A "Tradegy

A Story by Autumn Takatch

A little short story of a real event that occurred to me months ago. A rather unfortunate one at that.

A “Tragedy”

By: Autumn Takatch

“Get out! I Can’t deal with your crap anymore, ” my mother screeched in a most disturbing manner, with her eyes bulging out of her skull and spit flying in torrents towards my face.

Gross, I thought while inching away to avoid slimy drops from splattering across my mug. I already looked bedraggled enough, so why make it worse?

Her face turned bright red, like a vine ripe tomato from Kroger, as she seethed, ranted, and threw things like quite the barbarian.

I hated tomatoes. Tomatoes, to me, were nothing more than an abomination that needed to be destroyed, so I stood there, recalcitrant, completely repulsed by her face. In that case it was the last thing I was allowed to ponder before she kicked me out of the house and told me to go live with my grandmother. Looking back it still wasn’t in the least bit funny. (What, you thought I might have said: “Looking back it was funny”? No, I wouldn’t have, because it sucked.)

By the next morning after that horrific scene, I woke up and had completely forgotten the reason we were even fighting. Yawning in the most unladylike fashion, I sat up and listened to the rhythmic ticking of the clock above the mantle. Tick… Tick… Tick… Thud.

That thud was me falling off the bed, hitting the yellow stained wall to my right. Looking up at the little clock above me, I saw that it was perched on the mahogany painted mantel pretty precariously. Deciding to ignore the fact, that if it fell, it would shatter, I climbed back on the bed, grunting.

Then, as if a speeding train hit me right in the stomach, I jumped to my feet in a most dramatic manner, yelling:

“It’s saturday!”

Then I stopped suddenly, turned around and choked out:

“Gross.”

I said that because I felt cheated by the fact that I would be stuck here doing nothing on my precious, once a week, coveted Saturday.

Not only this, but the night before my mother turned off my phone and left me to fend for myself, which wasn’t cool because it was my lifeline in case something happened, (which, of course, something did happen, or else I wouldn’t be talking your ear off with lame tales of my “so-called” childhood). That was when I remembered that she also took my gaming devices, so in retaliation, I muttered under my breath, “Insolent cog.”

To my “great” fortune, in that next instant, an idea popped into my otherwise empty brain. (You see, I’m rather prone to capricious behavior at times.) So what was that idea you may ask? That’s an easy answer. It was something impulsive and extemporaneous… And guaranteed to be hazardous to my health.

It was actually that same day, that my fate must have decided that I needed an oh, so, “tragic” ending, for what happened next, I never could’ve seen coming in all of my eighteen years.

Before that incident occurred, I found myself trudging along the sodden earth, making deep imprints in the short cropped grass. The path I chose led to the barn. That barn in name, as I mentioned, in all its magnificent glory, stood out like a sore thumb on the property, with a sagging hole filled roof, rotting oak fences, and grime covered walls.

“Beautiful,” I breathed out the moment I saw it in irritation, somehow in that moment also managing to catch a whiff of a noisome aroma that left me bent over, reeling and about to lose what little contents that remained in the stomach.

“Gross,” I said through clenched teeth.

Gaining my bearings, I looked up to find my two horses staring at me inquisitively through the fence. One was graced with a creamy flowing mane and golden coat while the other was nothing short of a nag. Sure, she might of been pretty in her prime, with the brown and white coat covered in spots, but the blocky head and sway backed body just wasn’t doing it for me. Even though I looked at her with disdain I loved horses, for they were my passion and joy.

I always loved to see them. A simple bad choice led me to ride that day. Riding made me feel free and lifted my battered spirit. So, what did I do? I threw caution to the wind, grabbed my helmet and leapt onto the gold gelding’s back from the gate. After that I opened the gate, bending over carefully to unlatch it. Then, turning the gelding to the right, I let the nag out of the gate and followed, nudging the sides of my horse with my heels.

You see, my flaw when it comes to riding, is that I’m not exactly smart or safe. Like, the fact that I was barefoot, bareback, and riding with another horse free around me. That never phased me, although it was considered quite dangerous.

Grasping the gelding’s mane, I guided him towards the open cornfield to the right of the barn. Then, breaking into a gallop, I entered from the side and began my journey.

I was kind of shaky from the start so I probably shouldn’t have been riding, but it was already too late. Everything started out okay and I was riding free, until all of a sudden, the nag in front of me kicked out her hind legs. There was a crack, or maybe not. I just remember getting hit in the middle of my right leg then falling to the ground from a full gallop.

Laying there on the cold, muddy ground, I came to the realization that my leg was broken. I’d never broken anything before, but somehow I knew. I went to reach for my phone because I was in the middle of nowhere laying on the ground, bleeding because I had a gaping hole in my leg, but realized there was no way of calling anyone.

“Thanks mom you're the best!” I groaned by way of retribution. Then writhed in pain, trying to scream but couldn't, for the pain was so intense. Crying my eyes out and grasping the squishy mud all around me, I called and called helplessly, drowning in my own tears. The warm and salty taste of my tears mixed with snot as they found their way into my mouth, with a little mud to top it off.

Was I found, you ask? Did I live? I’ll let you answer that one.