ‘Mother, may I take…’ and then the appropriate number of steps, usually in fanciful patterns. ‘Mother’ could then either accept their offer, or dismiss it with a command of her own. The worst was when ‘mother’ made one take baby steps, for there was no gaining ground then, and one was frequently surpassed by the other children, who took their umbrella and ballet steps waaay too seriously.
Now, in the closeness to the door, I pretended as if mother had just made me take baby steps, and baby steps I took. I was extremely interested as to how she would respond to my biting words, for after running them through my head, I found them to be quite stinging. Oh well. At this point, I could do nothing but accept the consequences of my words, whatever they may be. Just as I had reached the exit, fleetingly abandoning the idea of a verbal tussle, her words caught me. The first bank were nothing more than a light kick to the heel maybe, if compared in physical terms, but once she brought family into it, I instantly regretted ever speaking to her. ‘Daddy’s little princess’I believe were her exact words, and I had to literally restrain myself from telling her what was what. Closing my eyes, I managed to regain my composure, and merely laugh off her comment. Still, inside, I was seething. If only she knew. If only she fucking knew. I caught my tongue between my teeth and bit down, hard. No matter, she didn’t know, and that I had to keep reminding myself of. She had no idea how shit the relationship was between me and dear ol’ dad, and because of this, I had nothing to accuse her of. Her mention of Romeo being well behaved, on the other hand, made me almost cry with laughter. If only! Absently I allowed Romeo’s lead to slacken, perhaps thinking in the back of my mind how once she caught sight of his inappropriate antics she might change her impression of him being ‘perfect.’ Really, I had no words to say to her right now, but the adrenaline of the fight had me hyped up enough to cause me to open my mouth, possibly risking an uncouth reply.
“You know, I wouldn’t talk about things you know nothing about,” this made me feel slightly hypocritical, since I had just chastised her riding skills without reason, but then again, it had taken her a while to calm her horse. As an afterthought, I added, “and just so you know…” but the words trailed off before I had completed my sentence. It wasn’t worth it, really. Yeah, she’d insulted me in more ways than one, but to start an endless quarrel of nasty remarks was not worth my time, and certainly not how I wanted to start off my weekend. Plus, when I turned around, it seemed that her demeanor had changed quite significantly as well, for although her back was turned to me, her temper did not exude nastiness. I watched her like a hawk, watched the way she untensed, as if all her energy had been pulled from her, leaving an empty, exhausted shell. Sighing, I dragged Romeo to a bank of unfolded bleachers, and sat down, playing with the frayed tip of his lead. My good sense told me to leave, but stubbornly, I stayed put, quietly allowing my heated temper to fizzle into something not quite as dangerous. When I’d seen her first, she’d looked younger than me, which also made me reluctant to start something. I consoled myself that this was the reason I was not currently trying to dismember her with words, but I knew that the fight had left me. I wasn’t the type of girl to go looking for fights to pick, I never was – never had been. Sure, I was perfectly defensive, but rarely an instigator unless the situation called for such a thing. Sighing, I glanced around the room with brevity, not allowing my gaze to linger on one particular aspect for too long. Romeo was becoming antsy, but I kept him withheld. I guess that I would just wait for her to make the next move.
Whenever that happened.
If that ever happened.

[April Conners]

What can I say?

Took back my reins running my fingers along them as I stared down at the familiar mane. I could hear my horse chew at his bit as he poked his nose in the hair. My rains were like washing lines but I didn’t care. I didn’t feel as though I could really school the horse any longer, I really wanted to retreat to the barn or just crawl away in a hole and die. But I was trapped, not only in this arena but in reality. I started to comb through the geldings mane, pleating it, trying to get lost in what I was doing, ignoring the whole reality of the situation.

I was just waiting, listening out for her footsteps or some sort of bratty comeback. I was so jealous of her, yet I’d hardly even looked at her. I bet she had everything – everything she ever wanted. That horse, a stallion I could tell, I mean, you’ve got to be loaded. He was a nice horse, too. Must be valuable. Has to be. The horse would be a gelding if he wasn’t worth it. It was just that comment she made about my riding, the type you hear all the time from spoilt brat at the pony club who have the most amazing horses and when Oliver was younger they would laugh...

Or maybe it was a snap judgement. Oliver was a pretty good horse and I’m far from loaded. He was an excellent show jumper when he behaved. He could just a house. She seemed to be retreating slowly, taking small soft steps. It didn’t seem like a spoilt bratty storm out tantrum. She stopped in her tracks. I bit my lip, squeezing the reins, waiting from some nasty whip lash comeback. I raised my head, waiting for it, turning slightly to hear it.

“You know, I wouldn’t talk about things you know nothing about,” Was all she seemed to say.

I couldn’t help but tip my head back, opening my mouth for silent laughter. “Oh please?” I whispered to myself. “Who are you kidding?” I felt like asking her if she actually knew what she was saying. Just a minute ago she was throwing comments at me about my riding, yet now she is telling me this? Hypocrite or what? The only think that stopped me from turning Oliver right round and giving her a complete earful was her tone change.

“and just so you know…” She didn’t even finish. She just trailed off. Didn’t bother finishing.

Oliver walked round the corner so I was forced to look at her. I gathered my reins, getting ready to circle, trying to distract myself. I didn’t want to go down that end of the arena. I didn’t want her to shout and scare Oliver again, and for me to come off. Wouldn’t that just make her day? Point proved you can’t train your horse. I glanced over and literally couldn’t believe my eyes. She was sitting in the stands in the end of the arena fiddling with the end of an old lead rope. Just what I would do, I had to note. And the lead rope wasn’t even new, maybe she isn’t who I thought she was. I was watching from a distance, and I don’t know if it was just because I was viewing across the wide arena and couldn’t see here properly but she looked as though she was about to cry.

I tilted my head back, breathing in deeply before giving a long drawn out sigh. Though I was curious. It seemed as though she wanted something so I decided I might as well please her. “What then?” I asked, the blood started to boil inside me thinking about my father. “What possibly could be so bad about your father?”

It came out a little bit meaner than expected but I just couldn’t help it with this subject. As much as I’d convince myself that I’m so over it still winds me up when people complain but daddy this, daddy that. They wouldn’t be saying that if there was no Daddy.

I started to focus on Oliver, telling myself that this is what I came down to do, and that he deserved the attention since he was being such a good boy. I sat up and rode a 20m circle as perfect as I could make it, asking Oliver to go down on the bit and to bend. Ok, ok, I know it probably one of the simplest moves even a beginner a rider could make, but no matter how basic I didn’t want to give this girl the satisfaction of being able to pick out faults. I wanted to show I was worthy of Oliver and that I deserved him.

And I know I was being pathetic but what can you do about it?

Its just not my day!

[Giselle Renard]

I had always been a stubborn girl, but not a girl without worthy motives. If I wanted something, I would do all in my power to possess it. I did grow up with money, instantly giving me the title of some spoiled bitch – alas, this was far from the case. From an early age I’d learned to work for what I wanted. Simply put, I was tired of having everything at the snap of my fingers, that gave nothing importance. I didn’t want to find a new party dress hanging in my closet the day I requested one, I wanted to go out and buy it with my own money. I tired easily of having everything so easy, and although some may have scolded me for it, I felt like I did not belong in the place which I was born into. To me, being patrician was more a chore than anything else. With secret longing I would look to the public-school children. Their simplicity was what I craved more than anything. While they were out socializing voluntarily, I was stuck learning French Literature from a private tutor and having books crammed down my throat. Eventually I was able to convince my family that social isolation and I were not ever going to be friends, and I was happily tossed into the public frenzy. There, among children who did not grow up with professors with four syllable names, I was able to make friends and finally fit in.
I began working as soon as legally possible, and, proudly enough, bought Romeo with my own money. I refused to allow anyone to assist me financially, and although I did have quite a healthy habit of spending, it was all my money. That ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ charm never did fit my bracelet. Truthfully though, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s not like my father would have been negligent with me – hell, he’d give me anything to keep me out of his sight – but I enjoyed working for things. Each purchase I made by my own devices pleased me more than the same thing bought under someone else’s name. Sure, pleasure took longer to achieve, but it was well worth it in the end. Romeo and I probably wouldn’t have such a close relationship if every penny of his glorious hide wasn’t paid off by my own pockets.

I watched with slight horror as the girl led her horse around, turning to face me. I couldn’t help that my gaze rested on her for so long, for I was curious as to who exactly had insulted me. I was not embarrassed to look so blatantly at her, although as she fully turned around it was a tad awkward. Being myself however, I was not easily persuaded to let my eyes drop, and so I sat, watching her from the bleachers. Romeo had since calmed down, and was sniffing the ground, causing his nose to receive a layer of dust. When he raised his head upon my command, I could not help but allow myself a pronounced giggle at the state he was in. For such a majestic animal, he could certainly get himself into pretty comical predicaments. I took his face in my hands, and when he did not protest, kissed him gingerly on the nose. His ears pricked forwards, and he exhaled warmly into my palms, transferring a thin coating of dust to my skin. I giggled softly, and ruffled his forelock with affection. He could be a brat sometimes, but so could I; we were the perfect couple.
So consumed was I with my horse that I hardly heard the girl when she began to speak. Once again, I trained my pupils on her with scrutiny, not quite lowering my guard completely. Her icy tone put me on edge again, and I slightly regretted not saying something harsher when I had the chance. Raising an eyebrow, I tousled Romeo’s golden tendrils and thought of how to respond to what she had said. I felt compelled to blurt out my life story to this girl in order to explain everything to her, but I decided to exhibit restraint. She didn’t deserve to know my memories; I would just tell her the details which proved absolutely necessary.
“My father was never the warm and loving type,” I began, pausing to run my tongue over my teeth. He made my blood curdle, he did. I could almost picture him then, probably in his office nursing a cup of luke-warm coffee. It would be very early in California, but I did not think him a man to sleep. He would be closing some important deal then, most likely involving large sums of money. I doubted that myself or my welfare ever crossed his mind. During my stay at FFA, he’d written me three letters, all brief and cold, just like he was. Two of them were typed, and the one that was handwritten had been scrawled in haste, as if writing to his only offspring was a chore he did not wish to carry out. I’d written only once, hoping that the distance from him would lead him to exhibit warmer feelings towards me. Alas, it did not. In response to my two pages of detailed information, he responded with two sentences.

Sounds great. Everything’s fine here as well.

I doubted he even read what I wrote. Apparently, I was quite disgusting to him.
Although I called him heartless, and dismissed his disapproval of me, deep down I felt that it was my fault. I wasn’t object to loving him – he was the only father I would ever have – but he made it clear that his love for anything had been buried long ago, with my mother. His work was the only thing he would ever show affection for, never another human being, especially not an objectionable girl such as myself. Still, it was my longing for his acceptance which made me so cold for him, a kind of reverse effect, if you will.
Noticing that I had been silent for quite some time, I cleared my throat and continued.
“After my mother,” I paused to inhale, for even now, eight years later, mention of her memory made me want to retreat into myself and weep. I did not finish my sentence. “he made it obvious that the last thing he wanted to deal with was me. I’ve made that my top priority as well. I haven’t taken a penny from the man since I was fifteen.” I rather snappishly snarled the last bit, instantly quelling her hope of ever calling me a rich brat. I may have been born in money, but I currently did not reside in it. “Essentially, I’m an orphan.” I rather good-humoredly expressed the last bit, complete with a careless shrug. In reality though, this made me feel like breaking into uncontrollable sobbing. But that was the thing about years of hardship – it trained one to hide her emotions.
And hide them I did.

[April Conners]

What can I say?

“Orphan!” I almost spat.

I couldn’t help myself. I threw my head back but managed to hold back the laughter. I tended to just laugh when things went wrong these days. I found sitting around crying bitching and moaning never got you anywhere, not matter how easy it is to do, and how hard it is to hold back. In the end if there nothing you can do there’s nothing you can do. I lowered by head, shaking it lowly, grin growing across my face, I looked down at the reins not bothering to make eye contact as I padded down on the reins gently, getting Oliver down onto the bit.

The truth was I really couldn’t believe what she was saying. I could well guess that her mother had died somehow, so there we had something in common. I wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting me to do, though. Just off my horse and beg for forgives, crying I didn’t know? Well, no. That was never going to happen. I wasn’t the most sensitive person in the world however that’s just me. To be honest neither had she been.

I was in such a mix of feeling about what she said. I no longer bothered pitting people. It just makes them wallow even more in their situation. I bit my lip, trying to stick to my new year’s resolution not to speak my mind but what can you do? I could tell she wasn’t going to like what I was going to say, but sometimes things just need to be said, whether it’s for your own benefit.

I turned Oliver into the middle of the school, giving him is head and a break for what little work he had done. I looked up at this girl who had been watching me the whole time, resting my hands on the pommel of the saddle. I pushed up, stretching my arms and just couldn’t help but grin as I started to speak.

“Hunny, that’s life.” I raised my voice, but it was no longer icy and bitter as such but it was hardly a sit down eye to eye girly talk. “Life’s tough.”

I gave Oliver a friendly slap on the neck glancing down at him for a moment as he stretched his neck out, poking his nose in the air – one of his funny habits. He was relaxing now, feeling that I wasn’t so tense. I rubbed my hand along his mane, leaning forward as I got further up, my gaze moving slowly up to the girl.

“You think you’ve got it tough, huh?” I raised an eyebrow, my face softening slightly. “You aint seen tough.”

“Please, take a look around you there are plenty of other people going through ten times worse than you have. And no, I’m not going to throw my life story at you and try to make you feel sorry for me, I couldn’t care less what you think of me.”

I shook my head; my heart rate was going ever so faster as I thought about my father. I tried taking deep breaths feeling the burning in the back on my throat, warning signs that I was going to cry. I swallowed hard, and started fiddling with Oliver mane desperately again. I forced myself to smile, forcing back any tears. It was stupid, pathetic. Crying isn’t going to help. But as I always do I just couldn’t help myself but blurt out my thoughts, my mouth opened and they all roll out. I gripped onto Oliver’s mane as though I was in physical pain.

“And you know, it sickens me to think after whatever you’ve lost that you still take what you have for granted and that...” I cut out. I could tell I was going too far already. “I Don’t even know her!” Thought to myself, biting my lip until I almost drew blood. I suppose I wasn’t in the place to tell her anything, no matter how much I just wanted her to just know and appreciate what’s she got.

“You know, whatever...” I muttered “You obviously don’t care. Nothing that I say will make a difference...” My words always drew out to a whisper, like I was unable to speak, out of sound.

I gathered my reins quickly not giving Oliver much time to gather himself, poor thing. I looked round behind me, squeezing with my legs, slipping my outside leg back as I asked for canter. I squeezed down the reins as he turned just about on a sixpence. But a difference to who? His just plagued my mind. I pushed for a more forward and faster canter, circling 10 meter circles up at the top end of the school, seriously debating whether or not I should just pushed for a gallop and try to get out of the arena as soon as possible.

I felt a little bit stupid, knowing that the girl was probably going to come out with something twice as hurtful. I tried not to bother listening, shutting her out completely, but my eyes seemed to be drawn to her and her horse. “Good boy,” I tried talking to Oliver trying to forget about the situation.

Its just not my day!

[Giselle Renard]

What gall! What fucking gall! All the years I had spent in yoga classes, perfecting my breathing and learning how to meditate were doing nothing to quell my feelings of abhorrence towards the girl. I was not a naturally nasty person, but after her previous comments, I felt about ready to claw her eyes out. Still, I was first and foremost, a lady, however difficult that might be under current terms. Although my fists were clenching and unclenching in anger, my gaze handicapped by the narrow slits I had made my eyelids, I twisted my mouth into a smile as sickly sweet as I could possibly make it. Romeo, oh dear Romeo picked up on my sudden change in emotion, and, much like a mood ring, quickly changed his colors. Suddenly warped in demeanor, he pranced about the ground as though it were made of boiling lava. His nostrils flared, and his skull tossed, threatening to yank the lead out from between my fingers. At this point, I wouldn’t have cared if he ran away – in fact, I would have been quite pleased if he maybe gave this insolent child a little kick on his way out. Even just toying with the notion made me giddy. Slowly, in order not to do something which would land me in jail, I rose from the bench, inhaling deeply. I could not think of enough to say that would express what I was feeling. Instead, I merely opened my mouth, and spat out three words.
“How DARE you.” My tone was calm, unwavering, although I felt every muscle beneath my skin clench in anger. I hoped to fill my mouth with as much venom as possible, for I was quite literally on the point of no return – my hope for keeping my dialogue civil was next to nothing.
“How dare you accuse me of pining for attention, when it was you who asked me about my predicament in the first place. I didn’t tell you what I did for your attention – I could want nothing less. I’m not going to sit here and play, ‘who’s in the worst situation with you,’ so don’t even begin to chastise me for what I’ve said. You asked, I replied. Do you see me crying? Do you see me at your knees, begging for me to pity you? No. Know why? Because I don’t. want. Your. Sympathy!” Romeo by this point was becoming extremely hotheaded, and was dancing about as if he were in a circus. I decided that I would simply lunge him, for she had taken much too long to reply. Besides, now I was in no mood to humor her good graces. Still seething, I walked to the opposite end of the ring, head held high. As an afterthought, I turned around mid-way and smiled.
“And don’t call me ‘hunny,’ babe.”
With that, I left the conversation verbally, but mentally I was still very much there – and still quite cross. I still could not believe her for offending me so. I had offered up a personal part of me, and she begins to criticize after blatantly asking for it! Had not she said, ‘What possibly could be so bad about your father?’ Did not I answer her? And then she turns around and accuses me of sobbing at her feet, requesting her pity. Puh-lease. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I was some weakling who couldn’t deal with her family life. As if she knew the half of it! So yeah, maybe a lot of people’s fathers were jerks, and I wasn’t the only one to have lost a mother, but besides that, she must have assumed that my life was peachy. Money makes people happy. Well, then I must be no exception.
Anger seeped through my pores as I attached the lunge line to Romeo’s head. I was gentle with him, but sterner than ever, making it clear that he would get away with very little. He seemed to pick up on that, for his manner, although wild, was responsive to my commands. I led him in a circle, spurring him on with the lengthy dressage whip I had brought along. Fitfully I searched to calm myself. I breathed deeply, but still the memory of her calling me out rose like a phoenix from the ashes, and I had to restrain from dropping everything and slapping her. Relax, please. It’s – she’s not worth getting so worked up for. Have a nice little training session with Romeo, and put it all behind you. But I couldn’t, that was the thing. I was touchy when it came to my family matters, though I rarely showed it. When I exposed myself, the last thing I expected was to be mocked for my tragedy. I consoled myself by silently picking her apart.
Obviously she’s extremely immature. She’s the one seeking attention through her antics, not me. She’s placing the blame on me, but she’s the one who’s prying for me to ask her what’s so bad about her life in comparison to mine. Stupid girl, stupid games. I peeked over my shoulder.
I mean, look at her, trying to distract herself. She wants my attention, but she’s not going to get it. She’s the weak one in this situation, not me. I mean, what is she, twelve? She’s pretty much just born! I laughed to myself then, imagining her head placed comically on the oversized body of a baby. I felt a little calmer now, and Romeo picked up on that by increasing his mischievousness. Wheeling him around the ring relaxed me even further, and soon enough I was questioning whether the debacle had even happened. Only the other equine’s hoof beats alerted me to the fact that I was not alone.
Damn it.
I know I could leave, but the thought of surrendering to her made me feel ill. I'd stand my ground.
I was stubborn like that.

[April Conners]

What can I say?

Oliver shied at the girls words, and I must admit it they did the same to me. I felt as though every hair on my body was standing on end. I felt tense, god it reminded me of so much. I felt unable to breathe again, forcing myself to sit deep into the saddle and stop Oliver from taking off again. “Easy boy.” I soothed out load, almost cutting her off half way through what she was saying. “Steady now.”

He was responding to my voice well, but was just as tense as I was. He was feeling the heat of his too. I felt so sorry for him there; he was really like a sponge just absorbing everything the girl was saying. Of course he didn’t know what it meant, but getting shouted at always really upset him. I used one of my hands to scratch his withers as some sort of comfort I used to do while at shows or in stressful situations. It didn’t seem to be making much of a difference; he was still jogging and tossing his head slightly. I knew he wanted out of here as well. I felt the urge to lean onto his neck and say “Oh, don’t listen to her baby; don’t listen to the nasty lady.” Almost like on the movies and cartoon. Oh yes, that wouldn’t a laugh, wouldn’t it now?

I started to pay more attention to this girl words, and the more I did the more I seemed to allow those words to just roll of me. Why was I getting so worked up for her? Nothing this girl could say could hurt me. She didn’t know me. I had nothing to hide from her. She might as well take shots all she wants.

Even though she was much older than me I felt like the older one. The only things that she had said were to save her own skin. I couldn’t help but smile, leaning onto Oliver neck again and rubbed his neck, telling him that it was ok. “Don’t be upset, baby.” I mumbled to him, out of ear shot.

“And don’t call me ‘hunny,’ babe.” She ended her hour long speech.

Seriously, I wanted to give her a round of applause for that one. Wow. In fact, I wasn’t in the friendliest mood so I decided to humour myself, see what else she could come up with. I was starting to rather enjoy this little schooling session. However, when I looked round I found she decided to do something useful for once rather than sit around shouting at me and freaking out her own horse.

I allowed my reins to go as long as they could and dropped my stirrups. I leaned back in the saddle and started to laugh, slow clapping. My legs started to push up Oliver’s shoulders as I tipped back.
“Wow.” I said, sitting up and looking serious now. I turned Oliver with my legs so we would face her. “That was impressive. A good one. Wow, they should give you a Grammy for that.”

I could see her opening her mouth, looking as though she was a volcano on the brink of explosion. I help my finger up to stop her, so I could carry on with my fun. “No really,” I said, shaking my head. “Honestly I am stunned. What and amazing performance, wasn’t this fun now?”

I then quickly swung my leg over the pommel of the saddle and allowed myself to slip down to the ground. As I hit the ground I bowed to her, bringing my right hand to my stomach and the other behind me. I stood up slowly and respectfully. “Really now,” I said, tilting my head to the side, smiling at her. “We really shoulddo this again sometime!”

I strolled forward confidently smiling and giving her and her horse plenty of space. “Come on now, Oliver.” Oliver was already following me happily as he tended to do. It wasn’t really that big a trick, as long as he knew and liked someone he could easily do it with you as long as you worked with him. “Let’s give them their arena.”

I walked to the with Oliver behind me, lowing his head to my lower back as he stayed with me. I stopped, making Oliver almost walk into me creating such a traffic jam. He brought his head up with discontent, wondering what that was for. He looked at me, puzzled as I pirouetted round to the pair in the middle of the arena, pausing for effect. “It was nice meeting you and your lovely horse, Hunny.” Just to finish things off I curtsied before spinning around and strolling out of the arena, leaving all abuse that she may have been shouting back at me behind. Oliver walked happily at my side, probably looking forward to having a feed and seeing all his mates.

“Oh Ollie!” I turned to him and grabbed his neck, giving him a big hug as I buried my face in his mane. “What a morning!”

Yes, it was immature, yes it was pathetic, but oh! It was so, so worth it!

Its just not my day!